Fireball

CONTEST SUBMISSION

I asked my telepathic cat Fireball, the cat formerly known as Kitzhaber, “Do cats have a theology?”

“Some, but not all cats, believe that we were created by a divine lion-like creature, which then made the other animals to entertain us. We expect that on the day we expire we'll be transported to a cat heaven where there are nothing but cats, rodents, and worshiping humans. The rodents will give us sport but always get caught and eaten. The humans will pet and play with us until we tire of them, then they will disappear until we need them again."

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley

The author, formerly known as Dough or Douglouse used to make numbers as an actuary, now among other things, strings words together.

Work Of The Unemployed

I recently lost my job. With nothing much to do, I sneaked the other week into an exhibition at the Galerie der Moderne. The walls were hung with paintings by people who didn’t seem to know how to paint. However, I did enjoy the complimentary wine and the cubes of cheese on frilly toothpicks. I would have stayed longer, only there were these police around. In the old country, my great-grandfather went to fetch a ration of bread, and the loaf was sticking out of his coat when the SS officer who shot him for sport rolled his corpse over.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author of Famous Long Ago, a forthcoming prose poetry collection from Laughing Ronin Press.

The Poet's Life

I sat on the large stone in the middle of the picnic field. I had my notebook out and was busy scribbling away. There were couples and families and dogs and blankets. There was food and sport and laughter and a few tears. The more life unfurled around me, the faster my pencil lurched across the page.

This is the life of the poet. A life of watching. You might call me a mirror, or a tape recorder. I am an instrument.

But life is lived whether we laugh and love our way to death or record others doing it.