February 3, 2021
When your dog hears a mew
And she takes off with you
That’s a workout
When a scent’s on the wind
And your dog plunges in
That’s a workout
Another dog in her view
Marks the boundary with poo
That’s a workout
When a stranger walks by
Dog gets murder in her eyes
That’s a workout
February 2, 2021
The cyclops had grown its hair long, long, impossibly long, braided into a thick rope that it had wound around itself as both garment and rope, thick chestnut framing its one great watery blue eye.
“There’s no way the Sage of Spolcyc can help me if this is all he is,” said Ponomnocit. “You can’t even tell how far away something it.”
“It does not matter how far away it is,” the cyclops said in a serene voice. “If it is coming, it will come. If it is not, it will remain.”
“Then tell me what I can do to change the future,” Ponomnocit said, “if you’re the one cyclops that’s also a philosopher, that should be easy, yeah?”
“You are changing the future now,” came the reply. “Every action you take ripples into the future in ways that even the wisest cannot see.”
February 1, 2021
John Mody bought the simple bollock dagger from a high street merchant not long after his first payday as a town guard. He took great pride wearing it openly around town, even when off-duty, seeing himself as the sort to draw steel for righteousness even though the worst foes he’d ever faced had been ragged deserters and half-starved brigands.
Though the bollock dagger got its nickname from the handle appearing rather like a very familiar part of male anatomy, John always thought that the hilt looked more like a woman with a widow’s peak, her hair piled high on her head to form the handle. Once he’d had it for a year, he paid a friend of his who’d once apprenticed as a metalsmith to etch a lady’s face on either side, one smiling and one frowning.
Well-pleased by the look, John Mody took to calling his sidearm Mary O’Red or Dag Mary, and after spending his pay at the common house he would more often than not have her out for carving meat, cutting bread, or idle tavern games and boasts. If John couldn’t recall which way he’d put Dag Mary in her scabbard, he’d draw her as a simple scrying tool: the face that showed (which he touched up once a year or as needed) would be his fortune for the night. Despite her given name, Mary O’Red was stained more from wine and rare meat than blood, and her owner’s great feats were knife-throwing contests rather than chivalric battles.
On his last night on this earth, John Mody was roused by the town’s hue and cry to repel an attack. He never learned who the attackers were, nor would he have much cared about the kingly matters that brought civil conflict to his shire. But when the town guard had formed up and been shattered by a light cavalry charge, John was left with nothing but Mary when his spear, which had no particular name, was shattered under charging hooves. With chaos around him, John used his only skill, and the only possession he really gave a toss about, to defend his home. When he drew her, he was comforted to see that she was smiling side up.
Mary sailed true, lodging in the exposed neck of one of the riders. He would die in the saddle, and his death broke the attack, as the nominal commander of the marauding force was little more than a figurehead. John Mody was laid low during the retreat, trampled like so many others, and died during the night. But the town was saved, if its guard was somewhat decimated in the saving.
And Mary O’Red, otherwise known as Dag Mary? She rode away with the dead lieutenant, and was pulled from his body the next day. The cavalryman who did the deed wiped the clotted blood away, smirked at the face he saw–angry, frowning–before dropping her on the pile of damaged weapons that were for the crucible, to be melted down and recast.
January 31, 2021
Successful Applicants Will:
-Have and enthusiastic and high energy at all times
-Keep the entertainment level high
-Wave at cars and pedestrians passing by outside of the establishment
-Preserve the secret identity of the mascot, without which it has no power
–NEVER deviate from the mascot’s established mannerisms, thoughts, philosophy, and soul
-Administer a stable of 5-7 other costumed mascots
-Coordinate costume maintenance and signage on a daily basis for said stable
-Help clean soiled costumes (vacuum, wipe down, re-sew, etc.)
-Track down costumes and mascots that have gone “on walkabout”
–NEVER cross 24th St or Avenue E in costume or allow others to do so
-If necessary, ensure others in costumed mascot stable do not cross 24th St or Avenue E
No experience needed.
Must be at least 16 with high school work permit.
To apply, present proof of social security card and ID to Nephi Insurance Agency Inc.
January 30, 2021
“The system is very sensitive,” said Shril. “You must know the sound of each letter in the English alphabet.”
“I do,” replied Arkis. “What d’you think I’m flapping my lips with right now?”
“No, no,” Shril said. “The sound of each letter in the English alphabet as it was. It’s expecting the English of people who’ve been dead centuries.”
Arkis looked over at Birc, who was standing in front of the machine, speaking:
“D00d, h0w d0 j00 0p3n teh dor, bruh?” Birc intoned, reverently.
“Such a beautiful old tongue,” Shril said. “More like singing than anything.”
January 29, 2021
“Joseph and Jasmine Tomme,” Hannah said, lighting a cigarette. “Heard of them?”
“They’re related to the Tommes from New York, right? The ones in the tabloids?”
“Second cousins once removed. The side of the family that cares more about money than fame,” said Hannah. “Lots of cash, lots of influence, but they’re pretty sheltered. Babes in the wood, really, aside from the one thing we’re hiring you for.”
“Babysitting?”
“Murder.” A long drag from the cigarette. “They like to kill people. It’s like a game to them. It’s our job to keep them from doing it without cramping their style. That’s the brief from the New York Tommes, and it’s why the pay is five times scale.”
January 28, 2021
January 27, 2021
Thank you for ordering online with MetroMart! Please confirm the following substitutions:
2x Frozen Eggo™ Waffles: Out of stock
Substitution: 1 box MetroSmart™ pancake mix, dried
5x Stouffer™ Mac and Cheese: Out of stock
Substitution: 1x box MetroSmart™ Cheese Noodles & Sauce
1x DiGiorno™ Pepperoni Pizza: Out of stock
Substitution: 1x Subway™ Pizza Sub™ left behind by an inattentive customer
1x Totino™ Pizza Rolls: Out of stock
Substitution: 1x leftover calzone from Mario’s from the MetroMart Associate Break Room refrigerator
2x Ore-Ida™ Frozen French Fries: Out of stock
Substitution: 5x russet potatoes with extra eyes, 1x MetroMart Essentials™ potato peeler
1x Double Stuf Oreo™ Cookies: Out of stock
Substitution: 1x Larry Cohen’s Infinite Stuff™ Cookies
1x Lay’s™ Classic Potato Chips: Out of stock
Substitution: 5x packets, MetroSmart™ Mashed Potato Mix (just add water!)
10x Campbell™ Tomato Soup: Out of stock
Substitution: 1x bottle MetroSmart™ Ketchup, 1x bottle distilled water
1x pint Ben & Jerry™ Cookie Batter ice cream: Out of stock
Substitution: 1x pint MetroSmart™ Biscuit Batter Core ice cream
horrible substitutions a la Kroger
January 26, 2021
“I mean, Gnashing Peaks? Mountains of Wailing? What sort of superstitious nonsense is that?” Ryk said. “If you’re trying to frighten me, there are better ways of doing it.”
“Frighten you?” Kuni scoffed. “Those named have been earned, lowlander. It’s a thousand leagues or more to the next pass in these hills, and sometimes being able to struggle a few wagons of food through after a bad harvest is what makes the difference for those of us who live here.”
“So they gnash and wail at you? Typical of you yokels up here, ascribing a malevolent will to whatever you can’t understand,” said Ryk.
“The gnashing and wailing is ours, lowlander, when our children and elders die because a caravan was snowed in at the pass.” Kuni pointed at the serpentine road winding its way up between the Gnashing Peaks, splitting the Mountains of Wailing in twain. “If you want to march up there, be my guest. But the only way you’ll see your lowlands again is from the hereafter.”
January 25, 2021
“What happened?”
The corporal shook his head, his pupils dilated. “He just…walked up to us. And one by one, I saw the guys fall over as he came near. I thought they were dead, so when he came to me, my gun was up.”
Not a hint of concern flittered across Revatī’s face. “That didn’t work,” she said.
“No. I couldn’t pull the trigger. He reached out, touched me, and then I was down.”
“Did it hurt?” Cosgrove said.
“No, not at all. It was…it was like lying in warm sunshine. I felt like I was back in Paris–my honeymoon–asleep in the summer sun. Everything was warm and golden and I couldn’t…I couldn’t have been happier.” The corporal choked back a sob. “It’s…it’s been almost two years, since she died, and this…I just couldn’t…”
“Uh-huh.” Revatī turned away. “As we thought.”
“Another detail you neglected to mention?” Cosgrove said. “I don’t remember anything about a euphoria of golden memories in your report.”
“I imagine it’s different for every one of them,” Revatī said. “And I imagine most of them would do anything to return to that state of bliss. We should go. If he comes back and asks them to kill us, I have no doubt every last one of them would pull the trigger.”
Excerpts From Nonexistent Books 