Thursday Thong & Six Word Winners

Top two Thongs (20 words each)

In the Mirror

by Matt Cummings

After the laughing gas, before passing out, he must have told the dentist he’d like the gold teeth after all.

Matt Cummings lives and writes in Oakland, California, where he is virtually unemployable due to an irrational fear of computers. He has received a B.A. in English Literature from Somewhere Someplace and achieved nothing else of note other than becoming The Most Cynical Man on Earth. He hopes to one day be recognized for this feat yet holds little hope for his chances...

Therapy’s Over

by KJ Hannah Greenberg

“My therapy’s over; summer vacation,” he reached for the watermelon.

“Never discussed and never condoned,” she reached for the knife.

This year, KJ Hannah Greenberg’s lightly pert and somewhat exuberant writing has been published or accepted for publication by: 365 Tomorrows, AlienSkin Magazine, AntipodeanSF, Bards and Sages, Bewildering Stories, Doorknobs and Bodypaint, Fallopian Falafel Zine, Flashshot, G. Stern’s Hag Samaiach Anthology, Hamodia, Joyful!, Ken*Again, Language and Culture Magazine, Literary Mama, Mishpacha’s Family First, Mom Writer’s Literary Magazine, Morpheus Tales, Parenting Express, Poetica Magazine, Poetry Super Highway, Static Movement, Miriam Liebermann’s the Best is Yet to Be, The Blue Jew Yorker, The Clarity of the Night, The Externalist, The Jerusalem Post, The Jewish Woman, The Mother Magazine, The New Vilna Review, Tuesday Shorts, Unfettered Verse, and Word Catalyst. When not writing, Hannah tends to her imaginary hedgehogs and to her not-so-small children. She does takes away their marshmallow fluff, though, if they fail to clean their rooms.

And our 6 word G-String Winner is....

Post Scriptum

by Tom Lassiter

PS The lovemaking was creepy, too.

Tom Lassiter lives in South Florida. His work has appeared in Tropic magazine and at Verbsap.com.

Earlimart's Campaign to Stop the Sadness

By Daniel Casebeer
100 words

He writes her for years before receiving a reply. Then, all at once, a bundle of letters arrives on his doorstep. There is a pink one that smells like bananas, a yellow one that smells like oranges, and a beige one with scalloped edges that doesn't smell like anything. At the bottom of the bunch, sealed with a glob of black wax, is an envelope small enough to fit in his pocket. One by one, he opens the envelopes and spreads their contents on table. Then, wedging a pipe beneath his moustache, he pretends not to recognize his own handwriting.



Daniel Casebeer lives in Pittsburgh. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Gloom Cupboard, Lexicon, and Ophelia Street.

Misunderstandings

By Jonathan Pinnock
100 words


On our first date, she said she was an animal lover, which sounded promising until I realised that “animal” was not an adjective. However, at least I now knew how to win her heart.

So I bought a small white mouse for her, called Benji. After a week with him, I became quite attached and I felt unbearably sad at the prospect of giving him away.

On our second date, I presented the gift to her as she opened the door to her flat. She hesitated briefly. Then, smiling, she took Benji from me and fed him to her python.




Jonathan Pinnock was born in Bedfordshire, England, and - despite having so far visited over forty other countries - has failed to relocate any further away than the next-door county of Hertfordshire. He is married with two children and a 1961 Ami Continental jukebox. His work has won several prizes, shortlistings and longlistings, and he has been published in such diverse publications as Smokebox, Every Day Fiction and Necrotic Tissue.

With a Titanium Smile

By Mercedes M. Yardley
61 words


Tell me, he said, why it is that when the wind blows, your hair doesn’t. You stand straight and still like a butcher knife; I’m afraid that if I touch you, you’ll draw blood. Yellow and Orange leaves swirl around you and then clang against your skin before falling to the ground. But whenever we’re alone…

Shut up, baby, she said.



Mercedes M. Yardley specializes in beautiful tragedy. She has been published in The Vestal Review, Six Sentences, Reflection's Edge, and Kill Poet. You can learn more about her at www.abrokenlaptop.wordpress.com

Marlins

By Cody Johnston
100 words

I can remember one day going fishing for marlin off the Gulf of Mexico with God. We took his boat. We were drinking ambrosia before five but we were on vacation so it was okay. I remember our conversation perfectly.

I asked “Do the marlins feel pain or fear?”

He replied “Of course. All my children do.”

I; “You consider them your children?”

He; “Yes. You are all my children, and I love you all as such.”

I: “But we’re going to hook them. Skin them. Eat them.”

He:”Yes, as with you all. Finish your ambrosia, child.”

So I did.




Cody Johnston is a dandelion seed wafting ever so gently in the wind.

Twelve to Eternity

By Melissa Palladino
61 words

The bullet rests lightly in his pocket. She leans into him, licks his bottom lip. The radio bleats, his thigh brushes the steering wheel, a knife edge of sun slices them into bright and shadow.

A younger girl would fabricate a vision of white lace, herself an enchanting bride. This older girl knows better. She pushes on him. Squeezes the bullet.




Melissa Palladino studies karate but her true ambition is to be a jello wrestler because then she can kick ass AND wear a cool costume.

Like Braveheart

By Robert Aquino Dollesin
100 Words

If I had on a yellow dress I’d get myself up off this filthy, gum-stained floor and race past the lockers. At the end of the corridor I’d whirl around and scream out their names. Gus and Kip and Justin and all the others. Once they turned I’d raise the finger. Then I’d spin around, bend over and lift the back of my dress just like those Scottish warriors in Braveheart. Everyone watching would laugh, making those boys feel very small. But then if I was wearing a dress, it would lend truth to their insensitive taunts -- wouldn‘t it?



Robert Aquino Dollesin lives in Sacramento, where now and then he manages to pen out short stories. He sometimes blogs here: http://robertaquinodollesin.blogspot.com

Farm Wars

By Nathan Key
96 words

Ever since Mr. Brown’s prized milk cow, Bernice, jumped over the moon there was an all out war for his attention. The chickens were determined to peck out the world’s largest hole, the pigs planned world domination, and the horses soon embarked on expedition to the bottom of the sea.

Mr. Brown put an end to the whole affair when the old goat broke his neck in a skydiving accident. With tears in his eyes, the farmer buried Fredrick’s body beside a physics lab that the mice had been constructing and considered the matter settled.



Nathan is a writer/philosopher who lives in Seattle, WA with his family. He primarily writes screenplays and magazine articles, but you can find some additional writings at his website: www.nathankey.com

The Watchmaker's Lover

By Roseanne Griffeth
50 words

They met through his hobby, an obsession with clockwork, tiny screwdrivers and timepieces. She brought him her father's gold watch for repair. In his attic, he showed her his treasures and more. Her infidelity was visiting another watchmaker then lying. He issued an ultimatum. Her gears were his. She disagreed.


Rosanne Griffeth's work can be seen in Keyhole Magazine, Smokelong Quarterly, The Angler, Writer's Eye Magazine and Six Little Things among other places. She lives on the verge of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park with her herd of goats and spends most of her time writing about and documenting Appalachian culture. She is the blogger behind The Smokey Mountain Breakdown. www.smokeymountainbreakdown.blogspot.com

The Man Whose Home is a Bench

By Eva Eliav
100 words

I know a man whose home is a city bench. I don’t know by what roundabout road of life he ended at that place, but he is established there, his scanty belongings heaped neatly beside him.

What brings a man to settle on a bench? I try to solve the mystery of a life, exposed, yet completely hidden. If I were to give him a questionnaire, "bench" would be the answer to every question: address, family, occupation, hobbies.

Perhaps he fell out of a myth, and created another one. Within it, he is held, contained and nourished. Within the bench.



Eva Eliav grew up in Toronto , Canada and has been living in Israel since 1970. Her poems and short fiction have been published in a number of literary magazines, including Room of One’s Own, Natural Bridge , Parchment, Quality Women’s Fiction, Voices Israel , and ARC Israel . Her other interests include painting, films, and finding the perfect frappuccino. Eva Eliav is married and has a daughter.