Author: Fiction Phrog

by: Angela Berryman

After she finished with feeding the last of the animals in the barn, Katie headed toward the main house to get the girls ready for their ballet class.  Katie is a stay at home mom, with more chores than your typical housewife. On top of keeping the home clean, caring for her two children she shares with her husband, she also runs their mini-farm. With all her daily chores she also has an ungrateful husband that treats her horribly. She grew up on a farm so she didn’t look at that as the hard work, dealing with her husband Joe is the hardest job to her.

If you were to ask any of Katie’s friends and family, they will tell you that she has a heart of gold, she never gets mad or angry, never yells and will do anything for anyone even without being asked. But her husband tells her the exact opposite making her feel less than nothing. Anytime she gets a chance alone she cries to get some of her frustration out and   almost every night she cries herself to sleep.  Joe never notices though. If he does he doesn’t say anything, not like he cares. She makes sure on a daily basis she tries to keep it together for her children.

Joe is not a typical guy that will have a bad day then will take it out on his wife when he gets home. He calls her mean horrible names on a daily basis, he never shows her any affection, much less tell her that he loves her. Katie knows he doesn’t love her. Why else would he feel the need to cheat on her all the time? He loves having his “women on the side” and he even calls them that right in front of her. He will say things like, “Going out with my girls tonight be back later.” She knows he isn’t just talking about regular girl friends.

After finally reaching the back door she sighed, wiped her feet and tried to think about her girls so that she wouldn’t be so down in front of them. When she walked in the back door she saw Meadow sitting at the kitchen table doing her homework. She walked over to the kitchen sink and washed her hands and asked her, “You about done with your homework Sweetie?”

“I have one more problem,” she told her mom without looking up from her paper.

“Look! I’m a buttafly!” Laura her three year old cried hopping into the kitchen in her tutu.

“Ahh, honey! Look at you! You are a beautiful butterfly. But baby butterflies have wings so that they can fly not hop.” Katie told her as she pulled her into her lap to brush her hair.

Her smiled faded and whispered, “That’s why I hop, because I don’t got the wings.”

Just as Laura finished her sentence, Joe swung the kitchen door open and screams, “What the fuck is your problem?”

“Honey, please not in front of the girls,” Katie pleaded with him as Laura jumped out of her lap and ran out of the kitchen. Katie squeezed Meadow’s hand and quickly told her, “Don’t worry about that now. We’ll finish that in the morning before I take you to school. Go get ready for

“Hey bitch, I am talking to you, what the fuck is your problem?”  He screamed at her again.

“I don’t know what you mean honey. What’s the matter?” she almost couldn’t hear herself talk she wasn’t even sure if he even heard her. She cleared her throat to say it again, “I don’t-”

“I heard what you said you stupid bitch! Where the fuck is my dinner at? I have somewhere I have to be tonight!” He screamed cutting her off.

“Please don’t yell, you are scaring the girls,” she pleaded with him.

“Don’t tell me what to do and answer me already.”

“Joe it’s Tuesday night, I take the girls to ballet class and you know I don’t have the time to cook dinner until I get home. I’m going to take the girls to Wendy’s and get some dinner. If you want I can bring you something home, or you can have something while you are out if you can.” Katie spoke quietly.

“Sure whatever, you are worthless and so are your two brats of children that you have.”

Katie felt her face get hot and grow red. It was a different kind of feeling than she was used to. This time it wasn’t from being embarrassed or being shy. She felt anger growing inside of her. Joe knows as well as she does, that both of those wonderful girls belonged to the both of them.

“How could you say such horrible things about the girls? You know just as well as I do that those beautiful children are yours as well as mine!” she screams at the top of her lungs, grabs her purse and runs out the front door.

The girls were standing at the SUV waiting patiently for her, “Are you girls ready?” she asked them, helping them into the SUV. When she got behind the wheel she sat and thought a minute, how could he say such a horrible thing?

As she drove the girls to their class after getting their dinner, she sat and thought to herself all the horrible things Joe does and says to her. She actually yelled at him! She has never yelled at anyone her whole life.

“Will you please stop screaming at the top of your lungs girls?” Katie asked when they were almost to their class. Even though Katie was still upset with what just happened with Joe she still never gets upset with the girls, no matter how much they carry on.  She can’t stand the fact that they always witness his temper.

“Sorry mom,” Laura apologized.

“Yeah mom we are sorry,” Meadow said. Then Meadow turns to her sister and whispered, “We don’t want to make mom angry with us.”

Even though she thought she was whispering Katie heard her daughter’s sarcastic remark. She could feel her face turn a little red. Even her daughters knew they could get away with anything and that they couldn’t make her mad enough to really get upset.

“Here we are girls,” Katie said giving Meadow a kiss before she hopped out of the SUV.

“Okay Mom,” Laura exclaimed happily, giving her mom a kiss.

“See you at eight Mom,” Meadow said while helping Laura out of her seat.

“Bye girls, have fun and I love you too.” Katie drove away after watching the girls bound up the stairs and into the studio. She loves it when they have their ballet lessons. It is the only chance Katie has to be alone. She always tells Joe that she stays and watches the girls practice, but she never does. She uses this time to be alone and to think, something she so desperately needs.

To kill the time, she sometimes goes to the mall to shop, just walk around, or go to the movies. Her favorite place to go though is the dock. After the way Joe had been to her earlier tonight she felt the dock is where she wanted to be. She loves going to the dock to watch the water, waves, and night boats that floated by. It was such a peaceful way for her to spend her nights alone. When she pulled up to the empty dock, she felt a sense of disappointment. She kind of hoped to see someone there, so that maybe she could be the one to have an affair. Give Joe a taste of his own medicine. I’m so tired of him treating me this way. If it wasn’t for the girls I would have thrown him out on his ass long ago. But would they even miss him? What’s the matter with you of course they would miss them, he’s their father.

Just then she saw a car with no lights pull up.  “Great,” she said aloud, “someone is here to join me after all.” The car stopped and parked right next to a boat that was off to the side.  When the person climbed out of the car, it appeared to be a man. Maybe I can go try and strike up a conversation. Just as she was going to get out of the SUV to see if she could get a closer look at the guy, she noticed that the man was pulling something out of the trunk of his car. She leaned on her steering wheel so that she could see as far as she could. She couldn’t believe it, is that a body he is carrying? She couldn’t be sure and she knew she couldn’t leave without being seen; or him getting her plates and possibly come and find her and the girls. So she sat and watched the man in black pull the body out of the trunk. After he struggled with the body, he finally got it out on the pavement he closed the trunk and dragged the body to the boat sitting at the edge of the dock. When he got to the boat he slung the body over his shoulder and threw it on the boat. He then climbed in the boat himself and started the engine up.

Am I really seeing this? Just as soon as he appeared he was gone in the night with his boat. She quickly drove off and pulled into an empty parking lot to think about what she just saw. How could someone do something so horrible? Could that man really have killed someone and was just going to simply dump them into the ocean like garbage? That’s a horrible thing for someone to do. I can’t believe I just left like that I should have called the cops or something. “Why though?” she thought out loud. It had nothing to do with her why should she get herself into a situation that she’d have no control over? After sitting for a few minutes, she had a crazy idea.  What if I could get away with something as crazy as that? Kill someone and just dump them off into the ocean? What’s wrong with me, how could I think of something so horrible?

After sitting and thinking for quite some time she realized that it was time for her to go pick up the girls. She started the SUV and drove back to the studio, finding the girls waiting outside. When she pulled up they ran out to the SUV, and helped them climb in. “So how did it go girls?”

“It was super fun mom, the best time I have had yet,” Meadow exclaimed. “Laura was having a little trouble tonight though.”

“Oh Laura, honey, you will get the hang of it soon enough,” she told Laura as they started driving home.  When she pulled in the driveway she saw Joe’s car and a car that was unfamiliar to her. He better not have brought some hussy home like he did the last time, she angrily thought to herself. He just recently started bringing them home, and she couldn’t believe that he may have done it this time knowing when the girls get home. She could actually feel a sense of anger growing inside her. She is started to feel sick and tired of the way Joe treats her. If that is a woman in my house…

“Girls we’re here. It looks like your dad has a friend over, so let’s go through the back door so we don’t interrupt them.” She said interrupting her own thoughts. She directed the girls as she pushed her keyless entry button to turn on the alarm.

“Okay mommy,” Laura said happily. If there is a girl in there she didn’t want the girls to see that, she also didn’t want them to see the anger she felt growing inside of her. They have never seen Katie get angry or yell, and she didn’t know how they would react to that.

When she opened the side door to the kitchen nobody was sitting at the table, and Katie felt a sigh of relief when she saw the kitchen was empty. “Go on girls let’s go up stairs and put on your jammies.” She followed the girls up the stairs to get them ready for bed. She did not want them to see or witness anything that could ruin them. Knowing that Joe had a woman with him more than likely she knew the girls would be confused. After getting them in their jammies and tucked them in bed she gave them both a kiss on their forehead and told them goodnight.

After getting the girls into bed, Katie stood at the top of the stairs and listened. “It’s okay baby, she doesn’t care, she is upstairs with her bratty children putting them to bed,” she heard Joe say to someone. At that point she knew it was a woman in the house after all. She could fell the anger growing inside of her again. How could he say I am the one that has been with other people to say that about our children? Now he has the nerve to bring some hussy into my house and treat her so sweetly when he can’t do that once with me or the girls?

Katie felt she had enough, twelve years of Joe’s horrible actions and attitude towards her, she just couldn’t take it anymore. She crept into the kitchen so that Joe and his hussy wouldn’t hear her. She then stood over the knife block that held her biggest knives. I can’t take this anymore; I will just get rid of his ass the same way that man I saw do tonight, what a perfect idea. She pulled out the meat cleaver and stared at it for a minute. Expect I won’t need to take them to the pier I will just feed them to my hungry little animals outside. She couldn’t believe where her thoughts were coming from, but she no longer cared anymore. She ran into the living room with the cleaver raised in her hand and screams, “You no good son of a bitch!” landing the cleaver down on his spine, and striking four more times until he lay dead and bleeding on the tile floor. The woman that was sitting next to him was in horror her mouth wide open, as she brought down the cleaver on the woman’s head, and she too lay bleeding on the tile floor.

Katie stood in horror at the two dead bodies lying on her living room floor. She had to act quickly before the girls came down and saw what had happened. Katie knew she couldn’t carry the bodies out to the barn to feed her pigs unless she made them into smaller pieces. She then started chopping at the arms and legs of both of the bodies, then putting them into a wheel barrel she put up against the house earlier in the day.

After walking out into the barn, she called to them, “Come on pigs, I brought you an excellent snack, I hope you enjoy.” She said as she dumped the remains into the pig pen, watching them furiously eating away at the remains. Tired and exhausted Katie went upstairs to get herself cleaned off so that she could get ready for bed.

####

The next morning Katie went downstairs to make some coffee, she felt a sense of relief over her. Joe was no longer there to yell, scream or put her down and she couldn’t be happier. But what would she tell the girls? Just as she thought what to tell them they came running down the stairs.

As they sat down to eat their breakfast she said to them, “Girls I have to tell you something very important. Your dad is no longer living with us. Last night he decided he couldn’t take living with us anymore. I am sorry, but we will be just fine.”

“Really?” Meadow asked very excited, “I am so glad to hear that. Daddy was so mean I know I won’t miss him.”

“Me too I am glad he is gone,” Laura said.

That was all Katie needed to hear, that they wouldn’t miss him after all. She then went to the stove to start cooking the girls some bacon and eggs for their breakfast.

 

By: Michael Rodgers

Livingstone Dempsey hooked his finger and pulled lightly on the side of her G-string. He slid the twenty-dollar bill between the elastic and her bare flesh, held his hand against her thigh too long, and let the elastic snap back, trapping the bill against her soft mocha skin. “Be a dear and fetch me another double Chivas, would you Tiffany?”

“You sure you need another one Mr. Dempsey? I’m Amber, remember?”

“Yes! Amber. You’ll have to excuse me, Miss Amber. You remind me of Tiffany who worked over at the Palace before it burned down. Give me a little time and I’ll have all you girls straightened out, then maybe a couple of you darlings will return the favor, if you catch my drift.”

Amber rolled her eyes as she walked away, “One double, coming right up, Mr. Dempsey.”

Dempsey was enjoying his new wealth, though he never noticed that he piqued most women with his arrogance and crude mannerisms. He saw women as objects for his entertainment and gratification and little else. Any other value they contributed to his life would have to be measured in misery and betrayal. The notion never occurred to him that he might be the problem in his relationships. He would never admit it, but it was the reason he spent most of his spare time in strip clubs. Women were easier to relate to if you paid them first.

He had managed to marry once. It was a turbulent affair that he referred to as the lost eight years. An unfortunate by-product of those years was a daughter he hadn’t seen since she was fourteen. Dempsey assumed his ex-wife, Sheila, finally got tired of fighting him for child support or maybe she found another man’s life to ruin. Whatever the issue, she disappeared along with their daughter ten years earlier.

There was a time he felt he loved Sheila, but never gave two shits about her, why can’t you stay home at nights and help with the baby, attitude. He couldn’t figure why she turned into such a bitch. She could choke on a pretzel or get tossed off a high building for all he cared now, so long as she stayed away from his bank account. She reminded him of his ungrateful ex-best-friend Steve, who he fired a few weeks earlier. Still, he did wonder about his daughter from time to time…like now. It must be the Chivas talking, he mused. He struggled to recall her name. Kaitlan, is that it? He thought it was. Naturally, he blamed the breakup, and the modicum of guilt he felt for not staying in touch with his only child on Sheila. After all, she’s the one who disappeared. None of it mattered now. Kaitlan will be fine, he rationalized, after all, she’s a Dempsey.

 

***

That is not to say Dempsey didn’t have it good. He did. He had been fortunate most of his life and had been the benefactor of a lot of help along the way. Those who helped would rarely suffer receiving any credit though, and more often got a proverbial kick in the crotch for their deeds. In his world of self importance, Dempsey considered himself a dominant force in a world of peons and underlings, felt entitled to live for his own pleasures and believed others should fend for themselves. A perfect collation of this attitude would be the way he treated his only friend, Steven Merritt, aka Little Stevie.

Although some distance had grown between them as adults, they had been thick as thieves in their early days and when they were old enough to go to work, they both got hired on at his father’s company, Dempsey Iron. It was a small, but respectable business that built a variety of steel products, but most of the business focus was on building trash dumpsters. Stoner was also an only child. Years earlier, his mother left for parts unknown with some hillbilly guitar player and Dempsey never forgave her the transgression. When his dad died of a heart attack at sixty-three, Stoner was left to handle the reigns of the company. At forty-one years old, he had spent little effort learning either the business or the manufacturing end of things. While Stoner spent most of his nights drinking and his mornings coming in late, Little Stevie Merritt spent his evenings going to school to study business and engineering. Stevie offered Stoner advice on occasion, but was just as often harshly dismissed, “This is my fucking business now, and I’ll run it the way I see fit.”

And run it he did, right into the ground. When the company’s accountant suggested selling the business as the only means of avoiding bankruptcy, Dempsey finally turned to Little Stevie for help. “I thought you’d never ask,” Stevie said, “I’ve been thinking about this place for a long time and I have some ideas I’d like to run by you.”

What Stevie managed to do with the business in five short years was nothing short of miraculous. He negotiated extensions with creditors, laid-off most of the office staff and crew and cut salaries with the promise of hiring everyone back when the business got reorganized. When they did start hiring again, everyone was hired at a lower salary with a profit sharing incentive, which pissed Stoner off to no end. Stevie explained that it would buy the company the time it needed to get back on its feet and that people would work harder, steal less and come in on time if they felt they had a stake in the game. Stoner hated the idea, “They should do whatever I tell them to as long as their paycheck clears every Friday.”

“Yeah, maybe they should, but how has that been working out for you lately?”

Who does this sawed-off little shit think he’s talking to? Helping others always felt like rolling naked in raw fiberglass to Dempsey. Knowing he had no choice only made the irritant more irritating.

The reorganization managed to save the business, along with a revolutionary new dumpster designed by Stevie. Ever reluctant to change, Stevie was surprised when Stoner readily agreed to a new company name that was voted on by the profit sharing workers. Dempsey Dumpsters had a friendly, pleasing ring to it. Soon the company was selling the new dumpsters to nearly every waste management company in the tri-state area. They could barely keep up with the demand. When an engineering firm had to be hired to double the size of the small factory, Dempsey’s accountant sat down with him and explained that he needed to start finding some tax shelters for the company profits. “Exactly why would I need to do a thing like that?” he asked.

“Well, I’ve been examining the books and the projected long term company growth. As near as I can estimate, you are going to become a millionaire by the end of next year and millionaires need tax shelters.”

The following week, Stevie received the accountant’s official projections and approached Dempsey with a proposition that would finally allow him to start reaping some reward for his effort. He laid out a reasonable and workable plan that garnered him a fair, yet considerable increase in salary and a small percentage of the business. Dempsey rewarded Little Stevie Merritt by firing him on the spot. “I’ve just about had it up to here with you and your ungrateful attitude. You’ve been trying to steal this company from me for the last five years and I’m sick of it. This is my fucking company, remember? Look, I don’t need your services anymore. You’ve got two hours to clear your office and get off the fucking property or I’ll call the cops and have you thrown off. Now, get moving and don’t look back.”

“Steal the company? What are you talking about, Stoner? I’ve been underpaid since your dad died and I’ve poured my life into this place. What else do you suppose I’ll do for a living? The economy is crap right now and I‘ve got a wife and two kids to feed, for crissakes.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s a tough one for you, but you’ve got talent. You’ll find something. I hear City Waste is looking for drivers. Do what ever you want to do. I really don’t give a shit. All I know is your career at Dempsey Dumpsters is over. Now, get out!”

***

Dempsey drained the last of his fifth double, got to his feet with a slight wobble and headed for the restroom. On the way by the bar he motioned to Amber, “Hey, Tiffany. One more double and I’m out of here.”

“It’s Amber.”

“Whatever. One more double, then you can cut me off.”

He found and empty stall and pulled the vile from his jacket pocket. He never bothered with those tiny spoons anymore and tapped out a small pile on the back of his hand between his thumb and index finger. This oughta take the edge off the Chivas, he thought as he raised his hand to his face and snorted the white powder.

As Stoner worked his way back to his table, the DJ was introducing the next dancer, “So let’s hear it for the newest member of The Sticky Nipple’s erotic dance team. Come on all you manly whore-dogs, give it up forrr Jaaaasssmiiinnne!”

Dempsey eyed the stage as the lithesome young blonde gyrated and dipped around the dance pole. Damn what a body, he thought; she looks just like Sheila in her younger days. He was just making it back to his table when Amber showed up with his drink. “Are you sure you’re gonna be all right, Mr. Dempsey?”

“I’ll be fine, Darling, don’t you worry about old Stoner. I just had a little pick-me-up, if you catch my drift. Here’s a twenty for the Chivas and another twenty for you if you can get a message to that smoking little number on stage and tell her Mr. Dempsey might need a private dance when she’s done with her set. I’ll tell you what; I’ll give you another twenty if you can set me up in one of the private booths and send her over when she’s done.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Dempsey.”

Jasmine busied herself with tying the sash on the feather-trimmed robe that barely covered her thong panties as she approached Dempsey’s booth. She opened the curtain, entered and booth and pulled the curtain closed behind her, “You say you were interested in a table dance, Mister?” she cooed.

“I’m interested in whatever it is you’re sending out tonight, Baby. Why don’t you have a seat right here next to Mr. Dempsey, and we’ll talk about it?”

For the first time, Jasmine looked at Dempsey and froze as she recognized the name, then the face. She felt repulsed and nauseous, then quickly regained her composure, “It’s one hundred for two songs, Mr. Dempsey. Paid in advance.”

“A hundred bucks? The other girls only charge fifty.”

“I’m not one of the other girls, Mr. Dempsey.”

Kid Rock’s Cowboy, started playing in the background as Jasmine started rolling her hips from side to side.

“That you are not. You’re a real show stopper.”

“The music’s playing and you’re burning our time, Mr. Dempsey. Dance or no dance?”

Dempsey groped every inch of the stunning young woman with his eyes and weighed the possibilities. “Here’s a hundred.”

Jasmine did not disappoint as she gyred, slithered and slinked around the tight cubicle in ways that would make a dead man hard. She was down to her G-string by the time the second song was through the first verse. Dempsey pawed at her the whole time like a puppy with a new squeak-toy.

Jasmine warned him for the fourth time, “Look, the rules say no touching the girls. One more time and I’ll buzz the bouncer.”

“I’ll make it simple for you, Sweetie. I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you go home with me and let me treat you like a rag-doll,” Dempsey countered as he reached for the small gap between Jasmine’s legs.

Things happened quickly after that as Jasmine hit the buzzer, yanked the curtain open and began to shake, “I don’t think that’s going to happen, asshole.”

“Aw, what do you mean? You look just like my ex and I thought we could get together and pretend we were–”

Jasmine grabbed what was left of the double-shot of Chivas Regal and tossed the contents square in Dempsey’s face. His eyes burned as he tried to rub the toxic liquid from his eyes. “What the fuck is your problem, bitch?”

“You don’t recognize me, do you? I’m your daughter, Kaitlan. Remember having a daughter?”

“Yeah…huh? But, I thought your name is Jasmine?”

“ Jasmine is just a stage name, you idiot. I swear I wish Mom were alive to hear this one. She wouldn’t fucking believe it.”

“Sheila’s dead? How–”

“She died from breast cancer almost nine years ago. Nice of you to be concerned. Didn’t you find it strange when the subpoenas quit coming? My God, you’re dense. I’ve been on my own ever since and had to make some hard choices, no thanks to you. You couldn’t be bothered with family issues, remember?”

She turned to walk away. Dempsey stood and grabbed her arm, “Kaitlan, wait–” he never saw the bouncer approaching as he snatched Dempsey’s hand from Kaitlan’s arm. The man was built like a rodeo bull and twice as hairy.

“Nobody touches the girls, Sir. Club policy. Is this guy bothering you, Kait?”

“Bothering me?” There was fire in her eyes, “Only since I was born. He’s my father. The heartless prick doesn’t even recognize his own daughter. Can you believe that shit? Throw the son-of-a-bitch out in the alley. He’s not good enough to be tossed out the front door.”

Dempsey felt a sharp pain as his left shoulder met the corner of the dumpster. “And don’t come back,” the bouncer said as he slammed the back door of The Sticky Nipple.

Dempsey shouted at the closed door, “See you tomorrow, then. Send my love to Jasmine and the girls for me…and don’t forget to write, you steroid shooting freak.”

Dempsey started to get up, then thought better of it and crawled over and sat, shaking against the wall in the dimly lit alley. He was sure his shoulder was dislocated.  Just look at yourself, Dempsey. What a frigging mess you are. You look like you could use another bump, then we’ll call it a night. This has been too weird even for me. He dug into his pocket and found the vile, then realized he couldn’t move his left arm to help with the cap. Grabbing the cap with his teeth, he twisted the vile with his good hand until the cap separated. He spit the lid across the pavement. I won’t be needing that any more.

He held the vile up to the alley light, almost empty. He rolled the vile in his fingers like a prospector might hold a nugget to the sun, and then threw the vile across the alley where it crashed against the dumpster with Dempsey splashed across the side. Hmph. One of mine. Don’t that just figure. His thoughts swirled as he struggled to make sense of his life. Sheila, the business, Kaitlan, strippers, his father, his love for Chivas Regal, his mother, his stupidity, cocaine, how he managed to plunger his life down the crapper along with all those he was supposed to care about. He sat there for what seemed like an hour, shoulder and soul equally aching and hoping time would offer relief, but relief would not come. He descried his life as a calamity of self-indulgent errors. For the first time in years, Livingstone Dempsey hung his head, broke down and heaved the sobs of a broken man.

***

He didn’t know how long he’d been out, his face sticky with the remnants of emotions both foreign and new to him. He wiped his face with the jacket sleeve of his good arm, his left arm still immobile and throbbing with every heartbeat, yet somehow he felt better than he had in years. It was still dark as he managed to get to his feet. This could take some getting used to, this caring about others, he thought.

Dempsey rarely gave religion a second thought, but he looked skyward and spoke aloud, “If you’re up there, I swear to you as my witness, I’ll find a way to make it up to Kaitlan and everybody else I’ve screwed along the way. I don’t want people remembering me as a heartless prick.” He turned toward the end of the alley and walked slowly as the pulse in his shoulder began to wane and his tight muscles loosened. He noticed the traffic picking up as he made his way down the adjoining street. Early commuters were sleepily making their way to work. Must be getting close to daybreak. I’m going to need to get this shoulder looked at. Maybe I should call the office and leave a message that I won’t be in today.

He fumbled inside his jacket for his iPhone. Still feeling fuzzy, Dempsey began dialing and never notice the curb as he stepped off, tripped and fell into the street. The brakes on the City Waste truck locked up hard, but it was too late to help Dempsey. Inside the cab, the driver reached frantically for the two-way radio, “Dispatch call 911, and hurry! Holy Mother of Christ on a cracker, this is Little Stevie in truck two-forty-three. I just ran over some drunk. He just fell right in front of me and I think he’s still under the truck.”

By Leeland Hindman

Archer Page

Number- Unknown

Address- Unknown

Dear Mr. Man Behind the Curtain

I would like to offer my services to solve the most peculiar problem you seem to have. There is no need to be ashamed of what you want accomplished for it is a natural fact of life, some people just need to die. That is why you need the best, and as you will see from my experience that I am the man for the job; for I can accomplish any job even if the target is not of this world, although I charge extra for that.

 I know that over the years this great field of study that I have dedicated my life to has become diluted and contaminated with such second rate lackeys. These people, who only do the job for money, have no passion, and always seem to make a mistake. I, on the other hand, do this job for pure enjoyment and pleasure, but do not believe that I work for free.

I hope that you make the right choice in your selection, remember that just like wine there is the cheap shit that only fat chicks and white trash seems to enjoy, and there is the 30 year aged 57% Merlot/ 43% Ice Wine. I’m sure you can figure out which category I place myself in.

Experience:

Ah, where to start in my vast history?

I suppose one of the best places to start would be in Texas during 1963. I’m sure that you have heard of what took place that year. A certain leader of the free world had set his eye on the Federal Reserve, and my clients could not allow their precious hold on the U.S. to falter. So I was sent, and, as you can see, I accomplished the job.  A fall man was also placed without my knowledge and I sometimes wonder what would happen if he would have survived, perhaps they would have lost their banks anyway.

 The next best place to start would be May 13 1981: I was contacted by a few men who wished to send their message to the leader of the church. They did not like his free thinking and encouragement of the church and science relationship. They wanted their presence known, but they did not want him dead. So I provided a unique job for the circumstance which went favorably well.

 I suppose the next logical step is August 31 1997. I was contacted by a man inside the royal family who wished for his earlier love to disappear. I was happy to accommodate by cutting the brake lines ever so slightly so that they would go out just as they reached the tunnel, and might I say, it worked well.

Now that you read over this impressive resumé you must be wondering how to reach me. Well simply look inside of yourself, to the deepest darkest part, which you hide to world and only show to the darkness. All you need to do is let me out and I’ll take care of the rest, for a minor fee of course.

By Justin Oberg

It had been almost five days now. Barreling, headlong, through the fabric of space-time, the rattling of the steel and brass death machine I had built annoyed the Hell out of me. I knew that I could not go back and save her. I knew that it would cause a paradox and I would be doomed to go back and watch her die in one of a million different ways each time. So, in my haste and without thought I build this fabulous machine, a wonderment of all technology and science, I thrust myself into the future to look for any other way of saving her. I shook off the memory of my folly. The light blue grey ball that was the Sun as it sped through the sky of night and day, and repeated the process in less time than it took for me to blink, was causing me to become extremely nauseated.  I looked away sharply and found myself staring at the broken brass lever that, at one point had propelled me into this Purgatory I was in now, sat still on the seat next to me, a testament to my unwavering love and commitment to her. As I stared at the brass I laughed at the absurdity of it all. I laughed for what seemed like minutes, but was likely weeks in the world around me. I watched the Sun begin to glow red hot and felt my head become light, I knew it was time; this long without any food or water was too much on my now frail body.  I rested my head next to the brass lever on the old brown leather seat, and allowed the darkness to overcome me.