Friday, May 8, 2015

Mainstream Geek

Image by Ron Riccio via Wikimedia Commons


A red-faced girl of no more than four stared at Melvin. In her hand, chocolate ice cream flowed from her cone over her fingers, dripping onto her dad’s Jedi robes. Dad, oblivious to his mounting dry-cleaning bill, held his daughter in one arm and held out his phone with the other, recording the spectacle of Darth Vader and his stormtroopers gyrating to Michael Jackson’s Beat It. Melvin stumbled, and stutter-stepped back into position, knowing that the mistake would not go unnoticed. The girl fixed her gaze on him and pointed. A bead of sweat rolled into his eyes as he spun around, and Mevlin wished for the thousandth time the park would have provided ventilated suits to offset the hot Florida sun. He finished his dance with a heel-stomp a half beat behind the others; the music ended and applause began. Dad put the little girl down and fiddled with his phone. She waved at him, then extended her arm palm out and spread her fingers so that they formed a V between the middle and ring fingers: the Vulcan salute.

Melvin wished, also for the thousandth time, that the park would have provided working blasters. Tourist scum.

Friday, March 6, 2015

Spring Break

This month, Bettyann and I are taking a break from writing new material. While we're on vacation, we will be posting favorites from the past that until now were only available through our books on Amazon.  This week, a story from Colleen Sutherland that first appeared in the journal Rosebud.

As always, we like to hear from our readers, so please let us know what stories you'd like to see more of, either here on the blog or at our Facebook page.

-Wade

continue on to:  A Candle in the Window

Friday, February 27, 2015

The Birds Are Disappearing - Conclusion

By Bettyann Moore

In retrospect, I shouldn’t have taken that last shot at Larry. Things would have turned out very differently, at least for some.

Mrs. Oddstetter was pleased to see me, though she still wanted an audience with her great-nephew. She forgot all that, though, once I told her about the holograms and the birds’ refusal to migrate.

“I knew it!” she said. “I just knew there was something rotten going on, thanks to my good-for-nothing great-nephew and those of his ilk.” She gave me a nasty look, then picked up an old-fashioned rotary phone. I watched, fascinated, as she dialed. It seemed to take forever just to make one call, especially when she messed up and had to start all over again. She waved me away when I held out my cell phone to her. I wandered around the grand living room, admiring the antiques and paintings; the lady was loaded.

Saturday, February 21, 2015

The Birds Are Disappearing - Part II

By Bettyann Moore

There’s little reason to go into how I managed to get access to Larry and to the place he works, a place that most people don’t even realize exists. Most couldn’t fathom the work he does there anyway. Suffice it to say that this town runs on favors and I called a few in.

Larry’s room was two doors down from mine at the frat house. He was brilliant and the go-to man for any math or science questions. We weren’t close, but I happened to be in the wrong place at the right time one frigid December night and kept him out of big, big trouble. Like most people with a debt to pay, Larry began avoiding me, moved out of the frat house and changed schools. I never saw him again. I kept track of him, though.