Eating Van Gogh by Mark Simon Burk

A reprint of one of my favourite stories, in which Mark Simon Burk’s character chows down on a post-Impressionist masterpiece.

I ate a Van Gogh. Not a major one. And not all of it. But I did manage to tear off an entrée size piece and chew it until the bitter oils burned metallic hot in the back of my throat.

I would have swallowed it too, had it not been for a disconcerted museum guard who pried…

Life with Angie by DC Diamondopolous

Misfit Ronnie struggles to care for her mentally ill little sister, while channelling her daily tragedies into her stand-up comedy; by DC Diamondopolous. 

My sister Angie gives me outrageous material for my standup comedy. She's a bona fide nut case, a paranoid schizophrenic, bipolar, manic depressive - you name it - Angie fits every disorder that isn't wired to reality.

The voices inside…

One Step Forward... by James Rumpel

Abel's destiny is as a scientist, trying to extend the life of mankind during a terminal ice age; by James Rumpel.

"Ignore the bullies." That was the advice Abel Fairweather's mother always gave him.

"Well, it is awfully difficult to ignore someone while they are sitting on your chest," thought Abel. What he said was, "Get off of me, Borg. I didn't do anything …
Friday, July 23, 2021

Lost Alohas by Gary Ives

A career Navy sailor falls in love with a Micronesian island, and a Peace Corps woman living there; by Gary Ives.

In the spring of 1967, I was Chief Engineman aboard the destroyer escort USS Tinker. From Pearl Harbor we were to begin a Westpac cruise, normally six months of exercises and patrols around Japan, Taiwan, Guam, and the Philippines. On this cruise however, we were tasked with a couple o…

Quarantine by Mary Sylvia Winter

At the height of the Covid pandemic in 2020, extrovert Brit Nell is forced into a stifling quarantine when she travels to her family's old cabin in Ontario; by Mary Sylvia Winter.

There is silence, and then there is silence.

Some people are born to be silent, thought Nell crossly. Not me. Definitely not me. Some no doubt acquire silence. Hermits. Writers, maybe. Again, not me.

And some have si…