Beginner's Dismemberment Guide
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by Charlie Rogers (994 Words) When I respond to the help-wanted ad for “Serial Killer’s Assistant,” I’m surprised to get a near-instantaneous invitation for an interview. My mental image of the person who placed the ad had vacillated between two vivid possibilities: tall and gaunt like a human scarecrow, or a sweaty, slovenly blob.
Instead, I discover he’s neither. He’s so nondescript that I forget his face the moment he turns. He invites me into his house where the decor is reminiscent of an old lady’s: hand-painted porcelain frog figurines crowd every surface; a stale scent of rose perfume floats above us. I’ve told my mother where I’ll be and assured her I’ll call the moment I’m done. It’s our standard procedure for my interviews, so she shouldn’t worry. If I can’t secure a well-paying job soon I’ll go crazy squatting in her garage. My stint as a Mortuary Disc Jockey didn’t pan out and I’ve been hustling for new employment ever since. |
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I wasn’t convinced it was going to happen when Mrs. Milton warned me over the phone last week. "I just want to let you know, there is a possibility that Samson could die while we’re gone,” she’d said. “The vet says it’s bound to happen within the next couple of months. We don’t anticipate it happening while we’re gone, but just in case, we don’t want you to be surprised.”
Dr. and Mrs. Milton are in Paris for two weeks, and they asked if I could stay with their dog while they’re away. I’ve stayed with Samson plenty of times before. He’s a rather large dog, although I’ve never been certain what kind. I’ve asked before to be nice, but not being at all familiar with dog breeds, the names just sound like diseases to me, let alone give any indication of what that particular one would look like. Just slap the word terrier after a nationality and I wouldn’t know the difference between that and a sock puppet with whiskers sewn on. |
by Antonia Costa (2046 Words)
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Inheritance
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by Chrissie Rohrman (331 Words) It looks roomy enough inside the freezer chest, but even after putting my weight against the lid, it still won’t close completely. I squint down through the vapor at my mother’s wrinkled face.
Even dead, she looks disappointed in me. With a sigh, I haul her limp body back out of the freezer. For such a small woman, she was heavier than I expected. It seems poetic, considering the weight of disapproval I’ve felt my entire life. “You’re out, James,” she’d sneered at me from across the polished marble countertop. “I’m seeing my lawyer tomorrow. The house, the cars and jewelry—it’s going to your brother. All of it.” |
Doggerel [ daw-ger-uhl ] adj. 1. (of verse) comic or burlesque, and usually loose or irregular in measure. 2. rude; crude; poor. |
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one tiny elephant
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