BY MONIQUE QUINTANA
Saturday Night by Meg Nicol / Flickr
Here’s the problem -- everyone calls them her puta boots because they’re so slick and shiny. It’s not cliché, not with her. It’s not that shit she watched on TV, that movie they show sometimes on Saturday afternoons where a streetwalker ends up meeting a man and getting to Rodeo Drive. It’s not even like that, and she leans against the wall like she’s the most brilliant mannequin. If she could count the stars she would, but they’re not even there. Still, there’s all kind of lights on Blackstone. She’s short, and her boots fit her like snakes are eating up her legs, and they buckle and pinch, and they gnaw at her kneecaps.
No, wait. She’s not really on Blackstone or G Street. She’s just walking down the halls of her elementary school. Crystal’s in kindergarten. The first time she saw the boots in the store window, she fell in love with them. Her mom bought her the boots because at that moment in time, she thought that they were rain boots, or at the very least, would pass for rain boots.
BY JENNIFER HERALD
I am Hngry by duncan c / Flickr
I have caught every single red light from Cold Spring to Cincinnati and this one, at the corner of East Liberty and Broadway, coming off the exit is no different. Another red light. Seriously. I’m not running late but it still perturbs me. I’m sipping my caramel mocha and enjoying a sausage biscuit when he catches my eye. Guiltily, I put the food down in my lap.
He stands here every day or at least every day for the last two years. When I worked at the children’s hospital up the road a bit, he was there and if he wasn’t, I wondered where he went, if he was okay. Now I only come over to teach or attend class so I don’t see him as often. He is tall and lanky, he is of medium build, neither fat nor thin. He has a long face with perpetual grey stubble and a baseball cap is always perched on his head. Today, he has a gauze pad duct taped to his leg and there is blood seeping through. It couldn’t be good to have duct tape holding gauze in place or for a wound that is clearly pretty severe to be outside all day. But, he seems as pleasant and kind as ever, offering me a nod and a wave which I return.
BY DAVID HENSON
Slow Critters by Rachel Stelmach / Flickr
"Computer, dictation mode: It all started when one of our bees buzzed too close to one of our dogs. The dog snapped at the bee, which then stung the dog's nose. It couldn't have hurt the dog because of our safety protocols. But it apparently scared him because he started howling and barking."
Fudgeknuckle, don't begin so abruptly. Give some background.
I thought we agreed I'd do this report, Shockrocket.
Yes, but at least explain what CritterLand is. For the record.
If it makes you happy. "Computer, insert at beginning: CritterLand is a new amusement, which I'm in charge of, at Teleportation World."
BY ARSHIA EGHBALI
All God's Children by Phil Warren / Flickr
"Dinosaurs... Religion... And now Humanity! What's wrong with you God?" Rob burst as he threw the bunch of reports to the corner of his large desk and looked at God from above his glasses.
God nervously ran a hand through his long beard. He never quite understood why every manager in Heaven Corporation had to grow a beard 7 inches long. "Come on. It's not all that bad." he objected. He had decided to play it cool. Whatever happened, he had been working there for such a long time, and everybody would agree that he was a pretty creative fella. “Look at all those nonsense projects by everybody else. Jupiter, for example, or Torcularis Septentrionalis – how is it even spelled, for Heaven’s sake?!”
“How many times did I tell you that Mr. Heaven doesn’t like that silly expression that’s running among the people in the office?” Rob rolled his eyes. “Listen God, I know we’re friends but this is serious. The numbers from Humanity are awful! We have to shut it down any time soon – it’s only a matter of centuries… Oh God! Are you listening?!”