This is a flash story I wrote as an exercise earlier this year. It's a piece that I had a lot of fun writing. There's no sex, just a lot of blood and guts all wrapped up in time travel. Many thanks to Nora for her editing skills
In the privacy of an interview room, the host of a syndicated televison show is asked to appraise some things, a woman brings in, which are a little out of the realm of this appraiser's expertise. The story is written in dialogue form and it should be simple enough to follow. Your feedback regarding my story: "When the Men Come Over" was most appreciated. I invite your e-mail feedback on this one as well.
Pussy Boxwilder, the stage name for Helen Snodgrass, always wanted to be a TV star in Hornywood. This is the story of how she managed that and her triumphs after reaching her goal. Readers should note that this is a satire and should not be taken literally. Or should it!?!
Drawn home by Lavender Town's anual Halloween festivities, Miranda, Misty and their pokemone find themselves standing alone against the vengeful fury of an evil older than the Tower itself...
Harriet is a well brought up girl, studying for her 'A'-Levels at Kunt College, London. But she has to choose a fetish for her Further Fucking syllabus, and is somewhat undecided. What will she choose, and where will it take her?
Jack and I had gotten away with the perfect murder, so why did I feel so shitty? And, as Jack had said, "The bitch deserved it!" She did, if anyone did, so why did I feel so shitty? The police were at a complete dead end, no closer now to solving it than they were last week. So why did I feel so shitty? I just did is all.
The luscious, highly oversexed Malomar Twine. My Malomar Twine. Our Malomar Twine. That Malomar Twine! Maybe that's why I feel so shitty . . .