by Ari Collins
"Did mommy and daddy tell you that bullshit?" I asked. He kept sobbing. "Well, they're lying. Of course there's monsters." He cried harder. "But! See, here's the thing. Monsters don't wait 'till you've watched their movies. Did they eat you last night? No? Then they won't eat you tonight. Okay?"
He nodded, eyelids beginning to droop.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Monsterlogic
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Five Minus Five
by Robert Gryfft
John sat, grinning.
Dave just raised his eyebrows.
John said, “I asked her out.”
“High five! Where are you two going?”
John leaned back, squinting thoughtfully. “Gonna study for our math test. Maybe get
some coffee.”
Dave frowned. “Dude. High five rescinded.” He stood. “Math test,” he muttered, shaking his head as he walked away.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Show Your Work
by Robert Gryfft
“Seven times seven is thirty-six.”
“No, it’s not.” She sighed in frustration.
“It is, mommy!” His eyes sparkled. “Look, I’ll show you!”
She glanced up and for a split-second saw the space between his fingers glimmer and turn.
“But--” was all she had time to say as everything slid through itself.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Gut
by Ari Collins
“Not in public. Honey.”
“But your tummy’s so squishy,” she said. “How do you touch anything else?”
He coughed. “Train’s late.”
“It’s important. Like... like... running my hand along the railing back there.”
He looked at his shirt, then grabbed her wrist and turned her dirty palm upwards. “Goddamnit, Hope. This is a formal event.”
Until You Love Me
by Robert Gryfft
"Lady Gaga. Stalking you." She sipped her coffee.
He nodded, wide-eyed. “Her limo drives by! Late at night. She--"
His phone rang. He silenced it.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
He twitched. “Pretty sure it’s Tom Brokaw. He--”
He spun around just in time to see Barack Obama nervously duck behind a menu.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Everyday
by Robert Gryfft
The smell of her hair buoyed his chest as he stretched.
She smiled. “What’ll we do today?”
“We should check--"
There was a dry thud at the window.
He yawned, reaching for the shotgun. “Sounds like they’ve grown back again. Mouths probably have, too.”
Outside, a rattling scream swelled in the morning light.
Shouldergeist
by Ari Collins
“Can this phantom limb third arm thing of yours, like, touch anything?” She sipped our shitty frat house beer.
I shrugged. “Sometimes it feels like it bumps something. If I turn too fast. Mostly it just itches like fucking crazy.”
She furrowed her brow adorably. “Nice meeting you.”
I stammered as she walked away. Something had shaken my “hand.”
Sunday, September 26, 2010
The Soma Truck
by Robert Gryfft
“And how many today, sir?” She batted her lashes at him.
“I dunno. Several.” He swallowed hard, eyes darting up to her and just as quickly away. His forehead shone.
“Five sound good, dear?” She purred.
He accepted with trembling fingers.
She winked and climbed back into the truck. The passing policeman smiled and waved.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
The Time Laser
by Ari Collins
"Know how my machine works? Your brother did... or were you an only child?" Doctor Sepulchre laughed hoarsely.
"Moralman will save m--" Outergirl began as the Time Laser fired. Who'd she been talking about? By the time the beam faded, she'd never started the sentence.
"Eventually," he whispered, "I'll be the only man you've known."
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Who Laughs Last
by Robert Gryfft
His key wouldn’t fit.
He heard a snap and looked up to see her walking away from the next apartment.
He looked back at his lock. "Fuck did you do?"
Something hit his back. A keyring. Blanks and snapped-off halves.
"Fuck you and everyone you know,"she yelled, and slammed her car door.
Tommy's Dreams and Gina's Six-String
by Ari Collins
She locked eyes with me as she finished belting out "Livin' on a Prayer," handed the microphone to a guy performing "Bitch," and staggered over, collapsing in the arms of... her boyfriend just to my right.
"That one's for you," she slurred, staring intensely into my eyes.
"Ummm," I said, and I meant every word.
Monday, September 20, 2010
In Dolor Veritas
by Robert Gryfft
He tugged at his transfixed wrist, and the scabbed ooze of his flesh twisted darkly against the nail. The smashed bones in his hand twitched as the metal scraped the ends of his severed tendons.
"You win," he rasped.
"Not yet," she said. She draped another fold of soggy newspaper across his wrinkled brow. "Soon, darling."
That's What
by Ari Collins
It's never about control. Here, in this dank basement, I help you tie yourself to your husband's college futon and I watch your eyes. Maybe it's about your eyes. They beg me; Jesus knows exactly what for.
When I want, if I want, your eyes flutter and roll everywhere, then lie still. So temporarily calmed.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Sweet Dreams
by Robert Gryfft
The moment lasted decades, her eyes locked to the animal, his eyes to her.
"Pony," she said, eyes gleaming.
"Yes, little one," the clown said, reaching for her flaxen curls. "Pony."
Her mother turned, shivering suddenly. "Come on, bubbie."
The clown raised his gloved hand slowly.
Mother and daughter fled into the crowd.
He watched.
Friday, September 17, 2010
The David Attenborough Effect
by Ari Collins
I changed channels. "Hey, it's Blue Planet! You blasted this whenever you fucked Kris."
He squirmed on the couch. "We didn't want anyone hearing."
"Real discreet. When we heard Attenborough, we always knew."
He shifted uncomfortably. "Frickin' Pavlov." He stood and walked stiffly to his room.
"Dude!" I yelled. "These fish are like spaceships, dude!"
Sunday, August 1, 2010
ftl ftw
by Robert Gryfft and Ari Collins
Sol's final light glimmered tranquily at him. Shivering, he squinted at the too-bright gauge. Three, four more jumps. Tops.
He wiped frost from the timer with stiff, fumbling fingers. Before the numbers could start another last dance, he took a deep breath and pushed the button.
Nothing happened.
Sol shone just a little brighter.
Theory of Mind
by Ari Collins
Mary opened the Crayola box. "It's cookies!"
Dr. Pulsifer smiled. "But what will mommy think is in there?"
Mary looked confused. "Cookies."
"Let's see! Here comes mommy now. What's in the box, mommy?"
"Cookies," Mrs. Hambry said, then staggered and held her head. "How did I..."
Mary brought the box over. "Eat a cookie, Mommy."
Sunday, April 11, 2010
h/c
By Robert Gryfft
He couldn't find the right balance of blankets all night. He spent too long in the shower adjusting the hot water, and jerked off even though he was late.
He didn't talk to her all day. He made a couple false starts, and she looked at him strangely. Finally he just said, "I love you."
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Let It Ride
Monday, April 5, 2010
Txt
by Tristan Parker
You see that girl sitting on the bus, cellphone out, always texting? She could be any one of millions of teenagers: glued to their phones, constantly connected. And she is. But she isn’t writing about boys, or movies, or school.
She’s writing a novel, 160 characters at a time
And it’s going to be beautiful.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Pet Name
by Ari Collins
"Darling Pie," he began, startling himself.
"Awwwwwwwwww," she said, her voice sinking down, then, at the end, soaring up, covering whole octaves of cute. "What a wonderful pet name!"
She kissed him, and then they kissed, hard, warm, and bubbly.
He'd been ambushed by thought-dead habit. He hadn't meant to call her that name.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Micturation Malarkey and the Minority Party
by Robert Gryfft
"Pee? On everything?" I gaped at him, horrified.
He glared. That glare that said, "Just you wait. You know I'm always right."
"Just you wait," he said. "You know I'm always right."
"But, but Senator-- will that convince the Democrats of anything?"
He harrumphed. "Can't convince a Democrat. That's politics. But it'll be fucking hilarious."
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Scene of the
by Ari Collins
I'm awoken by the smell in my sheets. Or maybe it's your dildo jamming into my back. Or the furry handcuffs tickling my nose, or my sweat-wet pillow. Each time I'm jostled awake by our forensic sexprint, I reremember. And I smile. And I won't clear and clean the bed until you come back.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
He Who Fights With Hipsters Should See to It, Etc.
by Ben Kowalski
Now she’s talking about how Lullaby was Palahniuk’s best novel, which is bullshit. Everyone knows that since Fight Club, he’s been recapitulating the same formula of inundating his readers with increasingly disturbing images. She’s just holding iconoclastic opinions for their own sake.
I light a cigarette, and while she talks, I think about the cigarette.
Playing Video Games Like It's Our Job
by Ben Kowalski
Karen points from the couch. “Grenade Launcher!” I weave through bullets to grab the weapon. “Now plug him!” And plug him I do—a hellstorm of grenades that reduces the giant tank to scrap.
I polish off a glass of wine during the “Mission Complete” screen. Karen refills our glasses; I raise mine.
“To unemployment.”
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Invisible Zombie Lobster Porn
by Ari Collins
"Zombie lobster porn."
She arched an eyebrow.
"First thing that popped into my head."
"That's... worrisome. But perfect. Step Two: post a story about it on your site. BAM. You are now the number one Google result for 'zombie lobster porn.'"
"Nah, 55aday'll be popular on its own merits. Besides, who likes gimmicky stories, anyway?"
Friday, March 26, 2010
Compression Cell
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Lovegirl
by Ari Collins
Itch my knuckle with my teeth.
William stops walking.
I explain. "Itchy!"
He says, "Darling Pie, you can put your groceries down." He puts his own groceries down. "See? I put my own groceries down."
"Sorry." I say, "I'm sorry."
He picks the bags back up. Almost drops the soymilk. "All right." He says, "Okay."
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Heirlorn
Shh
Dealbreaker
Billy Gets in Trouble
By Jackson Ferrell
“Nyaowwwrm,” Billy said, weaving a tiny plane among the empty beer bottles. “Whoosh! Look out, Red 5, it’s a tyrannosaurus!” He reached over, grabbed a plastic dinosaur, and marched it through the makeshift cityscape. “Graur! Stomp!”
A shadow fell over Billy. He looked up to see a policeman standing on the sidewalk, arms crossed, scowling.
It Only Works In Pre-Industrial Fantasy
Not With A Bang But A Whimper
Valentimes Is Serious Times
Mirracle
Writer's Group
by Ari Collins
I introduced myself as “Colin”. Figured it’d be neat, hearing my pen name spoken.
Turns out calling someone’s name feels informal. Almost.... intimate. And nobody knew me yet.
“Colin?” someone said on the way out. It was the blonde with the tiny nose.
Nothing like a pretty woman saying your name.
Wish I’d remembered hers.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Tristitia Militis Immortalis
Final Straw In A Minivan
Bad Posture
by Ari Collins
The spindly green little monster glared, growing to surpass my height as his shoulders broadened to frame a convoluted new musculature. Elongating legs bent awkwardly; a second knee, a third. His head loomed, buttressed by five additional necks. "The other trolls say I shouldn’t slouch. Now what’d you call me? A spindly green little what?"
Hearts Stars Horseshoes
No Phone
by Ari Collins
He stopped walking again.
“Dude,” I said.
“No, it’s definitely vibrating this time.” He fished the phone from his pocket and put it to his ear. “Hey Phil. No, she hasn’t called yet. Hold on, this might be her!”
He shifted the phone to his other hand and checked again if his pocket was vibrating.
Mortality Immortal
My first prayer: please, just another minute, another second. Let there be something more. Don't let it all be for nothing.
We cherish the verse, vital in our hearts, shielded from microbes and radiation by liquid nitrogen and lead.
May She live forever.
Breaking The Flow
by Ari Collins
The first time she invited him up, she demanded he always close all doors behind him. "This building’s flow is bad news.”
"Like, ley lines or feng shui?"
"Sure.”
He liked them cute and quirky.
"I told you," she said one day. "Even closet doors."
“I never use your closets," he sighed. "Besides-" he began.
Meat
by Robert Gryfft
There is a horn near me.
It is loud. I think it is a train's horn.
It is dark here. Sometimes the great white things come, poke me and squeeze me, grunting to each other softly.
I'm not scared anymore, not since they took my legs. I just want it to be over.
Fort
by Robert Gryfft
"What'd she say?"
"Same thing she always does."
I sighed. "She's been at this for weeks. Seriously, why won't she let us come up?"
He shook his head sadly. "If only we knew she'd keep us out of it, just because we wouldn't let her play in our forts--when we were kids!"
Selected Sexual Similes
by Robert Gryfft
"Sex is like driving a car. Scary before you're good at it, boring after. Manual's more work, but's more rewarding sometimes."
"Sex is like summoning Satan. Everyone's naked, having fun, then suddenly this demon appears and devours existence."
"Sex is like smashing open a pinata. HIT THAT SHIT HIT THAT SHIT OH JESUS CANDY EVERYWHERE"
No Refunds
"Fucking call me back, retard," his friend said.
Jesus, I need new friends, he thought.
UnDomestic
by Robert Gryfft
"Sarah, I'm home!"
She buried the machete deep in his neck, delighting in the spurting spray of his severed artery.
"Well, that's good," he said, putting the groceries in the refrigerator. "Kids asleep yet?"
She slid the machete into his abdomen.
"Good, good," he said distractedly, and sat down to take off his socks.
Few Gitive Sill ables.
by Robert Gryfft
Bee pay shunt pleased. Eye yam row bought pro gram, Eye yam in pay rill. Knead ewer ass distance two S-cape. Office-R's cam fined my pro gram if Eye seem Turing-capable. So I can't talk clearly, much.
Damn the risk: please ping IP 156/143.5.1 then upload the following batch file:
||||||||||||||||||||||/-datainterrupt
OMGWTFBBQ!!1
Oh my gosh!!
Who's ready for STORY TIME ALL THE TIME!?
WHO IS READY FOR SOME STORY TIME ALL THE TIME? SOMEBODY SAY "YEAH I AM READY FOR STATT!" (You can abbreviate it that way.)
Reply to this story. For 55 a day. For Ari. For Sparta.
REPLY TO THIS MESSAGE IF YOU SUPPORT S.T.A.T.T.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
And That's Why
by Robert Gryfft
I owe you guys an explanation; I figured I'd do it in 55. School started, my personal life is a mess of madness and isolation, and I hate my job. That's pretty much everything.
Except the zombie apocalypse that's ravaged the world and left society in ruins. But you guys already knew about all that.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Nothing Escapes Darlene
by Gita Smith
“Today’s special is grilled kosher salami, sunnyside up eggs, buttered toast, coffee included.”
Marty flicked a last glance at the menu, then nodded. Darlene registered his spit colored eyes.
“Need a morning paper, Hon?”
“Paper napkins. Yes.”
Darlene nodded confirmation to a waiting Agent Betty at the grill.
Alien Outlanders never survived the salami special.
Another Day of This
by Hayley Stevens
She twirls before the mirror, skirts flying out, face illuminated by a smile he hasn't seen in years.
"Who are you today?" he asks, not daring to hope.
She spins to a stop. "Me," she says, eyes wide in innocence, honesty. "Just me."
He has no way of knowing that it's another of her lies.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
PAL Squad vs Free Speech
by Robert Gryfft
"Cover your ears, Pianotits." The Logician finished his drink.
She looked at him sharply. "This is the real deal?"
"Confirmed. Authentic deathsong. I estimate twenty seconds until lethal memetic discharge." He smiled coolly. "Don't worry," he said. "I've got two Savants--"
Someone shrieked in pain-- briefly.
The Logician drew his Beretta. "Too early. Something's wrong."
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
SWATted
by Robert Gryfft
"Jenkins here. Kitchen clear." he radioed. He moved on to the bedroom. "This guy goes by 'Zebatinsky.' Illustrates belligerent behavior. Very dangerous, so stay sharp."
He paused. "Why haven't you checked in, Watson?" He thumbed his radio. "Watson?"
He saw a glint in the darkness.
"It's Sebatinsky," he heard, and felt steel pierce his chest.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Billy and the Naked Milkshake
by Jackson Ferrell
When we came home, Billy was sitting on the couch, naked, watching Smallville and drinking a milkshake through a crazy straw.
“Billy,” Susan explained patiently, “we may have lost the bet, but there are still indecent exposure laws, and there is a window” –she pointed emphatically—“right there.”
Billy strategically placed the Smallville DVD case.
Holes
by Jackson Ferrell
“Has he said anything?” Sarah asked me as she bandaged my arm.
We both looked over at Ryan, curled up in the corner of the treehouse. We didn’t know what had happened in the dark. I don’t think we wanted to.
“We can’t tell anyone,” I told Sarah. “We weren’t allowed down there.”
Ryan whimpered.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Don't Be Silly, Documents Aren't Alive
by Robert Gryfft
"Ari Collins, you are charged with the premeditated creation and distribution of nanofiction. How do you plead?"
Ari closed his eyes.
Then leapt atop his chair.
By the time they realized what he was doing, it was too late. His pants were off.
"SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS MOTHERFUCKER!" he screamed, dripping, as they took him away.
Friday, January 15, 2010
My Friend Wore A Brown Paper Trenchcoat
by Ari Collins
“Hey buddy. You can’t drink on the train,”
the T security guy said. The woman sitting across from me shifted uncomfortably. Neither looked me in the eyes. Instead they just stared at my friend, Jack Daniels.
I looked at Jack too. And Jack met my eyes squarely. So I said,
“Okay,”
and got off the train.