After my breakfast of cold spaghetti leftovers and two glasses of chocolate milk, I lounged about the house again, wearing my usual outfit: striped boxer shorts and unseasonably warm wool socks. Around noon, just after returning from the back yard, where I had watered the red dirt and looked for signs of any remaining plant [...]

She was hot but he was average. She wanted money and marriage but he needed sex and love. She was greedy and he was possessive. She was unfaithful so he acted needy. She is dead and he is missing.
Kia Storm

I love the New York Yankees, but I don’t consider myself a fan. The word grates on me the way “fanatic” can. Madmen who sacrifice human lives for the unattainable! And what about deranged dog lovers who kiss Pooch on the mouth? Don’t they care where that dog licked last?
Sal Buttaci

The web in the corner of the garden is torn. It was the wind and the elements, and the squirming of insects attempting to escape. I wait, watching for the spider’s return, but it doesn’t. I take my rake and brush it away.
Offbeatjim Wittenberg

Tonight, I have a rather important appointment. I slip into my Bespoke shirt and Giorgio Fiorelli suit. My Florsheim shoes polished immaculately. The Beretta, once tucked inside my Hugo Boss leather belt, now placed firmly against the roof of my mouth. It is very important to dress well when meeting your Maker.
Paul Phillips

“Death, taxes and disappointment; those are your constants in life, right there.”  The careers advisor looked the kid over.
“So what are my options, then?”
The Advisor blew out a puff of stale air; “Well, funeral director, Inland Revenue or writer: everything else is pretty much redundant.”
Mark Robinson

The local newspaper headed the story: Rafter Lost, Search Party Continues. They found two of the girls half-dead by the river, but one was still missing, so they started dredging the cold, deep waters. But they wouldn’t find Sheryl Reynolds. She was dead and I had a chance to start over.
Erin Cole

I saw you yesterday, babe. At the coffee shop downtown fondling the register and grinding them beans. Twirling your hair, pouring yourself into cups, for every guy that walked in. Laughing like a little girl, bending your body unnaturally. I said. Good afternoon. And you licked them lips, twisted them hips and made me a [...]

I dreamed I was Don Quixote, imagining and then fighting monstrosities to become the most gallant knight in the land.
When I woke, I remembered the world had enough monsters—without me creating more.
I spend my time hiding from them, wishing for a Quixote.
Chris Smith