Plugs

Jason Fischer has a story appearing in Jack Dann’s new anthology Dreaming Again.

Edd Vick’s latest story, “The Corsair and the Lady” may be found in Talebones #37.

Read Rudi’s story “Detail from a Painting by Hieronymus Bosch” at Behind the Wainscot.

Susannah Mandel’s short story “The Monkey and the Butterfly” is in Shimmer #11. She also has poems in the current issues of Sybil’s Garage, Goblin Fruit, and Peter Parasol.

But Wait, There’s More

by David

Warn’t my fault that durn ice shelf cut loose. I was happy as can be to have it stay right where it set. But a man’s got to eat. After the GM plant shut down there warn’t no jobs. I was scraping by when I seen this ad on the TV, all about magic water fountains that never run out. I figured they’d need some salespeople. I rung the number they showed on the screen and sure enough, they had some openings. I went to a training session in a motel room. They didn’t have nothing to eat or drink cept water. Which, ‘cording to them, was free. I never seen such a cheap-ass bunch.

Guess that don’t matter now. I come on back and started travelin’. I talked about them water fountains and I lent one to Justin at the BP cos he said he would tell everybody where he got it. They started a-sellin’. I had four or five at the fourth of July picnic. I took a bunch of orders, and I sold ever one I had there with me. Pretty soon I couldn’t hardly keep up and needed to hire me some help.

That summer was drier than a coal-miner’s throat on Sunday, and the water fountains was sellin’ like crazy.
I knew the water come from somewhere. But I just kept sellin’. No, I ain’t guv it a thought. Don’t think no one else did neither. Not till all hell broke loose. An iceberg bigger than Alabama does attract some notice. I’ll be damned if it’s my fault it run over them islands, though. And it’s not like it run over ever blessed one. They’s more than 700 of them suckers, the way I hear it. I’m sorry about New Orleans, and Venus or whatever that italian city is. I’d make it up to ’em if I could.

Dunno where they come from. Ever’body been askin’ that. I ain’t got no clue. Don’t know nothin’ bout no flyin’ sorcers. I didn’t see nothing but that ad, and the fellow who ran the training meeting. He talked funny and he was real tall, 8 feet if he was a inch, but he warn’t no alien – he didn’t have them big eyes and bald head like they do.

The end

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