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Weekly Contest #226
Artie J. Zeus looked down on the streets of Manhattan from the top floor of Olympic Tower. Yes, he was the top gun of Olympus, Inc., but he was constantly on guard against other, lesser gods who tried to steal his thunder. Literally. Like Monty Prometheus, VP for Energy. He had just stolen fire, to which Artie had sole rights, and given it to humans. “I’ll fire the bastard,” Artie told Hera, as he swilled a dirty ambrosia that evening. Hera laughed. “You can’t fire him. Once a god, always a god.” “Not necessarily. Think of that Nietzsche...
Weekly Contest #191
A cruise. If nothing else, she would get out of town, out of bleak mid-western winter, away from friends who meant well, but who could do nothing for her but stuff her full of comfort food: mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, pot roast and potatoes, and every so often a big, greasy slab of lasagna. She had gained ten pounds since Glen died six months previously; the only thing that still fit was her shoes. And so, because it was winter and the boys thought it would help and because she was sick to death of comfort food, she had signed up for a ...
Weekly Contest #164
I come from a place where people think nothing surprising ever happens. Not true. For instance, just last week on a typically frosty night, I drove up the treacherous gravel road, around the bend and into our driveway. As I got out of the car, I saw something massive headed toward me. Too tall for a dog, too broad for a coyote, not a cow, and--please God--not a bull, too bulky for a mountain lion, but it was running full tilt whatever it was. I looked around desperately for some way to defend myself. I had a plastic bag full of canned goods ...
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