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Weekly Contest #15
I Underneath the malodorous melange of Barley’s Biker Bar, D’Artagnan smelled a waft of armpits. He opened his leather vest a little, just to make sure it wasn’t him. It wasn’t. Barley’s just kinda smelled like that. Over the past year, Barley’s Biker Bar had become an every night thing for D’Artagnan. But he didn’t crank his Harley ninety miles each way every night so that he could take part in Barley’s regular raucous din. He didn’t really care for the nightly bullshit contests and abject stupidity that infected the place. He didn’t even d...
Weekly Contest #14
The mid-70s Plymouth Duster idled at the McDonald’s drive-thru with three cars stacked ahead of it in the queue. Jeff sat in the passenger seat. He broke into a cold sweat. “We could have gone to the North Pier Mickey D’s, but this one has better fries. They probably change the fry oil more often, you know. Then again, North Pier has colder soda. Something about the ice, I guess,” Roger said from the driver’s seat. “Hey, you alright kid?” Jeff shook his head and said, “Oh, yeah, sure, I’m just a little hot.” Roger rolled down his window, nod...
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