Giovanna BK

Barbara Blackston

Sophie Blackston

“Have you tried the butter-laced fried socks,” he asked the beautiful woman at the bar. The minute the words we’re out of his mouth he felt foolish.

She looked at him in astonishment and simpered “Why they’re my favorite “.

Enboldened by her enthusiasm, he pushed further. "And what about the raspberry coulis roasted shoes?" She turned and looked at him with disgust. "Have you no shame? Don't you know about the coulis incident...?"

Well yes he stuttered, but I wasn’t sure anyone knew about that. It was so many years ago and since then we’ve only used old slippers. So much better for the environment don’t you know.

Gheheh

Sam Becker

Rietje Becker

Christina Falzano

Angela Wolak

Ted walked briskly out of the sporting good store, out of the breath and deeply humiliated. He knew going in that he would never be a great golfer but what happened in there was ridiculous.

The sign at the store had said ALL GOLFERS WELCOME. All you had to do was put the ball in the hole to win a free hat. Ted stepped up, confident that his weekly games of mini golf would work in his favor. He hit the ball, but instead of the hole the ball hit an unexpected target.

The kids looked on in horror as his head proceeded to swell up to unbelievable proportions. Within moments, it was the size of a giant beach ball, but then continued to grow until finally his body looked akin to a stick on a giant lollipop and he struggled to keep his balance.

“Okay, this has gone too far,” said Michael, the oldest kid. He was starting to feel rather guilty about the whole situation. But that didn’t stop him from taking a lick of the lollipop head before he shooed the other children out of the room and away from the grim spectacle.

“Dad,” his oldest son Michael said. “You tried your best. Let’s just go home.” Ted looked around the room. How had it come to this? It started innocently enough with a golf club demo and ended with the store pro unconscious on the floor, vomit on his white polo shirt.

While Ted looked for the exit, Michael looked at the pro. His face, or what was left of it, was familiar. Suddenly it came to him. It was Jeff, his sister’s prom date. The prom was to take place in two days. Lauren had been preparing for months. “Dad. We have to leave NOW.”

But he was unable to leave. His foot snd a good portion of his shin was being consumed by an enormous pink bunny with fangs, one that bore a more than passing resemblance to the formerly inanimate and seemingly fangless bunny that had sat passively welcoming golfers to Hole 9.

As the trainee caddie passively looked on, he realized that the course manager's plan to put the bunny on a long term juice cleanse was perhaps a contributing factor to the monstrously unchecked growth of its teeth. But this was a problem well above his pay grade.

Never before had the caddie been so disgusted by a bunny. I mean, a bunny for heaven’s sake. How could a creature so inherently adorable have become so grotesque. He left the golf course and never went back. Ten years later he had become the town’s top dentist.

Rabbit in the Rough

Ben Syverson

Nat Steinsultz

Sean King

Zoe Becker

Frank Spiro

Gabriel Pincus

Sheila Sheedy

Joy Milne

Ross Weijer

While Steven P and Steven S had fought in public before, this was the first public food fight, and as they both went to bed angry, Steven P couldn’t help but feel a nagging pang of guilt.

Steven P went straight to bed that night without showering. He still had dried mashed potatoes under his eyes and grape jelly on his t-shirt. Normally this would have bothered him but he had a lot on him mind. For instance, what was Steven S up to?

He racked his brain trying to remember, Steven S hadn't been at last weeks meeting of the Stevens' club, which was strange because that was the day that Steven Q and Steven R had a rap battle, and everyone knows how much Steven S loves rap battles.

But he couldn’t remember what had been stopping him from going. Perhaps it was the intense sense of ennui born of so many Stevenses in one space all the time. He decided to make a break. He opened the white pages and searched for a club starting with the letter T.

"Thor's Hammer: Valhalla on Earth! Come for our shots of Odin's sweat, and relax in Loki's Lounge!" He wrote down the address, thinking this place seemed worth a try.

He stepped out of his taxi and saw a gigantic door made of wooden beams braced together with brass brackets. Small letters are burned into the wood: Thor’s Hammer. He’s about to grab the handle as a window opens in the door “Password?” A voice said. He ventured his best guess.

Turns out “octopus” wasn’t it. After his 4th guess at the password, the small window slid shut, and the ancient, wooden door creaked ajar. “Good thing I read the whole dictionary last night,” he thought to himself as he waddled forward.

The cruel irony— he could remember every word in the English dictionary, but couldn’t remember his own father. As he walked in the door he was met with a familiar must; a predator was close

When his father would hit his mother, he would dive further into the dictionary, memorizing everything he could to block out the present. Falling in love with a world of words kept him safe from the realities of home.

It was easier to commit to a book than to look at his mom's face.

His guilt poured out onto the pages he was supposed to be reading, but try as he might he just couldn't concentrate. All at once his glare stopped and fixed on the word, that one word that he knew would...

Change the future of the custom injection-molding industry forever. "Alack!" He shouted, barely able to contain his abandon. "Adding this to my patent will make us millions!" And his guilt evaporated, replaced by the cool, amoral certitude only excessive amounts of cash can buy.

Eureka in Loki’s Lounge

Richard Becker

Kara S

Waffles for breakfast were always a portender of something sinister.

Sheila had a thing for diners. All it took was one garish, art deco facade and she would cross three lanes of highway traffic to make the exit. It was exactly these circumstances that landed Sheila at Ricki's Roadside Cafe the morning she was to sign her divorce papers.

If the shapely Sheila had grasped how this particular diner experience was to violently upturn her life, she would have bolted in the opposite direction. Instead, she exited her Tiguan, clicked her fob (an extra click for good luck) and grabbed her not-yet-final divorce papers.

She walked into the streamlined chrome restaurant, looking for her former lover and current employer. Not seeing this person, she sat in the nearest booth and started perusing the menu. That's when it struck her that she was the only person in the silent diner.

Stranger still, the seat next to hers was still warm. She shifted her eyes slowly from the diner menu, and regarded the wet spoon to her left, still dripping from coffee. Where had they all gone? And why did she have a feeling they'd soon be coming back?

The vestiges of the first course haunted her for the remainder of the meal. She left the diner feeling confused but satisfied. As she passed the storefronts nearby, the reflections in the windows seemed to shift and wink.

Giovanna BK
@giovannabk

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Giovanna BK@giovannabk

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Giovanna's Stories

Giovanna BK
@giovannabk

Awards
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