When It Doesn't Pan Out_One Of Those Things That Unravels When You Blow On It_The Trials of Ralp
Catalog Guide:
When It Doesn't Pan Out
Amber, a young meerkat journalist, sat in the last booth of ‘Rod’s Roadside Café.’ A plump coyote waitress ran to and fro into the kitchen behind her. It was late evening and the sun was quickly fading into night. The woods past the parking lot were turning from a pleasing orange into black.The meerkat, dressed in a skirt and semi casual blouse, reached into her purse and checked her essential items: Recorder? Check. Notepad and pen? Check. Pepper spray? Check.It certainly wasn’t her first choice for meeting a contact, especially considering the scathing review Amber had done on the place back...
One Of Those Things That Unravels When You Blow On It
One Of Those Things That Unravels When You Blow On ITIt had been twenty-two years since Herb attended a New Year’s Eve celebration. He had not even heard the words “Happy New Year” for ten. We will never know the motivation with any degree of certainty, but this year Herb decided he would celebrate the arrival of the new year. And he would do it up big.Divorced and living alone, Herb would occasionally partake in the pointless exercise of trying to recall whether he left the world or had the world left him. Either way, Herb was what most would call a loner, a recluse, perhaps even a hermit. He...
The Trials of Ralph of Hairstow-on-Stretford
It’s a slap what wakes me, right across my face. Is that Gemma, I wonder? Before my eyes can open I loose a mighty burp and trumpet a righteous wind. “Good lord!” a man yells. “By all that’s holy!” says another. “That is foul indeed!” I try to open my eyes. My lids are thick, heavy, covered with honey or something. When I crack them it’s painful bright out and I wince. I could have sworn it was night just a moment ago, but everything’s blurry. Vision, memory, all of it. Like that time Gemma said she was expecting yet another mouth to feed. I’m on my feet. In town? In the market? Two men hold m...
Life imitating art
The drinks they were giving out at the awards ceremony were definitely not strong enough. I deftly pick up 2 full glasses from the server just seconds after placing down my empty one. The warm Californian sunshine was blinding and I felt hot in my new Armani but this is what I had wanted all my life: walkingwww.onedoor.cc the red carpet amongst the top ‘dramatis personae’ in Hollywood, separated nicely from the crowds and paparazzi all beckoning from beyond the barriers.And yet I felt sick - nothing to do with the bad Prosecco or the nomination – it’s the guilt - sitting in my stomach like a bad meal. My vi...