Slow Motion_Exotic Venus Fly Traps (and Where to Buy Them)_A Gift From Mom_The Umbrella Man
Catalog Guide:
Slow Motion
My demons were louder than usual tonight. But their voices were garbled, unintelligible. It was like listening to a record played backwards. I even tried that once. I was not even born in 1981, when a Michigan minister named Michael Mills (another Mike with issues) rambled at some Christian radio that phrases like “master Satan,” “serve me,” and “there’s no escaping it” were hidden in the grooves of the Led Zeppelin hit “Stairway to Heaven” when played backwards.Of course, I don’t own a vinyl record player and moreover, I don’t have a Led Zeppelin record. And even if I had one, I wouldn’t sub...
Exotic Venus Fly Traps (and Where to Buy Them)
Driving down barren Highway 43 on a dreary summer afternoon, Lily noticed a peculiar sight just up ahead – a man sitting behind a lone table on the side of the road. A sign hanging on the edge of the table read, “Exotic Venus fly traps looking for a loving caregiver. ALL SALES FINAL.” That’s quite an odd sight, thought Lily, as she approached the roadside merchant. Lily slowed down and parked her car in front of the display. She got out and walked up to the merchant. Laying on the merchant’s table were clear plastic bags, each bag containing exwww.onedoor.ccactly one seed. “What type of plants are these?”“...
A Gift From Mom
Maggie leans her back against the wall to let her seven year old grandson, Milo, measure her. Milo holds a pencil in his right hand and is standing on a step stool so that he is hovering just over Maggie. He sticks his tongue out in concentration as he makes his mark on the wall to indicate the top of Maggie’s head.“You’ve shrunk an inch!” He exclaims gleefully.Maggie Tsks. “Impossible.” She says. “Measure again.”Milo obediently does as requested. “Yup.” He says, pleased with himself. “You’re definitely shrinking.”Maggie feigns alarm and turns around to inspect the measurement. She places a de...
The Umbrella Man
Soren didn’t hear him coming in, or what he said as he drained the water from his boots into a bucket.“What?”Gallagher said it again, but the door was open and the roar outside filtered whatever he shouted at the top of his lungs.“Close the door!” Soren yelled, making a slamming motion with his hands.The bell above it made a delicate cling as audibility was restored. Water droplets tapped at his mug as Soren realised that the roof had become a belly, swollen, precipitation leaking into his chamomile tea. “You don’t make boots too, do you?” Gallagher said; his voice no longer drowned out by the...