A Damn Fine Martini_Her Familiar_Trio of Charity_Impressionism
Catalog Guide:
A Damn Fine Martini
The night was starting to wind down and Jim was feeling the hours. He had gotten to work at 10:30am and would be wrapping up business around midnight. Most of his patrons had trickled out at this point. He was hunched over his faithful three-tiered sink, diligently cleaning and stacking glassware to dry. Once his prodigious pile of dishes was cleansed, he’d make a sweep of the tables and set to polishing. It was about an hour before last call, but the time was moving steadily.The bar stools were empty and the tables of guests had mostly been cleared. Everyone was sitting comfortably with a dri...
Her Familiar
Ladine had been living in her little cottage outside the limits of the tiny, growing town for a year or so now. She’d had visitors of course, those seeking out herbal remedies and to have their fortunes told in a teacup or on the lines of their palms. But this visitor was new.A slim, rumpled, black cat sat on her doorstep, tail wrapped just so around its front paws, staring up at her with golden eyes the precise color of the fall leaves on the surrounding trees. They remained like that for just a bit, studying one another, the cat obviously knowing what it wanted.“Alright then, come inside.” ...
Trio of Charity
“Ugh, again Bill? How many times are you gonna get arrested this year?”“Annie, come on, just this one last time. You can make it my Christmas present if you gotta.”“Oh, Bill, like I’d get you a present. But you’re right it’s almost Christmas so I will give you something. I’m going to let you learn the lesson of dealing with the consequences of your actions, don’t call me again.” I hung up and threw the phone on the bed, then flopped down myself. God, I hate Christmas, it’s full of greedy people, and selfish users using the spirit for their gain. Ever since I was a kid Christmas was all about m...
Impressionism
ImpressionismOn the walls of Ishi’s house were pictures his Mum had painted: red and purple figures shaking their heads or moving their hands in front of their faces; naked bodies painted from behind that were little more than a blue smudge. But we never spoke much about her art. We stayed up late playing Sonic the Hedgehog and Jazz Jackrabbit on Ishi’s Dad’s computer. One time I stayed over at Ishi’s, I wet the bed, but his Mum didn’t get angry. She stripped the blow-up mattress I’d been sleeping on and let me sleep in hwww.onedoor.ccis little sister’s room, who she took in to sleep with her. I remember hi...