By PDMACpayday loans

Qui etes-vous

Emily said, “I am nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too? ….
I am not Charlie’
nor The Prophet’s son.
Just a friend of Emily’s,
and that is quite enough.
by Doug Mathewson

Filed Under Micro Fiction, Poetry & Essay
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Wilhelm’s Job

Since Wilhelm was the oldest, his job was wiping snot from Grandfather’s great
walrus like mustache. Wilhelm often waited until long drooping strands were dangling off
Grandfathers chin. Grandfather did not care for Wilhelm. Wilhelm did not care for Grandfather.

Gretchen, the youngest, just knew in her heart she’d knife the old man before she’d take over Wilhelm’s job. She stabbing Grandfather would make their mother very sad Gretchen knew, so she daydreamed about burning their little house down while everyone was asleep.

Wilhelm’s middle sister, Little Martha, told all this to the blind man who sold postcards in front of the Cathedral. They were close friends. Little Martha picked out all the postcards that he sold. She told him they were religious paintings by Renaissance Masters depicting Saints, Holy Miracles, and Bible stories.

They were actually photos naked muscle men. The pictures were well done, Mediterranean sunshine gave a warm tone to the oiled bodies of these young men.
Most often they posed to display their striking physiques. Sometimes they were kissing or just holding hands.

by-Doug Mathewson

Filed Under Flash Fiction
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Modern Medicine

The new vet diagnosed our old cat’s as being hyper-thyroid,
and prescribed a medicated cream to be applied twice daily.
The cream comes in felt tipped applicators. Two twist of the
base puts the proper dosage on the tip, and you gently rub it
inside the cat’s ears. This beats trying to get a pill down her by far.
The applicators are expensive! I’m thinking we could supplement
the medication with a high-liter. Alternate the two for a placebo
affect. Besides, Kitten will be so cute with florescent yellow ears
and coal black fur. Just the perfect picture for our Christmas cards.

by Doug Mathewson

Filed Under Micro Fiction
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Schools and Government Offices will be closed.

Hangings have always been good for business.
The She-Scouts made little nooses to sell.
The He-Scouts will roast sausages stuck on sticks.
Tomorrow they’ll string up the guy who slipped all
those nasty annoying little spinning pinwheels into Apple
computers. The turnout should be huge.

.
Doug Mathewson
 

Filed Under 55 Words / 50 Words
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November 3rd

I bought a ice cream sandwich and a lottery ticket at the gas station on my way to vote so it wouldn’t be wasted trip.
 
doug mathewson

Filed Under Micro Fiction
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Montreal

Yellow hybrid Prius taxi cab.
Windows open airport to hotel Grand Prix.
Tall Nigerian driver shouting French.
Shooting his hands left and right pointing out
bars, restaurants, clubs, and galleries.
Places where an uncle or a cousin works.
He promises me special treatment, special prices.
“The common, the ordinary, these are not for you.”
he adds, as we run every red-light.

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Perfect Pups & Chat Anormal

“Being a veterinarian in Montreal must have been fascinating. Are you bilingual?
How did you handle the language thing?

“I had only recently graduated, and while the pay wasn’t what I hoped for I did enjoy living in the city very much. Language never was a problem. I spoke French to cats and English to dogs”.

“But that’s silly to assume all cats speak French and all dogs speak English. That’s
like saying all dogs are male and all cats female”.

“Research as proven conclusively that both sexes are represented in cats and dogs.
Communication is different. Most cats do of course speak French, and the few who don’t fake it, not willing to admit they don’t. Dogs are pretty easy going. Your happy, they’re happy. If the owner was French speaking, I’d wink at the dog and switch over.
if I didn’t like the owner I’d make them translate.”

“Translate to the dog.”

“Yes, translate, and I’d use tons of long and complicated medical terms.”

“Well that’s ridiculous. What about little Spanish gatos, or great German hounds. What did you say to them?”

“ We didn’t, just referred then to another practice. Usually the pet acupuncture lady in Chinatown.”

Filed Under Flash Fiction
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Musee’ d’Art Contemporain

The new museum of art building is so dramatic.
A four story wave of glass cresting the highest hill.
One hundred years of the best in contemporary art.
Every inch unique, no detail remains mundane.
Even the swirling form of asymmetrical urinals.
(Lefties best use a stall).

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Strapped for Cash

So was talking with the neighbor,
about cash being short.
Says at the Fire House they pass the boot.
Just stand out in traffic and people drop in cash!
Well, I tried it, but got to tell you,
Pass the flip-flop doesn’t work for shit.

Filed Under Micro Fiction
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leave a message……

This story has recently appeared at Jersey Devil press

…. leave a message

Hello, …. hey it’s me! I’m calling you from Heaven. Can you believe it? This is the last place I’d even imagine ending up! So I only get one phone call, like jail I guess, and wanted to say thanks and goodbye at least for now. Everything happened so suddenly
there wasn’t a chance till now to say how great you were to me.
Heaven’s not like you might think. Nothing at all like those cartoons of people with wings
wearing white robes and standing around on clouds. Maybe it was like that once, but not now. I’ll have to ask some of the old timers once I learn my way around. Heaven, or
at least heaven now, is completely individualized. You stay endlessly in what ever was the happiest part of your life. That’s what it seems like so far.
Up here I am nine years old and spend my time sitting or lying under different folding tables. The they are in a store that my older sister, Tina, worked at part time after school. It was a pinata store with hundreds of pinatas displayed hanging from the ceiling. Underneath were all these long tables piled high with party supplies including lots of Mexican candy to fill pinatas. There were so many strange sugary treats. Some with pictures of beautiful ladies with fans dancing, and other ones with funny wrestlers wearing masks! Candy with Jesus or with Saints I didn’t really understand on the wrappers, but all the candy was pure sugar (especially my favorites the decorated sugar skulls). Candy that makes your teeth hurt and your head spin.
Our mom had told Tina she had to keep an eye on me after school, so she took me with her to work. I’d read comics I had brought from home, or borrowed, and eat as much candy as possible. I really loved being there. Hot afternoons, lying on the concrete floor
in the shade of a table with tales of super hero adventure to sweep my racing heart and brain along.
There weren’t many customers during the week back then, and none at all now. Tina’s not here either so I don’t know if she has her own special time and place in Heaven or
has gone to Hell like Sister Maria Dolores said she would.
So far I haven’t seen anybody we know which, all things considered, probably makes sense. I shouldn’t form an opinion yet as most people our age are still young and healthy. I do wonder about older relatives, old people who were neighbors, family
friends, the postman or anybody. I can’t really picture them damned for eternity
so they must be in their own Heaven.
I hope it will be a a very long time before you get here, and some how I know that you will, but when you do, look for me. “Tio Bo-Bo’s” store in an old strip mall on RT-66, three blocks west of “Old Town” in Albuquerque new Mexico. I have freckles and a buzz-cut. You’’ll know me. I’m the kid vibrating at a frequency only dogs can hear, a
Jarittos fruit-punch in one shaky hand an old copy of “The Caped Avenger” in the other.

by-Doug Mathewson

Filed Under Flash Fiction
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