Kids are for Trxxks by Katherine J. Parker

Monster Breakfast by The Despot

“Don’t play with your food, honey,” Lrglphmp gurgled.

“But it’s more fun when I gotta catch’em.” Hrglphx gave the scrabbling bipeds a poke. They scattered, clambering up the walls of his bowl.

“Hm, a bit underdone.” Lrglphmp leaned over and delivered a glob of corrosive mucus to her son’s meal. “Better let them ferment.”

“Boooorrring,” Hrglphx groaned as his playthings grew lethargic. “They’re better raw.”

Lrglphmp thrust a tentacle behind the salt shaker, snatching an escaped morsel. It screamed as she tossed it into her gaping maw. “You’re right, humans do taste better raw.”

Shopping Cart Matador by The Despot

Supermarket Sunset by FramedByNature on DeviantArt.com

“Get in,” said Jeff, rocking the shopping cart.

Quentin gulped. “That’s steep.”

Downhill, Martin shouted, “Yo, chicken shit!” He removed his shirt, waggling it matador-style.

Quentin growled, “Douchebag.”

“C’mon pussy!” called Martin.

Huffing, Quentin climbed in the cart.

Jeff handed him two screwdrivers. “Your horns.” Then he kicked the cart.

Quentin lurched. The cart careered downhill.

Martin swept his cape.

The cart juddered. Screaming, Quentin clenched the screwdrivers.

The cart hit a pothole. Quentin flew.

Martin’s cackles stopped with an “Oof!”

Quentin rolled off Martin, who gurgled, a screwdriver piercing his heart.

Quentin whispered, “Don’t die.”

Obliviously, Jeff shouted, “Olé!”

 

 

Out With The Bad by Adam Francis Smith

Attack by Famous and Fabulous on DeviantArt.com

Nobody was dying from the sickness any more, but that didn’t mean that nobody was dying. The constant reminder that Tilda was dying was the wet sucking sound every time she breathed.
She couldn’t run. She’d die fighting, or from drowning – she never should have pulled the knife from her ribs, but it was the only weapon she could reach. She pounced from the shadows when her pursuer turned the corner. The knife slipped in between two ribs and soon there was a pair of dying women lying in the hall. Each died wondering if the other still breathed.

Surrender to the Past by Adam Francis Smith

Blowgun by ToddWestcot on DeviantArt.com

The bandits fought like ancient street thugs. I grabbed a swinging chain and pulled. My attacker spun. I stabbed.
POW! The bandit leader’s pistol was pointed skyward.
“Join us and be initiated!”
I wasn’t near enough to do harm with knife or chain, so I freed my pipe from my sleeve. I blew.
The dart flew. All eyes followed until it sank into the gunman’s neck.
In seconds he was dead.
My comrades brought forth their own pipes.
The bandits dropped their weapons, raising their empty hands, realizing we had reached farther back into history for our weaponry.

Sound Carries by Joshua Begley

Dolphin’s nightmare by rocioam7 on DeviantArt.com

The baby wouldn’t shut up, so I did what I had to do. It was ridiculous how large my hand was compared to his face. I covered his mouth, his nose, his eyes. He squirmed and huffed, but eventually his little body went limp.

I wanted to cry, there in that ruin that had once been a house. Rain poured in from the swiss cheese roof and ivy grew on the walls. My house used to be like that. Once upon a time.

I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. The dolphin’s hearing was too good.

Pirate Paul by Edward Van Hemingway

By Phillip M. Jackson on DeviantArt

Legendary one-named rulers: Conan, Genghis …  and Paul.  Standing six feet from shoulder to shoulder and five foot from the ground.  Iron fists and a head like a boulder.  A friend like that is good to have around.

He came from a land called Nova Scotia.  His perspiration equaled the alcohol by volume of Kettle One Vodka.  Women threw themselves at him.  Those that didn’t, he sodomized and ate, bones included.  The same went for men.

In a vicious battle for land, the clan called, “Disney” dared to infringe on his kingdom.  But that, is another story …