Older Women – By Joshua Scribner
Flash Fiction / November 30, 2008

“To answer your question, yes, I am gay. Why not? I mean, aren’t you so hot no straight man could resist you? So why don’t you just believe what you need to believe and go away. You’re probably scaring away someone I might want to be around.” The little blonde with the massive chest hopped off the barstool and scampered out the door like a field mouse retreating to a hole in the ground. Tony ignored the glares of several men, who were no doubt angry that he’d chased away what they considered the top prospect in the bar. He wanted to return to nursing his Martini and making eyes at the creature on the other side of the room, but he was severely dejected to see she was no longer sitting there. “That was very rude of you.” He turned back to see the woman he wanted was sitting on the stool the other woman had vacated. “How did you sneak up on me like that?” he asked. “I’m crafty,” she said, lowering her head a little and looking up in a way that drove him crazy. “But you shouldn’t have done that to that poor woman. I mean,…

The Nude In The Bathroom – By Mary J. Breen
Flash Fiction / November 16, 2008

I’m not sure I remember where their house is. I know we go along 12th, and then- I know where we turn. I’ll tell you. Good. So Jane, before we get there, I heard you on the phone telling Margaret that you hate that painting in our bathroom. Is this true? All this time and you never said anything? So, tell me: why do you hate it? I told you I wasn’t keen on it when we had the bathroom renovated. I told you the colours were wrong, and the size too, but you were so quick to argue. That’s when I realized- Realized what? Don’t pretend you don’t understand, Donald. And do we have to do this right now? Oh, it’s the next corner, so get in the turning lane. Right. But please, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why don’t you like it? I think it’s lovely. All that colour and movement. So softly stated. So much suggested. Ahh, I’ll bet you think it’s indecent! You can be such a prude sometimes. Oh for chrissake, Donald. Softly stated. Colour and movement. Stop being so obtuse! How can you pretend to be so clever one minute and so…

Belly Timber – By T.R. Healy
Flash Fiction / November 9, 2008

“You about ready to get this rascal out of here?” Irv, the manager of Wolford’s Piano and Organ Company, asked his lead mover. Clyde shook his head as he walked around the enormous Steinway, which was wrapped in three thick moss green blankets. Its legs were removed and also wrapped in blankets. “You know you’ve got a good forty-five minute drive to the cruise boat?” “I know,” he said, making sure the straps were secure. “The sooner you’re on your way the sooner you’ll arrive.” “Thanks for pointing out the obvious.” Irv grinned. “I’m just trying to be helpful.” Clyde rolled his eyes at the other members of his moving crew then made sure the lid was locked. “All set?” “I suppose.” “There’s no supposing when you’re moving something close to a ton in weight.” Clyde grinned now. “I know, Irv. I’ve been doing this for almost eleven years.” “So you have, and with only one accident I believe.” “I don’t remember.” “I do.” Then, on the count of three, the crew tipped the instrument onto a piano board and then onto a dolly and started out the back door with Clyde reminding them, as usual, “You move the piano,…