A Predator Walks Into A Bar
Jake’s stomachs growled. The big boss had sent him into town to meet with the company’s newest computer geek. The noob had selected a Marriott near the spaceport. Jake hated Marriotts, always full of squirrels.
The Oz Casino
The alley, you would have sworn, is empty. Blank concrete walls and a narrow, colorless door, likely out of use for years. You’re turning your head to say it’s a bust when the light blazes into existence, catching the corner of your eye, flooding the door and the whole lane with blood-red light: a bent-neon sign and the words THE OZ CASINO.
The Future is Written on Words
I write this in bright sunshine, teasing words from air that is rich with glimmering motes. My hands trace calligraphic arcs against the cloudless sky, circling primrose, aconite, forget-me-nots.
Mercy is for Morning
It was close to three a.m. when a woman came into the Borderlands diner. I slipped the book I was reading under the counter and said, “Morning.”
After He’s Gone
Down at the town hall, everybody decided I should be the one to smash up the Invader’s statue. Folks in town call me Joe-Fix-It. I’m usually around doing odd jobs, helping mend a fence or changing a tire. And I’ve always been handy with a sledgehammer. No sweat, I told them.
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