Ave, mater
Ave, pater
How’s my righteous, boring frater?
Camp is over
Shortly, I fear
But I’m penning this to ask if I can stay here.

All the busboys
Hate our money
And they say my
Eyes look funny.
Now we have to
Do our own dishes
Busboys last as long as pets of Aloysius.

And the counselors
Are all female
I think I’ve found
The holy grail.
All the pretty
Ones I’ve raided
Cause with cutlery they’re easily persuaded.

So I take them
To the woods
Tell them I wanna
See the goods.
Then I strip them
Of their illusions
Often leaving them
In need of blood transfusions.

Let me stay
We’re doing nature skills today.
I’m learning how to follow trails
And how to set a trap...
And how to build a fire.

Let me stay
Don’t interrupt my work, I pray.
Why, I’m about to undertake
A study of anatomy
With Bambi and his mom.

I’ll be gracious
I’ll be gentle
I’ll try not to
Be too mental.
I’ll cut out the
Necrophilia.
I will even eat the treats from Aunt Cornelia....   read more »

Vincent D’Agosta took another sip of his Bud and let his eyes wonder around the bar he’d ducked into on his way home. It was a cop hangout, decorated primarily with bullet-riddled silhouettes from various firing ranges. He wondered why they didn’t just hang bloody corpses on the walls. The bar also boasted framed (and only complimentary) NYPD headlines from the Times and the Post, some with pictures of bloody corpses. There were also photos of the city’s top cops, past and present, a motley collection of mostly balding, paunchy clones whose faces all seemed to resemble the one D’Agosta shaved every morning. He saw several uniformed cops and several more detectives, and a few women who may have been police groupies. The women sat in pairs, sipping drinks and eyeing the men in uniform like starving cannibals.

One particularly striking woman sat alone, two empty booths from his, sipping a white wine. Vincent found himself staring at her. Hayward had been out of town at a seminar for a week and he felt lonesome and horny. It was amazing how little time it took to get used to a regular sex life again, and how little time it took...   read more »

Agent Pendergast looked out
His window at Dakota
When the snow lay all about
Pale as his own scrota
“How I hate the cold,” he hissed.
“What would be the harm
in taking leave of this foul mess
and going someplace warm?”

He invited dear Vincent
They boarded a cruise ship
Just a couple single gents
Avoiding winter's cruel nip
The ship sailed and Vincent paled
For he began to blow chunks
Pendy was consumed with guilt
And quickly packed their trunks.

He chartered a whirlybird
Performed a ship-air pick up
Vincent's fear was quite absurd
Dickens he did kick up
Twirled and kicked and screamed his way
From the deck to the bird
Pendergast was heard to say,
“Oh, Vincent, my word.”

Then the chopper dropped them off
In North Carolina
At their protests, the pilot scoffed,
“Nothing could be finer!
You don't want to see the snow
You want milder weather
This place here will do you fine
Stay with my friend Feather.”

They found Feather's humble site
Dark, and out in the sticks
They asked why she had no light
She lit all her wax wicks
Asked them if they'd like to dance
Trip the light fantastic
Vincent volunteered but he
Proved to be quite spastic.

Feather turned to Pendergast
“Hey, tall, pale, and handsome...
Let's have us a little blast.
You and I can dance some.
Tell your friend to take a nap
His strength...   read more »

I remember waking cold, wet, shaking all over. And pain. Confusion. Something horrible lurked just beneath the surface of my mind, looming toward realization. Something so horrible that I wouldn’t be able to...

It hit me suddenly. Pendergast, intent on freeing me, trying to accomplish that and watch all the doors and corners at the same time. Me, seeing the approaching danger but able to make only unintelligible sounds through the gag. But it was enough to alert him, and I saw him hesitate for a split second, making the choice to cut my last binding before whirling to save himself. A fatal sacrifice. Not at all surprising, given what I had come to know about him.

I saw the gun being raised, saw Pendergast, rushing low in desperation, toward the point-blank powder burn that would surround the wound that would kill him. I do not remember thinking anything at that point, but I lurched from the chair, watching my right hand snatch a brick from the ramshackle fireplace and hail Mary it toward the assailant. My legs were numb and I started to fall. I heard the gun go off and a hoarse cry. A body thumped to the floor,...   read more »

Diogenes sings:

I would not be just a killer
Inspiration for a thriller
A forerunner of woe
(Do do, do do do do do)
I would be Mr. Rogers
Maybe playing for the Dodgers
If I didn’t have a bro.

Not so much an evil genius
Just bursting with the meanness
A scoundrel head to toe
(Do do, do do do do do)
I’d be friends with the kiddies
Sing them cutesy little ditties
If I didn’t have a bro.

Picture me
All bloodlust free
A happily married man
A Laz-z-boy and a minivan
Maybe a kid, not a master plan.

I’d be just another guy
Without a dead blue eye
See colors all aglow
(Do do, do do do do do)
Why, I might be presidential
I would have so much potential
If I didn’t have a bro.

***

Aloysius sings:

I would not be quite so scary
I might even remarry
Or get myself a ho
(Do do, do do do do do)
I’d be something of a sprite
And I’d get laid every night
If I didn’t have a bro.

I would not be known for killing
Life would be so fulfilling
Especially with this dough
(Do do, do do do do do)
I’d be friends with all the ladies
Not some English twit from Hades
If I didn’t have a bro.

Picture me
All full of glee
Instead of always dour
A remote...   read more »

She screamed, screamed bloody murder.

No.

She screamed, her hands flying to her mouth to try to

No!

She screamed, unable to stop the

NO!

She screamed.

Maybe.

She screamed. Jeff’s face turned a shade of red thatohbullshitbullshitbullshit

Lee stood up, stretching. Enough for today. It just couldn’t be forced. It was like sex that way, it either worked or it didn’t, and if it didn’t, no amount of pretending would make it right. Time to do something physical, work the kinks out. She decided to pull some weeds. At least it would get her out into the spring sunshine and fresh air before the rain they’d been calling for all week started. She’d made her preparations for the rain and waited for it for four days; it was beginning to appear that the weathermen had all graduated from the same lousy correspondence school of weather prognostication.

She looked down at her denim cutoffs and green tank and figured the president wouldn’t be stopping by, and if he did, it wasn’t like he was anyone she’d be wanting to impress anyway, since he hadn’t impressed her. She wrapped her hair into a ponytail, poured an iced tea, and took it with her out the back door to her little...   read more »

Mrs. Peabody smiled over my right shoulder and said, in her genteel old Mrs. Peabody voice, “Why, hello there.”

I didn’t bother to look around. Mrs. Peabody talked to someone over one of my shoulders almost every time I gave her medications. Thing was, there was never anyone there. Not in this dimension, anyway. I put the last spoonful of applesauce and crushed pills into her toothless mouth, gave her the rest of her Health Shake, and turned quickly, already imagining docking my medicine cart and retiring to the break room for an OJ. Instead I ran into a stone wall, bounced off, and hit...   read more »

My Dear Santa,

I happened to become privy to Diogenes’ letter (he asked me how to spell a few words) and just wanted to say that I am very proud of my nephew. His logic is impeccable.

I say give him what he wants, with the exception of the puppy or kitten. Instead, I suggest setting him up with the schoolyard bully (the other one), or your choice of Christian Right televangelist.

I hope you enjoy the cookies and tea I’ll be leaving under the tree for you this year. Also, I hope you appreciate the lighter workload you will have at my abode, as the other members of my family will no longer be requiring gifts. Ever.

Merry Christmas, Santa,
Cornelia Pendergast...   read more »