zero hour

illustrations by pete palomine

zero hour had come and gone the all clear was sounded billy opened the window and looked out a cat ran down the street a dog ran across the lawn education had not proved to be the answer maybe frankie would come back now from beyond the grave how do you know? that was the insistent question just then the phone rang billy drew a picture of a kangaroo louise answered the phone maybe, billy heard her say now he was in for it outside in the distance sirens started up perhaps the world was ending after all it couldn’t end quick enough maybe they would get it right this time suddenly it all came back to him he remembered the tiger under the front porch in the old homestead in old virginia where the wisteria ran wild excuse me, louise interrupted the call is for you zeros are beyond counting all the family will be here tomorrow for the reading of the will

yeti

illustrations by pete palomine

yeti came by again last night he had nothing new to say he told all the old stories i don’t want to say he was boring we told him we were charmed but politely declined his invitation exquisitely phrased as it was to follow him to hell and back vanessa got up and scratched her neck but held yeti’s importunate gaze roger was not interested and kept murmuring, just so… just so vanessa disappeared into the kitchen we heard laughter outside the window meaning is not always clear the night is a more gracious host than we odious and imperfect humans programmed as we are to snickers and rude remarks roger quietly reminded our guest that vanessa always remembered everything say what you will i always thought there was something more unless you have something to add i would very much like to go to bed when yeti put down his cup and began making his excuses roger yawned without apology and the ritual of civilized behavior was concluded yet again

exhalation at dusk

illustrations by konrad kraus

euphemia exhaled softly her youth was over nothing could bring it back now alfred was carefully knotting his cravat beyond the green lawn the sun had set contrary to the gypsy’s prediction demons had not erupted from the earth and the encyclopedia remained on the shelves alfred’s followers were expected shortly and he would gratify them with a heroic excorication of the current government in which no room would be left for incomprehension the juniper bush was still in bloom due to the kind ministrations of the old gardener who had served the household since lady lucretia’s time and the moonlight showed them to advantage no such advantage would accrue to mr noakes the oldest member of alfred’s party and the most persistent in his impertinent questions to euphemia of which she had repeatedly complained to the implacably sanguine alfred tonight would be no different unless there was an unexpected invasion of those very demonic forces that euphemia devoutly wished would exponentially devour the countryside and the yet to be born new world of which she was already heartily tired

the vampire

illustrations by eddie el greco

the vampire’s house was dark whenever veronica walked past except on tuesdays when a yellow light shone in the upstairs window nobody believed in the vampire any more after the hard-hitting expose in the weekly gazette boys had stopped throwing stones at the house and change was in the air a few despondent acolytes remained but their energy was at a low ebb father bill, the fighting exorcist, had left town on a gray afternoon just before thanksgiving however veronica was not daunted she had a burning intensity all her own her juvenile record would remained unrevealed by the kindly record keeper at the courthouse a lady who herself had known ostracism and had memories of vanished millennia when necromancers ruled the earth and skies and the orphans of baal and moloch walked the roads the shadow of pluto has never left the town the role of queen of darkness has yet to be filled those who remember still hope for reward in the snowy silence of the unbaptized winter tomorrow is forever to the initiated and the uninitiated alike victory is just a word but the wine of eternal death ages in the cellar of eternity

understanding

illustrations by eddie el greco

understanding is crucial very soon they will arrive with their waistcoats and questionnaires they will accept no excuses not even for youth and comeliness or the yawning void king arthur himself can not save us barricaded as he is behind his walls we must be courteous and evince no sudden outbursts of despair after all we are not elephants and look forward to no tigers on the horizon greatness has surely eluded us and happiness is not even a dream we can not plead ignorance just when the train is arriving keep a copy of the proceedings but do not let them see you secretly smile many documents are yet to be released and no one - not even ajax - will read them all outside a bird is singing inside a parrot is listening - or a panther who may already have reached his quota but be keeping a gazelle in reserve so that is the way of it it is troublesome to be sure uncle jonathan would never have understood dedicated as he was to the concept of total victory

tornado

illustrations by danny delacroix

the tornado had no conscience ralph and vanessa sailed along under the darkening sky they were very much alone on the highway where would it all end? they were extremely in love youth would be served nothing would ever separate them after all they had been through together buck brady had a job to do he was charged with bringing ralph and vanessa back dead or alive every coyote was born with a tail forever is a long time you get what you pay for especially on an empty highway i dare you just for a thousand thrills a knight and his golden lady don’t laugh, mister and mrs america maybe you have a better idea? you’ll never know if you don’y try out on the horizon a figure approached was it pete jones cone back? ralph felt a strange foreboding vanessa was strangely quiet for once it wasn’t pete jones - it was the sorcerer the tornado laughed the road rolled away under the black sky

resurrection

illustrations by danny delacroix

he resurrection of the reporter surprised the skeptics in scandinavia torrents of tendentious abuse undermined any understanding of the various issues involved when will we be free to wander youthfully through the trees noting the nothingness of nowhere absolution is always aggressive birds are always beautiful and cobras convalesce in the dusty dioramas of divulgence everyone is guilty fortunately for the jury who gasp with genuine surprise at the tears of the obsolete housewife incandescence is always welcome just when you least expect it knowingness winks in a paper cup lions prowl in the daylight of anathema many words have been spoken none more tender than by the commissioners oligarchs must stand in the sun and pray for the pardon of plunderers they quickly return to their crossword puzzles and their retrograde model airplanes someday soon tornados will grace the walls of their monasteries

quiet village

illustrations by eddie el greco

the village was quiet the reporter approached it quietly snow began to fall the tension was tremendous everything would be understood when the official version was revealed the whole world was waiting with breathless expectancy youth would be served zeal for justice would be satisfied it would all start all over again behind the walls of the village the countryside had its own charm despite the darkening clouds evening approached fate beckoned time seemed to genuflect to the hero would emerge incandescent in the twilight just in the nick of time of course we now know the lachrymose outcome of the whole affair and make ourselves comfortable in the unfolded night it was obvious all along to the prophets of despair as they quickly adjusted their accounts to resurrect the rosy future

party, part 2

illustrations by danny delacroix

paul had always been the life of the party he was quietlly upset when larry replaced him being replaced in this world is never fun suddenly all anybody could talk about was larry it was a time of reflection for paul it was not unheard of for someone to make a comeback from the deepest depths of violent despair but what, exactly , could he do? he had always expected a lot from himself even as a young partygoer just starting out he had zero tolerance dor mediocrity and absolutely no patience for excuses bring to on, he muttered to himself as we walked through the calamitous night maybe the dinosaurs couldn't come back but he expected more from himself first, he needed a plan the gods couldn't help him he had to be his own hero just then he looked down the street judy and louise were headed his way they had kind of sort of been his best friends they had partied until dawn long nights ago it was always midnight when they got together now as they approached on winged feet he felt was it was like to be on the outside paris and london and rome were far away and his tears flowed like quicksand in st louis

party, part 1

illustrations by konrad kraus

for morrison, the party came first he worked quintessentially behind the scenes he wrote and read endless reports he seldom emerged from the shadows his time would never come he understood that victory, however distant, was enough whether he would be there to see it exactly when he converted would be speculated on years later but no traces could be found of his alleged apostasy the bankruptcy of dreams is a constant of history but the dreams never die they evolve in the awakening of ectoplasm fortuitously a diary has been discovered and grudgingly admitted by haughtily sceptical experts into the endless investigation neither jury of his peers nor knightly champion can lightly dispel the monsoon of indifferent time nothing has been finally established and oblivion patiently awaits for the party itself to be consigned to the quicksandest of landfills

nothingness

illustrations by penmarq studios

nothingness is expensive especially on the outskirts of town the plutocrats gathered on the patio for a smoke but quicksand remained the best option ruthie mae watched from the window as the seance was held on the verandah her turtle was asleep as usual she wished she understood more about it violent emotions were unleashed when the forbidden subject was broached except this time there would be no next time and the young people looked away no one blamed the sunset although some thought it inappropriate she was still her mother's baby and the cat was never found the detective did not deliver on his promise everyone agreed she never really had a friend the grumpy old man next door stopped coming to the window have you ever been lonely? i know i have just thinking about it makes me sad kids these days - they just don't understand a dream of being a lion tamer is not the most propitious these days nothingness is forever and obsolescence weeps at the laundromat