Short, Fast, and Deadly

Short, Fast, and Deadly
i51
Edited by Joseph A. W. Quintela
28 November 2010

Featuring:
Maxwell Baumbach
Steven Gulvezan
Isabel Kestner
Matt E. Smith
Henry Vauban

Copyright © 2010 by Individual Authors
All Rights Reserved

First Job

Flesh in the fry grease
your whole hand
wrist and all
fifth-teen.
 
by Isabel Kestner of Hazlet

Doing it in Prose

"This tight ass wants me to keep it to 420 characters or less," Gina said, pursing her succulent lips into a tight "o". 
 
Johnny desisted ramming his head against the wall, "One of those modernist sons of bitches, I presume."
 
Gina raised her delicate white middle finger and touched the man’s name upon her screen, "His mama must have taken him off the titty too soon."
 
by Steven Gulvezan of Grosse Pointe Woods

Doing it in Prose (The Sequel)

Johnny jabbed a pencil into the big scab on his forehead, "He really accepted that thing you sent him, where you insulted him and his mother and all that?"
 
"You betcha," Gina replied, licking her lips, and then making a popping sound with her mouth. "His standards must really be low. And he’s probably some sort of sick weirdo creep. No wonder he doesn’t have his photo up on his site."
 
by Steven Gulvezan of Grosse Pointe Woods

Habitating With Women

my mess
was perfectly
organized
but now
it is clean
and I can't find
a damn thing.

by Matt E. Smith of Toronto

Love

your spoon
my guts
together forever
 
by Maxwell Baumbach of Elmhurst

Doing it in Prose (Gina’s New Crush)

Gina dug her finger into her belly button and then smelled it, "I can’t stop thinking about him."
 
"Who?" Johnny said, smiling as he slapped himself in the face--first one side, then the other.
 
"My editor--do you think he might be a serial killer?  Remember that guy, BTK, bacon, tomato, and...whatever...SFD, short, fast and deadly...it gives me the chills all up and down my spine...it’s just so exciting..."
 
by Steven Gulvezan of Grosse Pointe Woods

Doing it in Prose (A Letter from Gina)

"Ow!"  Johnny said, "That hurts!"
 
"Quit squirming, I must write a thank-you letter to my editor."
 
Gina dipped her finger into the open wound on Johnny’s forehead and wrote laboriously on the foolscap in Johnny’s blood. "How does this sound: ‘From Hell...’"
 
by Steven Gulvezan of Grosse Pointe Woods

Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town

She was the light and I was the tree growing in her image. When I found her she was dead for a week. The TV was still on. There is a point where you don’t know what to say anymore. Your mother says, "Go and have a chat with grandma." You sit next to her and make small talk. You wish you were home safe on the internet. When things get awkward, you can turn it off.

by Henry Vauban of Freiburg

Short, Fast, and Deadly
i50
Edited by Joseph A. W. Quintela
21 November 2010

Featuring:
Judy Shepps Battle
Peter Kispert
J. H. Martin
Edward J. Rathke
Danger Slater
AJ Pearson-VanderBroek
Robert Vaughan

Copyright © 2010 by Individual Authors
All Rights Reserved

Diamond Sky

Every Sunday she wonders about breaking her rearview mirror with her sneaker, something like shattered smiles or confetti, face fireworks. Like what happens when good people forget about themselves. She blasts her foot into the breaks, sonic stare southbound. Forearms tense, taut crowbar. Forgetting splintered silica, the morning mist that makes her pray with the windows wide, wide open.
 
by Peter Kispert of Hanover

Lost in the System

They had lost his papers and nobody listened and nobody cared. It was wrong. He walked back to the bus stop and sat down by an old man and rolled a smoke. He stared out at the shopping bags and brand new cars passing by.

"It's not right," he snarled, "It's all wrong."

The old man smiled.

"If you whisper, nobody will hear. If you shout, nobody will listen. It's best to keep quiet and watch your breath instead."
 
by J. H. Martin of Tongzi

First Frost

It's cold
 
but when I snuggle
with Clio under
blankets I smile
 
and sweat.
 
by Judy Shepps Battle of Kendall Park

Housework

I like to vacuum naked wearing only Keds high-tops. Windows wide open. It tipsy-turns mundane tasks into adventurous ticker-tape tulips. Beaming bright nipples stand at attention, saluting, ready for action.
 
by Robert Vaughan of Milwaukee

Blintzkrieg

They came at us with everything they had. Pancakes. Crepes. French toast. Waffles. In the trenches, knee-deep in the syrup, Marco fell. A sausage wound to the head. His brains scrambled and pink like ketchup and eggs. Who's going to tell his wife? His children? His mom? I close my eyes and think of home. If I survive this breakfast, I'll do things right. If I survive this breakfast, I'll be a good man.
 
by Danger Slater of Parsippany

The Portrait

He takes the perfect wood square and shatters the glass. He peels away laminate, tears away wrapping tissue then digs into another level of paint-speckled construction paper. Ripping into the next surface of incomplete images; pages, leaves, shredded, dissected. Smudged oil, faded ink. He reveals the last layer -- it’s not the one he remembers. In a broken frame rests the scratches and stains of a new memory.
 
by AJ Pearson-VanderBroek of Nebraska City

All Tomorrow's Parties

I touched her face and kissed her eyes, promised through her crackling cries that she'd never die. She asked me why and I asked her if she thought of suicide. Every day, she said, her eyes from grey to blue. I begged her to live. She laughed, cacophonous crescendo, and said, That's what tomorrows are for.
 
by Edward J. Rathke of St Paul, MN

Short, Fast, and Deadly
i49
"(Word) Art & Lies"
Edited by Joseph A. W. Quintela
14 November 2010
 
Featuring Poems and Prose by:
Leigh Anne Hornfeldt
C. Martinez
Jenny Rossi
Will Sharp

and Artwork by:
Mark & Michele Andrews
Shelby Davis
Prudence Groube
Johnna Talbot
Andrew Topel
Izzy Waxman

Copyright © 2010 by Individual Authors
All Rights Reserved

Watchlist

by Shelby Davis of Dayton

4'33"

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
by Will Sharp of San Antonio