Short, Fast, and Deadly

Short, Fast, and Deadly
Issue Five
"Death Takes a Holiday"
Edited by Joseph A. W. Quintela
10 January 2010

Featuring:
Greta Bolger
Alex Cigale
Alan Gann
Bruce Harris
Ken Pobo
Molly E. Rydzel
Jake Sibley

Copyright © 2010 by Individual Authors
All Rights Reserved

Murder in the Pullman Car!

It’s Sunday. The old guy sitting next to me on the 3:59pm out of New York hands me an old pulp, Sharp Detective magazine. "Murder in the Pullman Car!" screams the headline. Below, a blond, blood everywhere, spilling from the knife wound in her chest. "I wrote it," he says. I glance at the cover and back to the old man, just in time to stop the knife. Another inch and the old coot would’ve had another literary payday.

by Bruce Harris of Scotch Plains

Pink Satin

On Halloween, my brother, a California Raisin, chugged a pint of rum, staggered to the bonfire, went up in a burst of orange, and suddenly sober, stopped, dropped and rolled, suffering only scorch and stink of wizened polyester, so I began to dance, nearer and nearer the fire in my princess gown, pink satin, a girl's coffin lining, and when it caught, flames swirled and sparked like fireworks, like the grand finale.

by Greta Bolger of Benzonia

Ascension

A blade of sun severs
a barn’s gloom, calling flecks
of hay dust to rise like angels,
leaving death among the spider webs
and owl feathers.

by Jake Sibley of San Diego

Meeting with Lady Lazarus

You aren’t angry anymore. You’re hungry. You peel an orange and watch a cloud pull into a depot. Sylvia waves from the third window of the third car. You don’t wave back, not because you’re peeved, but because you smell your fingers. Groves. White blossoms.

by Ken Pobo of Media

The Inspired Madness of Werner Herzog

He set his shirt afire with cigar
and was saved by pitcher of lemonade
I've something amusing to tell you
he called to say I was shot today

by Alex Cigale of New York City

Resuscitation

My heart stops, startled by hangover, day after Mardi Gras dawn, as if beating were trite luxury, like beer forty days forfeit. On Halloween I open my door to goblins, witches & you, a mad-doc who diagnoses fast, plunges scalpel into chest, extracts a withered mass & lazy valves. Squeeze, release & squeeze again until pale memories fire. Crude stitches, leaky veins, shallow breath & somebody to tell if & when I die.

by Alan Gann of Plano

Jesus is the Orignal Zombie

They say gay marriage killed the dinosaurs. But I happen to know that Zombie-Stalin is breeding them in Siberia. Where they mine Coal for Communists (much like Jews for Jesus).

The coal consuming commies crunch fetus flakes for breakfast. Packed with nutrition. Good for complexion. And commie dinosaurs will eradicate marriage (a bourgeoisie institution).

Those who oppose (capitalists) end up victims on Law & Order.

By Molly Elizabeth Rydzel of Los Angeles