Archives for August 2015

For the fifth time that morning the little cat pushed her head repeatedly against the old man’s hand in a vain attempt at coaxing it into life. For ten years the lazy tuxedo had wanted for nothing. She had been doted upon to the point of obsession. Her bed had four posts, dinner was always catch of the day… and her ears were the subject of endless poggling. Leaping up onto George’s sallow chest, Tiddles nuzzled tenderly against his cold face and gave it a lick. “Hmmmmm,” she mused with a purr, “I think I’ll start with the face meat.” First published on Searchlight Magazine Arts... … [Read more...]

If only he’d stuck to gluing pound coins to the floor. But no, he had to go further, and Manchester Printworks on Sunday morning was perfect for it. Placing a small baggy of washing powder on the ground, he stepped back and waited. “Excuse me son,” said the bemused policeman, “are those your drugs?” When all you’ve got is a childishly idiotic excuse, it turns out that walking around with 20 bags of white powder gets you into quite a bit of trouble. It’s also why everyone on the wing greets James with a daily, infuriating catcall of, “Alright Daz!” First published on Searchlight Magazine Arts... … [Read more...]

“I won’t have a pint,” said Graham moodily at the bar in the pub they always went to. “I’ll have a large water.” This was not what Simon had hoped for, even though drinking beer with Graham could be difficult and this option was cheaper. “I’m having a pint,” he tried hopefully, but Graham didn’t respond. Holding their drinks they moved down the thin, dark space, to the back. The place was empty but their usual table wasn’t, so they shifted the mess next door. Cricket was blasting from the big screen. After a minute Simon said, “I’ve been fired.” First published on Searchlight Magazine Arts... … [Read more...]