Commercials, They're Grrrrreat!
by Harry B. Sanderford
I was watching the tube recently and when I watch TV I like to watch the hell out of it, the remote is key to my viewing pleasure. I don't watch commercials as a rule, this is ordinarily my prompt to move along so it is mildly ironic when my interest is caught by one of those deals where the whole point of the show is to count down a list of TV's most memorable commercials. It's just pompous indulgence on my part really…
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Added by Harry on January 31, 2009 at 11:03pm —
17 Comments
The great body of the King had stopped wheezing, replaced by that almost silent breathing that precedes the final act. The physicians had moved back from Henry's tormented flesh, there was little they could do for the suppurating boils, the gout ridden joints and the sad realization in his eyes that an ending was near. The King managed to turn his head to stare glassily out of the window at the cold grey January sky, his face expressionless, the once mighty aura of the towering monarch long…
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Added by Bob Clay on January 31, 2009 at 10:52pm —
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Mommys real sick.
Before Daddy went away to the war he told me to be an angel when Mommy needed my help.
Well Mommy needs my help now.
I asked my teacher what an angel was, she told me when people died they became angels.
I saw on TV last night where this really old lady fell down in front of a train and she was made died right away.
I'm waiting for the train now, I wonder if angels get to watch TV.
Added by Daniel on January 31, 2009 at 8:54pm —
9 Comments
I have a little magazine.
I started it last year with couple friends of mine in Manchester. They are brilliant and attractive men. I have a beard. We got MJ Hyland to help us out, we even got Irvine Welsh and Zadie Smith. We got great stories, great pictures and great wiffleballs of miscellaneous joy. Things were going well until our year at Uni ended. Now we have to work like suckers and spend our mornings awake instead of asleep. There is less time for our little zine and possibly less…
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Added by Jason Lee Norman on January 31, 2009 at 4:34pm —
5 Comments
The light was red, then green. The Toyota Corolla moved slowly toward the intersection. A flash of white invades her peripheral vision; reflexes take over. Brakes squall, tension mounts, crunching sounds fill the early afternoon.
Realization dawns, east was the intended destination, but the Corolla was now facing the opposite direction. I take a self inventory, I’m okay; thank God.
Added by Tammy on January 31, 2009 at 4:30pm —
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Clarence invited me over to his place in the city. It was a fantastic historical building that he invested a great deal of time and money on. I was completely fascinated with the architecture and accoutrement he’d amassed from his world travels and years of collecting with an eye for history and detail that only the cosmopolitan connoisseur nerd would have in his cache. I really appreciated his tour until it occurred to me that he had art from Idi Amin’s home, a sword from Cortez, and the…
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Added by Olive Rosehips on January 31, 2009 at 4:06pm —
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Beaver Creek always ran fast, gurgling, splashing over large, colorful, gold speckled quartz rocks embedded ages ago and revealed by constant erosion. Beneath the rocks, deep pools of clear black water held bream, catfish and crayfish. Seeing the occasional cottonmouth sunning on the red clay banks caused my brothers and sisters to emit high pitched adrenalinized screams while running at lightning speed two feet above the pine needled carpet in the woods homeward bound. Fast forward forty years…
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Added by Uncleshag on January 31, 2009 at 4:00pm —
13 Comments

"David, I don't remember that bench being here in the narthex before--do you?" "Before what, Alice... the Vietnam War? it's been here forever... what are you asking me?"
"You don't have to raise your voice like that; I simply think that it's odd."
"What's
odd, Alice--that the loveseat is
odd looking... that it's in an
odd place... or that someone had the audacity to move an
odd fucking piece of furniture in this…
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Added by Dude A Bydes on January 31, 2009 at 2:30pm —
3 Comments

Somewhere up there - in that great beyond - I hope that Chuck Buk isn't laughing. While I would in no way fancy myself a poet, I will say that the form itself is a wonderful way to tell a short story. That said, I give you all this prose poem about what may have gone down behind the curtain inside one of those dinky boardwalk booths that belong to a storefront psychic. I dunno. Maybe I'm listening to too much Springsteen (it IS Super Bowl… Continue
Added by Anthony Venutolo on January 31, 2009 at 2:30pm —
17 Comments
Ghost
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, at the ghost of what use to be. A soulful being no longer innocent to death but one that lived through dying.
To defy the grim reaper of his prize is surely to be met with consequences. As long as I keep having yesterdays, the tomorrows are promised.
Time wasted on what ifs, spend like throwing away yesterdays. However many yesterdays I have left I plan on living, not as just a ghostly reflection in a mirror,…
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Added by Tammy on January 31, 2009 at 11:30am —
6 Comments
Does this man with a hearing problem excuse himself when he bumps into a terrorist? No, I instead demand the terrorist apologize, to which the bearded man with the knapsack with wires peeking out from it, replies, "I should apologize, me? a terrorist!"
Says the old man. "A therapist? You bumped into me, remember?"
By now the exasperated terrorist screams, "I am not a therapist, but a terrorist who kills infidels!" which starts this old man laughing. "I figured that," I…
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Added by Salvatore Buttaci on January 31, 2009 at 11:13am —
3 Comments
It was a long time ago during the days in Brooklyn when I shined shoes in bars in order to make extra money to buy grapes by the pound or strawberry malteds or a pair of boxing gloves, life’s luxuries my parents could not afford.
My father believed that nobody ever died from hard work; he was a man who, though an immigrant of the early 20th Century, shared the same ethics of America’s Founding Fathers and even looked a little like I’d imagine Thomas Jefferson looked if Tom had a…
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Added by Salvatore Buttaci on January 31, 2009 at 10:57am —
4 Comments
I saw him again today. At first I thought it just looked like my dead father from the back, the way his salt-and-pepper hair curled at his neckline, the strut of his walk in the rush-hour pedestrian traffic, the swing of his arms he always attributed to his high level of self-confidence.
This time I kept up the pace, almost pushing aside the suits and dresses anxious to reach subway cellars and zoom home to where they could kick off the workday blues, relax, share the company of…
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Added by Salvatore Buttaci on January 31, 2009 at 10:39am —
14 Comments
You’d think with its potential to make folks cringe in disgusting fear, the cockroach would have a phobia named after it instead of being corralled into the general term for “fear of insects”––"entomophobia," like perhaps “gaggophobia,” “retchaphobia,” or even the obvious “cockroachaphobia.”
I have a very pronounced fear of those brown hardback insects with their penchant for night life, swaying their long black antennae erect as though if they were to touch me, I would be zapped…
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Added by Salvatore Buttaci on January 31, 2009 at 10:24am —
11 Comments
He did not shrug. He watched their rockets ascend, laughed when they sent a monkey first, and gaped when they touched down on the moon. When the first man played golf on the moon, he dropped the sky. It fell with a thud none heard and everyone has been feeling ever since. It is not the weight of the world, but the weight of literally everything else. Retired, Atlas now teaches putting on Pluto with his wife and two hundred-handed sons.
Added by John Wiswell on January 31, 2009 at 7:34am —
6 Comments
We got married on Valentine's Day, so you could "remember our anniversary".
You used to drive me crazy, now you just make me that way.
I used to see pulsing, swirling shades of lavendar and periwinkle when we kissed; no color comes to grace my third eye now.
You used to pull me across the sheets and render me helpless in your embrace, now you only pull the sheet.
I used to have a dream, 'tis now a mere…
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Added by Sister Two Moons on January 31, 2009 at 7:25am —
4 Comments
I tried to sneak up on *Kate*.
Actually, I was looking for the sockets in her back that hold *her* wings in position, since I am confident that *she* is, at least, part *angel* ( that is why all these *stars" hang around *her*).
In my mind. I see *her* reading, pondering, rolling our words around on her tongue, digesting what is good, and discretely spitting out in her napkin the words that aren't so tasty.
*Kate*, akin to the guardian angel we are all promised…
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Added by Sister Two Moons on January 31, 2009 at 6:58am —
8 Comments
His mother had said ‘no’ when he was 18. He was responsible, committed and totally in love. If they had been granted permission they’d be parents of a boy now. She was only 15 at the time and a youthful lust had taken them to forbidden places and the ordeal of getting rid of it nearly cost them, her life.
He loved her more because he nearly lost her and vowed to wait till he no longer needed consent. It was 1945 and there was no money for a white gown, not for this dedicated pair; him in…
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Added by Kez on January 31, 2009 at 5:28am —
2 Comments
The man had been treading water in the middle of the ocean for quite some time, praying fervently “Oh God, I’m drowning - please save me!” when a life ring apeared on the horizon but the man ignored it and continued praying.
A while later a sunburn man in a raft drifted his way and called out “Can it be? another survivor? Swim over here man – there’s room for one more in this raft!” and the man in the water called out in return “No - thank you though - God will provide for me!” and…
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Added by Chris Campbell on January 31, 2009 at 12:30am —
6 Comments
My dog died today. Inside a dozen years, I watched her grow from fumbling, shoe wrecking, helpless neophyte to an old, gray, limping, blind, deaf, helpless senior. She brought joy, anger, laughs, exasperation, exhilaration, and finally tears. The circle of life is amazing to watch, yet cruel to experience. We will never be the same, but for that I am grateful. Rest in peace, Lucy.
Added by Allie on January 30, 2009 at 11:26pm —
8 Comments