Posts Tagged ‘Beer’
Mar
Breaking The Rules
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I before E except after C, unless I’m seeing too much ceiling from under my eiderdown. I turn my eyes in disbelief to my neighbor Keith, who at this moment is receiving eight heifers of various heights and weight. Having been neither seized in some heist nor had any profits forfeited, they are feisty beasts. A brawn of weightlifters, beings made of veiled skeins of protein, caffeine and bulging veins, takes them away, no receipts involved. Afterward, the men reign over steins of beer at their leisure. Weird that it should be so hard to relieve the stress of thievery.
From Guest Contributor Cheryl Snell
Oct
Caught
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The car is in park, with the air-conditioner cranked. I finish my ice-cold soda, and would like another, but I’m not leaving this spot. It’s broad daylight and people are walking to work or taking their kids to school. I can’t wait until this is over so I can go home and get some much-needed sleep. A cold beer and cool shower will do nicely too.
She exits the apartment wrapped in his arms passionately kissing. I snap the photos with my cell phone and text the pictures to her husband. I put the car in drive.
My payment awaits.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Apr
Recovery
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Hi darling,” the young man giggled, noticing a pretty woman leaning towards him. “Which one are you?”
The woman left in disgust. Two men cloaked in white entered.
“Nasty blow to your head,” one confirmed in a heavy accent following something vocalized by the other. “You remember anything?”
“Molly’s. I left Molly’s. Might’ve been O’Hara’s,” the patient prattled. “Didn’t see Molly.”
The two towering over his bed exchanged words.
“When can I leave?” the patient interjected. “Molly is waiting for me. Best beer on the house.”
“You’re in Spain, recovering from an all-nighter at an Irish Pub,” explained the doctor.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction regardless of the season, although she prefers spring.
Jan
Any Other Year
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It’s “New Year’s Eve”, and Nick sits in front of the television gulping beer waiting for the ball to drop. His dog Gatsby rests his head on Nick’s lap seeking attention.
“Okay,” Nick says and rubs Gatsby’s head. “How’s that feel?” Gatsby contentedly wags his tail.
His neighbors are causing a raucous across the hall, laughing and playing loud music which fills the hallway, but the property owner doesn’t care since he’s there too. Nick, a loner, considers his science teaching job and Gatsby his friends.
The ball drops and Nick’s year will be the same as any other year.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Nov
In A Bar, Near The Sea
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“No harm done”, I replied, but inside I was fuming.
My new shirt! Bought it at Ray’s Boutique and it wasn’t even on sale. I desperately wanted to impress the brunette and now look at it…
The man spilled some beer on it, looked at me and apologized.
I decided to leave it. The guy probably didn’t do it on purpose. After all, I was here to have a drink with some friends and not to get into an ordinary bar fight.
Of course, the fact I knew he was a former heavy weight world champion did help a bit.
From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys
Hervé Suys (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing disturbing fiction whilst recovering from a sports injury. He writes them mostly hatless and barefooted.
Feb
Host
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I have chips and salsa ready for when the family arrives for Super Bowl Sunday.
The last time I hosted, I ran out of snacks and had to drive to the convenience store to stock up. I missed the most important play of the game and it’s not the same watching it on DVR.
They’re coming up the driveway.
I go to get the beer and my refrigerator sticks. I have to yank it and all the beer bottles fall, break, and spill on the floor.
Looks like I’ll be heading to the store and watching the game on DVR.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Dec
Brad
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Brad is splayed out on his couch watching the Seahawks. He is surrounded by snacks and beer. He had played football in college but had never made The League, a great disappointment. Suddenly Brad felt very sleepy. He put down his beer and closed his eyes. “I will rest for a few minutes,” he sighed.
In the next moment, Brad is running down the field in a large, noisy stadium. People in the stands are cheering him on. Brad has never felt so exhilarated.
Brad’s wife comes into the room, screams, and dials 911. Brad has achieved his wildest dream.
From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius
Feb
Bottles Of Love
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Nick is aroused by the clinking of bottles in the fridge. Mother’s having another drink.
That old clink, so familiar. It’s a constant sound since Dad took off, piercing Nick’s twelve-year old ears.
Cue Mother’s laughter, cackling. Cracked.
He can’t tell Mother what it means to see tenderness replaced by laughter. Rage. Bills go unpaid, furniture disappears. But night after night, bottles take over. Wine, vodka. Beer.
One night, Nick sneaks downstairs, removes each bottle with methodical coldness. Hurls each one at the floor.
He shatters again and again, surveys the ruins.
Tomorrow, more will appear. He’ll do it again.
From Guest Contributor Yash Seyedbagheri
Yash is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. His story, “Soon,” was nominated for a Pushcart. Yash’s stories are forthcoming or have been published in Café Lit, Mad Swirl, 50 Word Stories, and Ariel Chart, among others.
Dec
Mother
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I try on names for mythical mother. Mother. Mama. Mom. They hold their own weight. Mother, formal, yet beautiful. Mama, the moon, wistful and luminous. Mom is too plain.
Daddy tells me to stop with the mother stuff. Focus on what I have. He stayed to keep me safe.
But he never loves. Never smiles.
I conjure images. From ten years ago. Maybe they’re dreams. A silhouette. A lavender dress, a temper. Perfume. Words of love, fleeting.
Dad’s all beards and beer. Orders, no words of love.
Love doesn’t pay bills.
I keep trying on names, wishing. I can’t stop.
From Guest Contributor Yash Seyedbagheri
Yash is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. A recipient of two Honorable Mentions from Glimmer Train, he has had work nominated for a Pushcart Award and The Best Small Fictions. Yash’s work is forthcoming or has been published in journals such as Unstamatic, Door Is A Jar Magazine, Maudlin House, and Ariel Chart.
Oct
Gravity
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A panhandler with the woeful face of a Christian martyr in a medieval painting stops me outside the discount liquor store. He says he needs two more bucks to get a bottle. Marlene, he adds as if I know her, is resting with a beer and the dude that shot her whose nickname is Rabbit. Has anyone asked us how we see things? No! We’re all on the road. But now it’s really getting fun. I dig some change out of my pocket. There are only so many opportunities to take maximum advantage of gravity’s pull on people and objects.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good