Prose

The calendar confirmed it was Friday, and in small print next to the number were the words “Arbor Day”. He drew back just a bit at the realization. Arbor Day already? How had he forgotten?

“Second,” Roger said, raising a second finger, “there’d better be more to this than ‘I saw a kitty that looked like a _different_ kitty that I loved very very much despite the obvious world-ending danger…’”

Today was Arbor Day, and Noble Redavich was very late. It was the kind of lateness that couldn’t be politely ignored or waved away with a simple “no worries, grab some coffee and let me get you up to speed.” This was lateness that required long explanations, back and forth volleys of excuses and rebuttals, clarifications and even borderline accusations of laziness and lack of dedication. This was lateness that might just make it into an employee review or get brought up during termination proceedings, somewhere after the “we regret to inform you” but around the beginning of the litany of answers to “but why?” He had a good reason. The key was going to be pushing past the initial incredulity and disappointment to even have the opportunity…

Once upon a time, there was a young girl, who lived with her Dada, her Mumma, and their two cats.

Fred Skeller has time traveled to his local shopping mall in the 80s, he’s about to drink the first Slush Puppie he’s had since he was a teenager…and all his cash is counterfeit because it hasn’t technically been printed yet. His dream is slipping through his fingers like so much slush…

Fred Skeller looked around in wonder at the sudden transformation of his childhood shopping mall from a near-abandoned hollow shell back into the hustling, bustling, peanut-and-cigarette-scented galleria of his youth. An idea was rapidly forming...

“Get rid of it all,” said the owner of the house. “Every last tree and root and rock. No stone unturned, and I mean it!”