February 16, 2020

“After Thucydides,” Poems by Bruce Robinson

“After Thucydides,” Poems by Bruce Robinson

After Thucydides   Read to you my silent poem,  how does it go? Goes  without saying, va    sans dire.  And then someone spoke  and there was the largest crowd    in history, and a luminous  array of tariffs  made us rich again    which after all was our  pre-existential condition  before the construction    of our glorious, seguro-  will-cover-it wall,  and we learned that    however true it may…be..  that truth is something   intermittent, which is how     some histories are written.  ** It’s Your Past Catching Up with You  and then your past   catches up with you, or tries to,  and then your past  tries to oscillate your future,   or makes a very good effort  to be closer than it appears  and then you’re past  all caring, all over-canvassed  tenses meet each other mid-stream,  toll…

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February 11, 2020

“Designer Baby,” by Joann Mead

“Designer Baby,” by Joann Mead

Designer Baby: Underlying Crimes  Chapter 1  My Mai    “You are mine. You are my Mai.” He chuckled. “Mai, Mai.” Repeating over and over, he laughed at his alliteration as he clapped his short, thick hands in time with his rhythmic chant.  “Only tonight. No rough stuff. Just what we agreed, Vlad. Promise?” For Mai Tran, this business has rules that must be followed. Her patrons were usually compliant. Most were lonely businessmen with too much money and time on their hands. Most had pedestrian tastes. But this client was not typical—more brutish and less refined than the Scandinavian men, and with none of the sophistication of western Europeans.   Mai keenly observed the differences in her clients. She was a quick study. This patron was decidedly coarse with his disheveled hair and beefy body. She comically thought the size of…

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February 9, 2020

“Surgeon General’s Warning,” by A. R. Farina

“Surgeon General’s Warning,” by A. R. Farina

When the warning first appeared, we were already addicts. It was total and complete saturation. I never knew anyone who wasn’t using although, I found out later, some people weren’t. The kids who were fed free lunch used. My parents used. Hell, they were worse than anyone I knew. All the parents were terrible. There was an old jokey Public Service Announcement that came from when my grandparents were young about a kid doing drugs because he learned it from watching his dad. I saw it a few times as a meme. “I learned it from watching you, Dad!” It would be funny if it weren’t so true. The morning the warning came down, I was in school. First-period classes had just begun when the smartboard turned on. Like every other morning, Jake, the admin…

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February 6, 2020

Brett Stout – Deep, Dark Paintings

Brett Stout – Deep, Dark Paintings

All images copyright, Brett Stout. *** Brett Stout is a 40-year-old artist and writer. He is a high school dropout and former construction worker turned college graduate and paramedic. He creates mostly controversial work usually while breathing toxic paint fumes from a small cramped apartment known as “The Nerd Lab” in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. His work has appeared in a vast range of diverse media, from international indie zines like Litro Magazine UK to Brown University. This is his first feature in The Fictional Café.

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February 4, 2020

“Insect People,” Flash Fiction by Rich Ives

“Insect People,” Flash Fiction by Rich Ives

The Thoughts I Live in Seem to Accept My Flight European Mining Bee  Dear Chomsky,  My colon’s gone semi. I thought telling you would explain my recent uncharacteristic lack of correspondence. Yesterday I tithed my toilet. Today I’m 90% certain I agree with what’s left. If you’d send me an opinion on breakfasting, I’d certainly think about it.  I’m still being serviced by two membranous wings, joined in flight by tiny hooks at my narrow waist. I have a saw-like ovipositor, long and slender like in parasitic wasps. I’m told that my egg was fertilized though the males’ aren’t. I’m a very social gal, and you can rely on me to spread the word about your genius. You probably get that all the time. What I mean is I’ll help explain why you’re right.  My pollen collection…

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