A Short Paws

Dog Versus Sandwich will take a short break this week.

Now I know what you’re thinking: “You forgot there were five Mondays in June, didn’t you, Ben?”

Ahh haha! Ludicrous!

Hang your cynical head in shame!

No, this week we take a break to reflect. It’s been a remarkable six month journey thus far. I’m sure we all have our memories. The story with the thing in it. The one about that guy. The Epic sonnets. The one starring Charles Bud Tingwell.

Good times.

At this juncture I’d invite you, gentle readership, to contribute your thoughts. Which have been your favourite stories of the first six months? Remember your feedback will shape the future of the zine, rendering me *not responsible* for any future dislikes you have, so choose well!! I may even let the more popular authors out of my coal shed…

The floor is yours*!

 

(*the floor is not literally yours. It belongs to my landlord. But go ahead and speak if you like)

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Story: Happyfacing… by Patricia Russo

Good morning. This particular story was won from the author in a game of Eye Spy off the coast of Bolivia. Let’s just say the author failed to spot my grandmother with her thieving toes…

happyfacing 

 

  

Happyfacing

by Patricia Russo

 

 

 

That Saturday she was afraid to leave the apartment, since she’d been pissing spiders. There was an omen for you, if you believed in omens. She did not, but still. Streams of pinkie-nail-sized buggers, eggshell and dove-gray, racing around and around the bowl. A person could be excused for thinking that might mean something. Besides, the last time she’d ventured outside, there’d been so many blue eyes. Face after face, set with sparkling blue eyes and china-white teeth. Gave her the willies.

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Story: Jim-Bob Fleasy, Professional Escort… by Sarah Totton

Are beans a type of pea, or are peas a type of bean? This is the question I think tonight’s story asks, if obliquely. It’s up to you to find your own answer.

 jim-bob-fleasy

   

   

 

Jim-Bob Fleasy, Professional Escort

 Sarah Totton

 

 

 Picture this: You’re standing outside a nice restaurant next to the beautiful girl you’ve just bought dinner for. Unfortunately, you’re not so much dwelling on what a lucky man you are as wondering when your best friend and your date are going to stop groping each other and get up off the grass so you can split the cab fare home.

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Story: Finding the Prince of Hearts by Aaron Benson

This week’s tale is brought to you by the small wooden coaster on my coffee table… it believes in you, and it offers you its wisdom.

finding-the-prince-of-hearts

 

 

Finding the Prince of Hearts

Aaron Benson

 

 

 

When they called Harry the Prince of Hearts they didn’t mean it literally. Instead they meant that he slept around. Unfortunately for Harry, when they called Lizzie the sort of woman who could make someone lose their way, they meant it quite literally.

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pdf link

The pdf link for that last story should be fixed now, for anyone who had trouble with it…

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Story: Glass Dancing… by Mari Ness

It was on the day that everyone on tv started barking like dogs that I knew that my pony was never coming home. First I blamed myself, then I blamed you, then I blamed the pony. And finally I bought a metal stick and blamed it. The nights were cold that winter but my metal stick warmed my heart….

Glass Dancing

 

 

Glass Dancing

Mari Ness

 

 

 

The glass slipper shattered as she stepped into it, cutting her feet.

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