Archive for March, 2008

This story reminds me of something I don’t remember having forgotten… I can’t recall precisely what, but I think you’ll agree that it captures the moment.




That Kind of Day

Bruce Holland Rogers


He had run out of gas. That was the kind of day he was having. He had gone into the church to see if he could use their phone or at least get directions to the nearest gas station. But when he explained his problem to the woman in the church office, she said, “Two-eighty a gallon.” (more…)


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This week’s sandwich is a tale of woe and weariness from the cityscapes of Northerland.

Oh, wait.


It’s a poem. (more…)

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Con delay

Just a quick note to reassure concerned passengers: due to me being out of time, next week’s story will appear a couple of days later than usual.

Set your watches to stun!

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It’s true that I am susceptible to things that don’t normally talk talking; already in DVS we have had a talking cloud, and a magical talking stork. This story contains many talking things. And that is as it should be.



The Door was Framed

Katy Wimhurst


There are many things a woman is prepared for in life, but being assaulted by The Smiths’ CD Meat is Murder is not one of them. When Tania arrived home from work, her mind, quite sensibly, was more concerned with supper than with a potentially psychotic inanimate object. (more…)

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This story was discovered by Tintin in an opium den in a miscellaneous country. It was smuggled out inside an elderly bearded man’s pipe. After many ill-fated adventures it ended up here, at “the sandwich”.

 I hope it brings you joy and the world peace and fragrance.



Blue Hands

Jason Fischer


I got these blue hands. Can’t help that.  They’re not actually blue, mind you.  That’s just what I call them. (more…)

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Welcome to March, a month I designed specifically for housing the next five pieces. Fortunately it has also proved useful as a way of measuring time. Awesome!

Now here’s a story:




Jason Jordan

I’m on my way to take a shower when I realize that the light’s on in the bathroom, and the door’s cracked.  This is weird because: A) I don’t leave lights on when I exit a room, and B) I either leave doors wide open or closed.  No in betweens.  So, with my towel around my waist as my only cover-up, I inch toward the bathroom. I hear what sounds like the faucet running, but it’s different, as if a bunch of guys are pissing all at once.  (more…)

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