Archive for August, 2008


Also, it should be noted that the Dog and Foodstuff will be taking a short break next week, while I train a baby sealion to do my job and occasionally bring me stuffed olives and cheesy pasta.

We will return on the eighth of September. With bells on! (1)


(1) There will be no bells.


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The majesty of the pig is something much overlooked in modern literature. Dog, sandwiches, monkeys, all these “fashionable” creatures are prefered by the “literatte” but the real art lies in communication with the pig-soul. Discuss with reference to chapter seven. 





A Pig Cannot Look Up

Greggory Moore


A pig cannot look up, she said. (more…)

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Hearty greetings Dog watchers. This week’s tale was discovered in the bottom of a waterlogged canoe on the upper reaches of the Zanzibar river in North Reading. I can only assume it had some kind of religious significance.




The Solution to the Problem

 Jonathan Pinnock



On the second day of the conference, one of the Elders, old and wizened, began by outlining the extent of the problem: “If we continue polluting the world’s atmosphere at the same rate as at present, it will be effectively unbreathable within fifty years.” He paused, as a shudder ran around the audience. Half a century was a mere blip in the lifespan of most of them. “So something has to be done,” he continued, “Somehow, everyone in the whole world has got to find a way of cutting down.” (more…)

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Isn’t it a lovely day?





The Program

Julie Andrijeski



The guy couldn’t possibly be hitting on me.


I was barely standing. The paper coffee cup in my hand was uncomfortably hot, but I didn’t stop clenching it. I watched the man stare. His grayish-long hair hung in ragged, uneven curtains around a narrow, canine-like face. He didn’t look old. His eyes had that red-rimmed look that came of too much coffee with sugar and maybe a bag of mostly chemical cheese-flavored snacks in front of hotel pay-per-view instead of plates filled with anything roughly resembling food. His suit looked like he’d slept in it, curled up in a plastic seat at the airport terminal, or maybe a bus station, but one of the nicer ones. (more…)

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This week’s story fell out of my stapler, just as I was trying to dislodge a particularly awkward staple. I don’t know how long it had been there. But I know that stationery always brings joy.




Lily’s Song

Lyn Battersby





The place was packed. Punters jammed themselves into tight groups around the bar and tables, calling out orders and tossing down their week’s wages. Sheldon cruised among them, nodding to the regulars, touching base with the staff. This was Sheldon’s place. Everybody knew Sheldon.


The lights dimmed. Sheldon signalled for a scotch and moved toward the stage. (more…)

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