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Opinion
Superman’s no Woodward and Bernstein [14] S
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ories, If you like short st ners [6] in w s ’ r a e y is th e v you’ll lo
FILM ‘Waist Deep’ is waste of time [30]
Homeless artists sell their work [20] Get a dose of love at the Melodrama [23] Caffé Luna does more than coffee [37]
The short and New Times
American mininovels are back again
Our Ritual
M
y mother poured my usual bowl of frosted flakes, adding milk and a sliced banana. She placed my breakfast, with a glass of chocolate milk, at my seat at the kitchen table. Sitting adjacent, my mother turned on our morning TV show and waited for me to come down. Unfortunately, I passed away years ago. Kari Kolsrud Cedar Rapids, Iowa
Fancy Footwork
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rebel barricade stopped their tour bus in the mountains. The masked leader shot the driver who tried to radio; they let Amy keep her iPod. Hands-free, Steven dialed her father at the embassy. The leader brandished his machine gun. “ Teléfono? ” “ Música! ” Steven yelped, and kept dancing that crazy step until Mr. Wilcox answered.
!
The great
has a longstanding tradition of finding new and interesting writers. Writers who craft clever stories. Writers who get to the heart of their subject matter. Writers who are long on wit, but not on words. This year marks New Times’ 20th annual 55 Fiction contest. Throughout 2005 and 2006, we received entries from around the world—literally. Some were bizarre. Some were confusing. Some were unintelligible. Some were downright scary. But a few made us laugh or raise our eyebrows in surprise—and after reading page after page of attempts at surprise endings, that’s saying something. After weeks of poring over pages and counting,
R. S. Steinberg Cambridge, Mass.
Season of Love
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hey bumped into each other on a busy summer sidewalk. One was a woodworker, the other a soldier. Without speaking, they sensed an immediate connection to one another. But could they ever be eternal soul mates?
counting, counting, we narrowed the field down to a handful of the obvious contenders. These are stories that had a grain or two of that X factor, that je ne sais quoi that sets them apart from the rest of the pile. Here they are, presented for your reading pleasure. Disagree? Think you could do better? Well, put your pencil where your mouth is and dash off a submission to us for next year’s contest. Then, use this week’s issue as a fuse for your Fourth of July bottle rockets or something. We’re not forcing you to read it. Just one note: Be sure to follow all the rules. We had to disqualify some real gems this year because they clocked in at 56 words. —Editor Ryan Miller
The answer came suddenly when the last thing they felt was the bottom of the oblivious pedestrian’s shoe. Dennis Witkowski Santa Maria
The Truth of the Matter
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e all met in a bar one night. We drank. We talked. We laughed. Then Harold and I danced, as He sat and watched. He seemed so interested in me, watching my every move. We sat back down; He bought us a round of drinks. By morning, I realized it wasn’t me He was after. Ashley Kraemer Hartland, Wis.
Hungry Like a Wolf
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s he stepped through the door, the clock struck twelve. The change was setting in. A full moon tonight meant wreckage tomorrow, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. It’s a virus, a virus of life. Soon, John would get stronger, meaner, hungrier, and hairier. But puberty happens to everyone eventually. Kevin Bersch Pewaukee, Wis.
A View from the Hill
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om’s furious. Two hundred bucks for forehead stitches. I broke our bucket, too. “Be more like Jill. She’s careful and listens!” I hate my sister—the evil, little doppelganger. I’m glad her knees are scabby and she got mud on her dress. She’s never a mess, but she is today. The little witch pushed me. Scott Bohlender Claremont
In Defense of Ahabs
“T
here is no white whale,” the mate says. Huddled behind, crewmen nod. Waves rock the moonlit freighter. “Get the harpoons!” the captain says, pistol drawn. “What harpoons? It’s 2006. This is a freighter.” “Look!” the captain says. From the ocean blackness, a pale titan breaches, puffs mist, sinks. The mate says, “I’ll get the harpoons.” Collin Grabarek Fairfax, Va.
the short of it Where the Grass Grows Greener
“H
ello.” “Hi. Is this Rose Medvard?” “Yes?” “This is Gladys Greyborn, Howie Greyborn’s wife.” “Wife? I didn’t … ” “Howie committed suicide last night and left a note with your name on it.” “A note. To me?” “Would you like me to read it to you?” Harvey Kasser Mission Viejo
A Matter of Perspective
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he old matriarch left her home on the Nebraska plains for the first time. The girl greeted her at the Denver airport. Standing together, facing the Colorado Rockies, the girl said, “Aren’t they gorgeous?” The woman studied the mountains carefully. “They’re quite pretty, dear, but they sure do get in the way of the view.” Jennavieve Joshua Bellingham, Wash.
Her Mother’s Daughter
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ama, I took your advice and got rid of Billy. He never was good for me, like you said. I met a new man, Mama, and he’s a lawyer. Makes big money—I’m near broke. Don’t forget to bring two roses to the cemetery Sunday. Daddy’ll want his, and Billy, too. Lola Orange County Penitentiary Stephanie N. Kurtz Hartland, Wis.
Life Lesson with 12 Herbs and Spices
“Y
uck, Daddy,” young Nathan grimaced at the penguin movie he was watching. “That seal ate that penguin.” “That’s nature, son. Animals catch and eat other animals.” “I’m glad we never do that.” “Oh no. The Colonel does it for us.” “Huh?” Nathan replied. “Never mind,” sighed Dad. “Just eat your chicken and watch the movie.” Tim Studer Burnham, Ill.
A Meeting in the Woods
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ursuing his arrogant agenda, he announces, “Coming through!” Her recognizable, colorful response: “Please don’t touch me.” Disrespectfully imposing himself, entanglement occurs. Still, she is graceful: “I grow here. Go around.” Itching with frustration: “You bitch! You are immensely irritating!” Poison oak: “If politely declaring my boundaries is being a bitch to you, so be it.” Michele Oksen Morris Cambria
All in the Family
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fter the day was through, I was feeling blue. Wasn’t sure how it was going to turn out. Throughout tryouts, I thought I shot well. I rarely missed. But today was it, whether I was in or out. As I thought about my future, I got nervous. “Joe.” “Yeah?” I answered. “Welcome to the mob.” Mike Johnsen Hauppauge, N.Y.
Parental Chat
“O
ur daughter sleeps around,” she said. “The garage roof leaks,” he said. “I read her diary. She does drugs. She sleeps around.” “How can I afford a new roof?” “She might have AIDS. She sleeps around.” “A new roof—that will cost at least $1,500!” “A damn she new sleeps roof around,” they said. Dan Campbell Falls Church, Va.
Merry Christmas
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e’d called for months. This time, he screamed, “I’m gonna kill you for leaving me!” She was alone. He was coming. She locked the windows and barred the doors. The police would be too late. She lit the fireplace. Waited. Shivered. No one came. Finally, sirens arrived. They found Nick. He was in the chimney. Anne Gentilucci Los Osos 55 FICTION continued next page
Spotlight on Morro Bay
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ne author in particular received high marks from everyone who sorted through the hundreds upon hundreds of entries. R. K. Meier of Morro Bay submitted several short stories, and we thought that they were too good—or weird—to keep to ourselves.
Canis Diabolus
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avid made a deal with the Devil. He hadn’t meant to do it: If the Devil had come to David looking like the Devil should, David might have resisted. But when the Devil appeared, he manifested as a Boston terrier wearing a mauve top hat. And who could resist a dog in a silly hat?
The Favor
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race’s price was $250; she rarely made exceptions. But for Stephen, $170 would do, as it was all he had, and since it was his first time, and because he asked so sweetly. Stephen thanked her, and handed Grace the sweaty bills. She counted them, thinking money is money. But to Stephen, it meant everything.
Dark Days in Derwinshire
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ody foretold that a great plague would be visited upon Derwinshire. We scoffed at his prophecy. Who was Jody Plunkett but some myopic punk in secondhand clothes? When we awoke one Monday to find sour Bing cherries falling from the sky like rain, we weren’t laughing. We ran that kid right out of town. ∆