A thoughtful piece for you today, readers. David Solórzano comes to us from Boston and his MOO-G is a darkly comic way to start your Saturday morning.
Back when I lived on Lilley Ave there was a homeless guy who slept in the alley between our building and Vic’s pastries. He wore an old Bruins jersey, number 35, that must have originally been black, but had faded over the years to a dirty, depressing gray. Me and my roommates started calling him Moog, after the name on the back of the jersey, but since none of us knew anything about hockey we pronounced it like a cow sound with a G on the end.
Thanks to complex.com for the photo.
Our story this morning, by Indiana-based writer Brittany Terwilliger, will resonate with the dating crowd… and anybody who’s ever been disillusioned with the dating crowd! Check out The Maybe Game…
The buzz of his snore breaks through my early morning sleep. I look up as if from a tomb, calculating moves that will change nothing. Most mornings, if I close my eyes again I can fall back to sleep. But never when Sebastian stays over. Dust motes float through shafts of light above us, tiny swirling universes with faraway cares. I wish he wasn’t here. But that’s not true, is it. No, the truth is I wish he was always here. Which isn’t that different, when you think about it. I might never see him again and the thought of that makes me want him and despise him at the same time.
Thank you to http://foodiereflections.com for the photo credit.
An Angel Within is a reflective story from NPL contributor Anne Leigh Parrish, a Seattle-based writer. Adversity is the true test of character! Enjoy…
Deep in the heart of a dirty, windy city stood a tired wooden house; and inside the house lived a woman with busy hands; and inside the woman live an angel. The angel sat on the head of a pin. Her balance was poor, and she tended to teeter this way and that.
We’ve got a zinger for you this morning folks, Alan Swyer takes us behind the scenes in the glamorous, duplicitous world of Stage Magicians! Not all is as it seems in Magic.
Brought in as a consultant because of his experience unmasking charlatans and debunking cons, the man known to the world as Roger the Remarkable – and to his friends simply as Roger Barnes – came up with rules and guidelines that were swiftly adopted by scores of corporations, then embraced by law enforcement agencies far and wide.
A compilation of old adages: If something seems too good to be true, it probably is; pearls of wisdom: When given a specific name at a company as a reference, check instead with someone else in that person’s department; and fresh takes: Cynicism is man’s foremost line of defense; it listed ten key points for fiscal survival. The most important? Haste not only makes waste, it also breeds disaster!
Today’s Saturday Story is by NPL author ‘Fishspit’ and will take you into the simple, yet somewhat benighted heart of a music fan. Talkin’ Muhlenberg County Blues.
OK! OK! I got a story! I’ve been fishing for one a long time. I’m gonna tell it to you all. But wait . . . but wait! It’s two stories in one actually . . . oh hell . . . I’ve already started rambling . . . and I ain’t hardly started yet! Don’t give up on me. I know! Oh reader . . . I know you have to put up with this concerning me all the time. No . . . just . . . well, quit hollering at me! I . . . OK . . . you set? It starts “now” . . . but I’m going to have to be going back and forth. Aaron was there . . . an old pal of mine . . . and he had a little cutie with him. Some little chick chick. Aaron started playing his guitar for us . . . a Townes Van Zandt song he know I like.
When he had finished it we talked a little about Townes, and then the little cutie spoke up and asked, “Have you ever heard of John Prine?” I whipped around and looked at where she was sitting on this rock.
It’s a frosty morning in the Midwest readers, so what better time to bring you this thoughtful story from Denmark? Our contributor today, Anthony Kane Evans, is a writer and documentary film maker based out of Copenhagen.
The Cigarette Girl is a modern tale about two cultures colliding– colliding with disastrous consequences.
Jesus had a Buick. God only knows where he’d picked it up from. I mean, those things are museum pieces, you only see them moving in old black and whites. Colin said I should check it out.
“It’s the most beautiful car I’ve ever seen,” he said.
I got ready to go over on the Saturday morning.
Happy St. Nick’s Feast Day, New Pop Lit’ers! You made it!
This week our Saturday Story happens to fall on a joyous day in Central Europe: all the good kids who weren’t eaten by Krampus last night get extra special treats!
In the spirit of the day, NPL presents survivors with this wicked story by Chicago writer Tom Mundt, titled Placeholders. Enjoy!
This is about the time my skull got whaled upon by an anonymous assailant who will likely remain an enigmatic shadow until end times or the completion of the Chicago Police Department’s battery investigation, whichever comes first.
Good morning, readers! Our treat for this week will tickle your ‘awkward bone’. Check out this delightful little gem by author Alex Bernstein, titled Mrs. Harris.
Mrs. Harris? It’s Albert Levy again. Are you there? Okay. Okay. I’m trying to be polite and civil and responsible, here, but I’ve sort-of had it with this. As you know – and as I’ve mentioned several times – we appear to have very similar phone numbers; like just a digit off or something. And you’ve given out my phone number instead of yours to all of your clients or case files or whatever you call them.
Happy Weekend, NPL’ers!
Today’s feature is Donnie Darko… a story for cat-loving students of life by Kathleen Crane. ‘Donnie Darko’ is part of Kathleen’s upcoming short story collection titled Aloha From Detroit… more detail on that to come. In the meantime, enjoy Donnie!
If he could only find a comfortable position, then he might get some sleep. But he couldn’t even turn over, there simply wasn’t any room. If he moved to the right, he’d knock over his water, if he moved to the left, he’d spill what was left of his food. The blanket under him felt stiff and dirty and smelled like urine. He shifted irritably. And that ungodly howling and yowling, it never stopped. He felt as if he were going mad.
What had he done to deserve this?
October is getting on, New Pop Lit fans, which makes it a perfect time to bring you something from the dark side…
Wred Fright gives us a flash-fiction tale today, filled with scary dead-ends and the remnants of dreams. Feast upon Brian Moves Back!
After college, Brian moved back to his shitty hometown.
Slept in his shitty old bed in his parents’ shitty old house.
His parents got upset every time Brian called their town “shitty”.