Bad Luck or Dumb Luck?

If you had told me, at the end of last year, that I wouldn't even manage to put out one of my stories a month in 2025, well, I probably wouldn't have been surprised.  Disappointed, sure, but not surprised.  

But hey, here's what I managed to get out this month, a short(ish) story called "Slightly Used, Mildly Cursed."  It was born when, being too cheap to buy new floormats for my car last year, I went on Facebook Marketplace, and found a listing for mats that were "Gently used."  It amused me, because floormats tend to either get used hard or not used at all (what, do you suppose they made people take their shoes off when they got in the car?).  And I imagined other similar listings for floormats that were "Slightly soiled" or "Partially befouled" or "Mildly cursed."  And a story was born.

Big Anklevich too accepted my challenge to write a story about cursed floormats, and his tale is called "Pre-Owned," which you can buy RIGHT HERE.  My own tale, is about Jesse, a Los Angeleno whose ex-girlfriend suggests he buy new floormats, and he, being only barely less cheap than I am, picks up some five dollar mats that are both slightly used and "Mildly Cursed."  And from that point on, his luck goes south real quick.

Your luck may too take a turn for the worse, if you don't go to THIS LINK and buy the short story.

Okay, that's highly unlikely.  But no more so than me getting another tale published this month.

Rish Outcast 309: MagicClaw

Rish presents his 2014 claw game story, "MagicClaw." Two brothers discover the claw game at the convenience store is more than meets the eye. Play at your own risk.

To download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

To support my hopeless efforts on Patreon, click HERE.

Logo by Gino "MagicBra" Moretto.

The Truth Nut

A lady approached my desk at work and, without any approbation by me, began to tell me of her time working with the sick and dying in Ecuador years ago.  I assumed she had worked with the Salvation Army or the Peace Corps or something similar, but she started telling me about all the people she'd seen with terminal cancer, and that it was actually the CIA that was injecting people with this irreparable cancer, linked to the Covid vaccine, and that it was created in a benign-seeming lab in Saskatoon (which I have to admit I chuckled at, because it's as funny a place name as Lake Titicaca or Toad Suck, Arkansas).  When I did, her feelings were hurt and she said, "I know I sound like a nut, but I'm a truth nut!" and started to cry.  I apologized, but she wandered away, presumably to look for watch for chemtrails. 

An hour or so later, I started writing this blogpost, and she came up to me again, interrupting.  She had written up a list of her references and the experts who were speaking the truth about the impending loom of transhumanism, and told me they were "not all from the YouTube."  I guess she was not offended by me after all, and proceeded to tell me all about nanotechnology and the secret tests being run on average citizens and her son-in-law in Edmonton who does autopsies ("but is not a mortician, he's the other thing") and can always tell the difference between a dead body that's been vaccinated and one that hasn't, because of all the irregularities and abnormalities in the corpses that were "jabbed."

She really had a lot to say, but I was a) afraid of hurting her feelings, and b) a little big curious how long she could keep her rant going, since I had already decided to blog about it.  And the answer was: 

I'll never know, because after fifteen minutes, I cut her off because I was late going on my rounds (and I was worried Abe on the other side of the building would wonder what was going on at the library entrance and call me).  She clearly had more to say, but seemed to understand and/or was used to being interrupted (and disbelieved).  She gave me the paper with her notes on it and left, and I felt bad . . . but did I feel sorry for her or sorry for me?

Rish Outcast 308: In Security 4

The mean man, Rish Outfield, tells more stories about being a library security guard, including:

1. The Vomit and the Unlucky Patron
2. The Guy Who Says That The Library Is For Everyone
3. "I don't know you. Are you new here?"

If you wish to download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

If you wish to support me on Patreon, click HERE.

Logo by Gino "The Pee Wee Kiwi" Moretto.

Fake Sean Fakes The Hits

In college, I got a job--at least in part--due to my Sean Connery impression.*  And that's either been a back-pocket talent or a crutch ever since.  

Case in point: I've recently sat down (okay, most are standing up) and recorded Fake Sean Connery quoting pop songs for use over on Instagram, the account I made years ago and almost never use, where I wear a Connery mask and say stuff, sometimes profound, usually quite the opposite.

As of now, I have thirty-seven of the suckers recorded (though only thirty-six will be used), and I'll be posting them every day or so for the rest of the summer.  You may go over to Fake Sean's Instagram page if you'd like to play along.

In case you're interested, so far, the vast majority of songs have been from the Eighties (the absolute best decade for music, sorry, snobs), but I've tried to sprinkle in older and newer songs, just in case someone without a memory of paying double for New Releases happens upon the page.

And one of the songs I accidentally did twice, which I'll go ahead and post here, just for the novelty.

Hopefully, Real Sean would be stirred.  Not shaken.


*The owner said he called me in for an interview specifically because I put it in my resume under Skills.

I Perform "Dead By Night" on Tales To Terrify

I know I said that last time was the final story I'm doing for the Tales To Terrify podcast, but whoops, here's another one.  I was born without a spine, as you may recall.

This time it's "Dead By Night" by Edd Vick.  It's very short, about nine minutes long, so they bundled it with another story, "Janelle Is Still Janelle," by Donovan Thiesson.  In Vick's story, a young policeman investigates murders at a retirement home . . . in a case where stakes might be more useful than firearms.

Will it be my last?  The answer cannot be found HERE.  But you CAN probably find out if Janelle is still Janelle.