Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
He took his socks off in the office, balled them up and set them on the desk.
His partner had done the laundry earlier. A few hours later, she walked in and tossed a pair of socks on the bed. Seeing them, he put them away in his sock drawer. It was only when he went to put on his socks and shoes to walk up and check the mail did he realize what had happened.
He kept quiet as he typed, making as little noise as possible. Muses had turned out in a large number and were offering terrific guidance. He didn’t want to scare them off.
After knowing one another for fifty-one years, including forty-five years of marriage, they remain a couple separated by a common language, even though they’re both American.
He came in from wading in the ocean in the Pacific northwest and told his wife, “The water wasn’t cold.”
She looked surprised. “It wasn’t?”
“No.” He smiled. “It was FUCKING FREEZING.”
He read the news article about a man stealing from people during an overnight flight. One woman had 10,000 USD and 13,000 Argentinian pesos stolen from her. He and his wife were shocked that she’d be carrying that much currency and that someone was able to steal it from her. As his wife said, “If I had that much on me on an aircraft, I wouldn’t be sleeping, and I’d probably be sitting on my purse.”
11:30 PM. 72 degrees F outside. The night was still. Nothing stirred. Moon and starshine relieved the night’s black canopy.
He slipped outside with a flashlight and quietly looked up and down the street and around the bushes. Just as expected, he found no zombies.
He nodded to himself as he returned inside. This conclusively proved that zombies don’t like warm weather.
With Boo’s demise, the mystery of which cat struggled with the litter box was finally decisively closed.
Michael Seidel, writer 