The Curse of Gary (Part 56)

After a minute, and no sound above, Victor crawled out from beneath the table. He checked and saw all the balls were back on the felt. "I reckon that's it," he said, stroking his chin. He looked around the ceiling at the gum tree branches. "Now I just need a way to—" He noticed the... Continue Reading →

The Curse of Gary (Part 51)

He turned the door knob and pushed open the door. A wide room spread before him, its floor, overlaid in sleek, black tiles, glistened like the sea beneath a crescent moon. In the middle of this sea an immense, felt-covered island arose: a nine foot pool table. Victor smiled and stepped into the room. Looking... Continue Reading →

The Curse of Gary (Part 4)

"Good sir," said Victor to the owner, "kindly pour a shot of gin." The owner hesitated; Victor nodded to him; the owner relented. The three men watched the potent liquid flow from bottle to shot glass. "Now, Keith," said Victor, "this is a metronome. It keeps time, like a drumbeat. When I set the pendulum... Continue Reading →

The Curse of Gary (Part 3)

Victor clicked open his briefcase and took out a shiny black metronome. He placed it on the bar. The owner leaned in for a closer look, wiggled his finger in his ear then shrugged. "What is it?" he asked. "This, my good fellow, is the finest tempo-keeping device known to man. It has a finer... Continue Reading →

The Curse of Gary (Part 2)

Victor walked with a brisk step and a broad smile, both of which faded in seconds. Though it was only ten in the morning the temperature was already 35° Celsius, and its equivalent in Fahrenheit. Victor glanced up at the sun, which beat down on him like Keith Moon upon a snare drum. He noticed... Continue Reading →

Poem: Morning Coffee

This morning I woke from pleasant dreams, To the wafting scent of roasted beans. The kettle boiled and sounded it's call, I heard the whistle from down the hall.   I put my old robe on over my trunks, To the friendly clink of coffee cups. Now, I don't mind a noisy home, But I... Continue Reading →

Book Review: The Catcher in the Rye

All I used to know about this novel was that Mark David Chapman had it with him when he shot John Lennon. Fearing the book contained some bewitching influence, for years I resisted the curiosity to read it, lest I, too, be brainwashed into murdering an overrated music star. Then recently I watched a television... Continue Reading →

Book Review: The Sun Also Rises

In the state art gallery I saw a painting that consisted of three huge orange swirls across a giant white canvas. It would have taken all of thirty seconds to paint. I imagine art critics raved about the piece’s “importance”, and discussed the great meaning it conveyed. Meanwhile, the humble art gallery patron was left... Continue Reading →

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