http://www.onetinleg.com/storiesindex.htm Audio versions of the tales from Onetinleg.com Creative Commons by-nc-nd robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT Sat, 06 Nov 2010 20:45:53 GMT Absolute RSS Editor http://www.rssboard.org/rss-specification 1 http://www.onetinleg.com/images/ituneslogo.jpg http://www.onetinleg.com/storiesindex.htm Creative Commons by-nc-ndRob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,FictionArts/LiteratureRob HunternoRob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,FictionA Rob Hunter reader-fiction and fantasy. Lovers, losers, and part-time demons.A Rob Hunter reader-fiction and fantasy. Lovers, losers, and part-time demons.Subscribe with NewsGatorSubscribe with GoogleSubscribe with PlusmoSubscribe with Live.comSubscribe with Podcast ReadySubscribe with FlurryWhat happens to a Sci-Fi or Fantasy story after it has been published—the remainder pile, a sporadic reprint, oblivion? Typically the afterlife of a tale consists of gathering dust until the writer's heirs and assigns shred it for packing nick-knacks and other writerly impedimenta. Not quite the half-life of linoleum. Hence onetinleg.com. To misquote Walt Kelly's Pogo: "We have seen the future and it's not yet..." The call, dear reader, is yours. Our mother was called to claim her husband's bodiless head. She picked out a handsome stone of speckled gray Vermont granite for the resting place of what was left of her late husband. "Lost in Willipaq," read the stone. Willipaq was the name of the small Maine town where David, our father, died. There was a mix up and our father's body had been cremated by mistake. They still had the head however, neatly tagged and in a box. —Klein, the Clone from Lost in Willipaq<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/8xS2Xpe1ypY" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/bookstore.htm Sun, 07 Nov 2010 20:54:20 GMT noOur mother was called to claim her husband's bodiless head. She picked out a handsome stone of speckled gray Vermont granite for the resting place of what was left of her late husband. "Lost in Willipaq," read the stone. Willipaq was the name of the smallRob HunterOur mother was called to claim her husband's bodiless head. She picked out a handsome stone of speckled gray Vermont granite for the resting place of what was left of her late husband. "Lost in Willipaq," read the stone. Willipaq was the name of the small Maine town where David, our father, died. There was a mix up and our father's body had been cremated by mistake. They still had the head however, neatly tagged and in a box. —Klein, the Clone from Lost in WillipaqRob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/8xS2Xpe1ypY/bookstore.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/bookstore.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/PDFs/Lost in Willipaq.zip Lechery, debauchery, total annihilation, blood and mud—the usual stuff as two prime movers contend for power. Not power to do anything in particular—threaten, coerce, destroy: illuminate a city, tighten the skeins of a siege engine, or wind up the bowels of a child's clockwork toy—just power to have around. Just in case. Just the familiar, reassuring bulge of potential, there to quiet unease was not much to ask. But who to ask? —The Return of the Orange Virgin from Platterland<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/8xS2Xpe1ypY" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/bookstore.htm Sun, 07 Nov 2010 20:54:20 GMT noLechery, debauchery, total annihilation, blood and mud—the usual stuff as two prime movers contend for power. Not power to do anything in particular—threaten, coerce, destroy: illuminate a city, tighten the skeins of a siege engine, or wind up the bowels Rob HunterLechery, debauchery, total annihilation, blood and mud—the usual stuff as two prime movers contend for power. Not power to do anything in particular—threaten, coerce, destroy: illuminate a city, tighten the skeins of a siege engine, or wind up the bowels of a child's clockwork toy—just power to have around. Just in case. Just the familiar, reassuring bulge of potential, there to quiet unease was not much to ask. But who to ask? —The Return of the Orange Virgin from PlatterlandRob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/8xS2Xpe1ypY/bookstore.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/bookstore.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/PDFs/Platterland.zip It had been, by the saint’s count, a thousand years or more since the last tour passed through—Attila and his Hunnic Horde, their hardy ponies pulling an endless cavalcade of Airstream trailers that stretched to the sunrise. "I’m a martyr," said the saint. "Martyrs don’t shoot back."<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/6siLjuzrhC0" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/velcro.htm Sun, 07 Nov 2010 20:54:20 GMT noIt had been, by the saint’s count, a thousand years or more since the last tour passed through—Attila and his Hunnic Horde, their hardy ponies pulling an endless cavalcade of Airstream trailers that stretched to the sunrise. "I’m a martyr," said the saintRob HunterIt had been, by the saint’s count, a thousand years or more since the last tour passed through—Attila and his Hunnic Horde, their hardy ponies pulling an endless cavalcade of Airstream trailers that stretched to the sunrise. "I’m a martyr," said the saint. "Martyrs don’t shoot back."Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/6siLjuzrhC0/velcro.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/velcro.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/velcro.mp3 The closed library smells of cluster flies, old books, hardly strange in a library, and an indefinable something―funerary linen from some millennial boneyard, perhaps. Elizabeth Profitt Pease strains to open the window. Shut. Tight. "What have I done for myself lately?" Libby Pease asks no one in particular. "Not much," she answers, "have I?" Libby regards the pottery jar that contains her father's ashes.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/rD5B3PSX0-4" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/blue.htm Sun, 07 Nov 2010 20:54:00 GMT noThe closed library smells of cluster flies, old books, hardly strange in a library, and an indefinable something―funerary linen from some millennial boneyard, perhaps. Elizabeth Profitt Pease strains to open the window. Shut. Tight. "What have I done for Rob HunterThe closed library smells of cluster flies, old books, hardly strange in a library, and an indefinable something―funerary linen from some millennial boneyard, perhaps. Elizabeth Profitt Pease strains to open the window. Shut. Tight. "What have I done for myself lately?" Libby Pease asks no one in particular. "Not much," she answers, "have I?" Libby regards the pottery jar that contains her father's ashes.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/rD5B3PSX0-4/blue.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/blue.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/blue.mp3 The heart-breaking beauty—the original of the flesh and blood face with the moondrop eyes—resided, a carved and painted sandstone effigy, in the Bureau of Antiquities, the face of an ancient queen. The Sender of Dreams had sent him either a true dream or a false dream. It was for him to find out which.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/8pinfzbdS5Q" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/queenshead.htm Sun, 07 Nov 2010 20:53:52 GMT noThe heart-breaking beauty—the original of the flesh and blood face with the moondrop eyes—resided, a carved and painted sandstone effigy, in the Bureau of Antiquities, the face of an ancient queen. The Sender of Dreams had sent him either a true dream or Rob HunterThe heart-breaking beauty—the original of the flesh and blood face with the moondrop eyes—resided, a carved and painted sandstone effigy, in the Bureau of Antiquities, the face of an ancient queen. The Sender of Dreams had sent him either a true dream or a false dream. It was for him to find out which.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/8pinfzbdS5Q/queenshead.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/queenshead.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/queens_head_1.mp3 On Chalifoux the consolations of religion offered no hope of an afterlife below the rank of Adjutant, Hdqtrs Attached. Tech Spec 5 and up might hope, but the paperwork required to hold a place in line for Paradise was considerable and most gave up on it. Poachers, mopers, gawkers, evaders of the excise―the common lot, enlisted personnel included―were encouraged to take their pleasure in the here and now. robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) 325876A3-24A4-49D4-9FCE-FD6E1EEED1B5 Sun, 07 Nov 2010 20:53:47 GMT noOn Chalifoux the consolations of religion offered no hope of an afterlife below the rank of Adjutant, Hdqtrs Attached. Tech Spec 5 and up might hope, but the paperwork required to hold a place in line for Paradise was considerable and most gave up on it. Rob HunterOn Chalifoux the consolations of religion offered no hope of an afterlife below the rank of Adjutant, Hdqtrs Attached. Tech Spec 5 and up might hope, but the paperwork required to hold a place in line for Paradise was considerable and most gave up on it. Poachers, mopers, gawkers, evaders of the excise―the common lot, enlisted personnel included―were encouraged to take their pleasure in the here and now.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/queens_head_2.mp3 There had been a summons to the carpeted office at the end of the file-drome. Miss Queazing flashed him a melting smile, exposing a dazzling six-inch length of polished incisor. One of her fangs had been drilled and inlaid with an intaglio Tree-of-Life design. It sparkled with diamond chips. robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) BDB085F4-52F1-4A48-9AE4-62570650B128 Sun, 07 Nov 2010 20:53:28 GMT noThere had been a summons to the carpeted office at the end of the file-drome. Miss Queazing flashed him a melting smile, exposing a dazzling six-inch length of polished incisor. One of her fangs had been drilled and inlaid with an intaglio Tree-of-Life deRob HunterThere had been a summons to the carpeted office at the end of the file-drome. Miss Queazing flashed him a melting smile, exposing a dazzling six-inch length of polished incisor. One of her fangs had been drilled and inlaid with an intaglio Tree-of-Life design. It sparkled with diamond chips.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/queens_head_3.mp3 A Queen Empress is dependent on handouts from a thousand squabbling feudal overlords. The feudal lords are at the mercy of their clan chiefs. The chiefs can't make a move without approval by their clans, and the clans their septs. In late feudal times, a new ruler appeared—the Tetrarch, thus named because he holds administrative authority at the pleasure of the Four Houses: The lords, the chiefs, the clans, and the septs. The Queen, in theory, stands above the Tetrarch, while in practice she is ceremonially seated—higher by an inch or so, and slightly to the rear. robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) D60B3ED3-04D4-47C2-8971-0582F3D914AD Sun, 07 Nov 2010 20:53:18 GMT noA Queen Empress is dependent on handouts from a thousand squabbling feudal overlords. The feudal lords are at the mercy of their clan chiefs. The chiefs can't make a move without approval by their clans, and the clans their septs. In late feudal times, a Rob HunterA Queen Empress is dependent on handouts from a thousand squabbling feudal overlords. The feudal lords are at the mercy of their clan chiefs. The chiefs can't make a move without approval by their clans, and the clans their septs. In late feudal times, a new ruler appeared—the Tetrarch, thus named because he holds administrative authority at the pleasure of the Four Houses: The lords, the chiefs, the clans, and the septs. The Queen, in theory, stands above the Tetrarch, while in practice she is ceremonially seated—higher by an inch or so, and slightly to the rear.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/queens_head_4.mp3 What are we doing here in this place dedicated to capturing the gasses and fluids of expired citizens, determining what and who caused the cessation of a productive, taxpaying unit? Does a corpse really care if it was happy before it came here? Alas, the song is gone and we are celebrating the phonograph. robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) B57B64E0-1108-4982-AE3A-E8002C61EBDD Sun, 07 Nov 2010 20:52:51 GMT noWhat are we doing here in this place dedicated to capturing the gasses and fluids of expired citizens, determining what and who caused the cessation of a productive, taxpaying unit? Does a corpse really care if it was happy before it came here? Alas, the Rob HunterWhat are we doing here in this place dedicated to capturing the gasses and fluids of expired citizens, determining what and who caused the cessation of a productive, taxpaying unit? Does a corpse really care if it was happy before it came here? Alas, the song is gone and we are celebrating the phonograph.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/queens_head_5.mp3 Suspended in mid-ceiling, yellow work lights cast fitful shadows every hundred feet; a half foot of water in a concrete channelway reflected oily rainbow ripples. There was a distant vibration of machinery. If I had gone to Hell at least they kept up with the electric bill.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/yEqb02S3aUc" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/twain.htm Fri, 22 Oct 2010 21:26:49 GMT noSuspended in mid-ceiling, yellow work lights cast fitful shadows every hundred feet; a half foot of water in a concrete channelway reflected oily rainbow ripples. There was a distant vibration of machinery. If I had gone to Hell at least they kept up withRob HunterSuspended in mid-ceiling, yellow work lights cast fitful shadows every hundred feet; a half foot of water in a concrete channelway reflected oily rainbow ripples. There was a distant vibration of machinery. If I had gone to Hell at least they kept up with the electric bill.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/yEqb02S3aUc/twain.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/twain.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/twain1.mp3 A woman popped out of thin air beside me. She was swinging a serious looking cavalry saber. She gave me the once-over and attacked. I ducked. Her pale gray eyes grew huge. "Oh, terribly sorry, old chap. I thought you were someone else," she said. "Are you still alive?" I said yes. "I say, good fun, what?" she remarked. A bullet zinged past and we dived under the desk.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/yEqb02S3aUc" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/twain.htm Fri, 22 Oct 2010 21:25:49 GMT noA woman popped out of thin air beside me. She was swinging a serious looking cavalry saber. She gave me the once-over and attacked. I ducked. Her pale gray eyes grew huge. "Oh, terribly sorry, old chap. I thought you were someone else," she said. "Are youRob HunterA woman popped out of thin air beside me. She was swinging a serious looking cavalry saber. She gave me the once-over and attacked. I ducked. Her pale gray eyes grew huge. "Oh, terribly sorry, old chap. I thought you were someone else," she said. "Are you still alive?" I said yes. "I say, good fun, what?" she remarked. A bullet zinged past and we dived under the desk.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/yEqb02S3aUc/twain.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/twain.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/twain2.mp3 "We have been called here by a power greater than ourselves?" asked Sam Clemens. "The New York City Transit Authority," I said. Another invisible express rumbled by on the Lexington Avenue line. The noise mounted to a crescendo.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/yEqb02S3aUc" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/twain.htm Fri, 22 Oct 2010 21:24:49 GMT no"We have been called here by a power greater than ourselves?" asked Sam Clemens. "The New York City Transit Authority," I said. Another invisible express rumbled by on the Lexington Avenue line. The noise mounted to a crescendo.Rob Hunter"We have been called here by a power greater than ourselves?" asked Sam Clemens. "The New York City Transit Authority," I said. Another invisible express rumbled by on the Lexington Avenue line. The noise mounted to a crescendo.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/yEqb02S3aUc/twain.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/twain.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/twain3.mp3 Calumet City, Illinois is the fallen sister of Hammond, Indiana. That the Calumet River had once caught fire was legend among the guys at the Antlers bar. The two towns straddled the state line. Calumet City was blue neon beer joints with electric country bands; all the bars had strippers. This particular bar was called the Calypso. The same woman as last time twitched above the bar, partaking of a private epiphany two feet from the end of her nose.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/SBn22yKITp8" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/garfield.htm Sun, 11 Jul 2010 15:10:40 GMT noCalumet City, Illinois is the fallen sister of Hammond, Indiana. That the Calumet River had once caught fire was legend among the guys at the Antlers bar. The two towns straddled the state line. Calumet City was blue neon beer joints with electric countryRob HunterCalumet City, Illinois is the fallen sister of Hammond, Indiana. That the Calumet River had once caught fire was legend among the guys at the Antlers bar. The two towns straddled the state line. Calumet City was blue neon beer joints with electric country bands; all the bars had strippers. This particular bar was called the Calypso. The same woman as last time twitched above the bar, partaking of a private epiphany two feet from the end of her nose.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/SBn22yKITp8/garfield.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/garfield.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/garfield.mp3 Appearances count for a lot in rural Maine; every soul is a member of some church, high, low, Pentecostal or other. Check one please. It was not thought overly strange when Harry Profitt Pease took to wearing an aluminum foil hat to confuse space aliens, nor when he was observed in conversation with the black and white spotted pig that followed him around. He had been, after all, the star center on that state championship team.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/NiSTFUG2gO8" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/harry.htm Thu, 13 May 2010 09:30:40 GMT noAppearances count for a lot in rural Maine; every soul is a member of some church, high, low, Pentecostal or other. Check one please. It was not thought overly strange when Harry Profitt Pease took to wearing an aluminum foil hat to confuse space aliens, Rob HunterAppearances count for a lot in rural Maine; every soul is a member of some church, high, low, Pentecostal or other. Check one please. It was not thought overly strange when Harry Profitt Pease took to wearing an aluminum foil hat to confuse space aliens, nor when he was observed in conversation with the black and white spotted pig that followed him around. He had been, after all, the star center on that state championship team.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/NiSTFUG2gO8/harry.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/harry.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/harry.mp3 A tall insect with feathery antennae and a nervous tic paused before the mirror of a machine plastered with multicolored blurbs announcing it as a dispenser of a popular brand of chewing gum. The walking nightmare spoke to his human companion. "Harry, you wait with the bags, there's a good fellow." Evenly modulated tones carried the force of a command.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/LGmwHKAzPmc" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/beewolf.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noA tall insect with feathery antennae and a nervous tic paused before the mirror of a machine plastered with multicolored blurbs announcing it as a dispenser of a popular brand of chewing gum. The walking nightmare spoke to his human companion. "Harry, youRob HunterA tall insect with feathery antennae and a nervous tic paused before the mirror of a machine plastered with multicolored blurbs announcing it as a dispenser of a popular brand of chewing gum. The walking nightmare spoke to his human companion. "Harry, you wait with the bags, there's a good fellow." Evenly modulated tones carried the force of a command.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/LGmwHKAzPmc/beewolf.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/beewolf.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/beewolf1.mp3 There was a thump, more felt than heard. The sunflowers bobbed on their stalks and kilometers distant concentric rings of geothermal steam billowed as a cargo hoist sprang from its catapult and flew glittering toward the horizon. Heads turned to the spacedrome. This was the daily big event on Chalifoux. As the winged container skimmed a ridge of hills its motors cut in. Spiraling magentas and greens surrounded it with a scrambling palette. robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) 75DA8892-2F56-4568-99A0-E417F5DF3447 Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noThere was a thump, more felt than heard. The sunflowers bobbed on their stalks and kilometers distant concentric rings of geothermal steam billowed as a cargo hoist sprang from its catapult and flew glittering toward the horizon. Heads turned to the spaceRob HunterThere was a thump, more felt than heard. The sunflowers bobbed on their stalks and kilometers distant concentric rings of geothermal steam billowed as a cargo hoist sprang from its catapult and flew glittering toward the horizon. Heads turned to the spacedrome. This was the daily big event on Chalifoux. As the winged container skimmed a ridge of hills its motors cut in. Spiraling magentas and greens surrounded it with a scrambling palette.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/beewolf2.mp3 "Ahh..." From the bottom of the bag Titania came up with a very old-fashioned and lethal-looking large-caliber pistol. "Hit the floor, I'm going to make some noise." She thumbed the hammer back and closed her eyes. "This is only slick if it works, otherwise it's monumentally stupid." The commission cop let fly a thundering volley from her huge, and by now unauthorized, gun. robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) 9064382E-06C7-495D-97D9-514835173E2E Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT no"Ahh..." From the bottom of the bag Titania came up with a very old-fashioned and lethal-looking large-caliber pistol. "Hit the floor, I'm going to make some noise." She thumbed the hammer back and closed her eyes. "This is only slick if it works, otherwiRob Hunter"Ahh..." From the bottom of the bag Titania came up with a very old-fashioned and lethal-looking large-caliber pistol. "Hit the floor, I'm going to make some noise." She thumbed the hammer back and closed her eyes. "This is only slick if it works, otherwise it's monumentally stupid." The commission cop let fly a thundering volley from her huge, and by now unauthorized, gun.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/beewolf3.mp3 Teaberry Balcom held the marble between a thumb and forefinger. He squeezed and the marble dripped like an overripe grape. There was a roll of distant thunder and an aurora borealis blazed in the cloudless midday sky. "Oops, too tight," he said.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/xKgabhSY4eg" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/diplodocus.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noTeaberry Balcom held the marble between a thumb and forefinger. He squeezed and the marble dripped like an overripe grape. There was a roll of distant thunder and an aurora borealis blazed in the cloudless midday sky. "Oops, too tight," he said.Rob HunterTeaberry Balcom held the marble between a thumb and forefinger. He squeezed and the marble dripped like an overripe grape. There was a roll of distant thunder and an aurora borealis blazed in the cloudless midday sky. "Oops, too tight," he said.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/xKgabhSY4eg/diplodocus.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/diplodocus.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/diplodocus.mp3 Twice a year and regular as clockwork, when Barbara's School of the Dance trots in the latest corps of majorettes and ballerinas, the classic backdrop―Mediterranean hillsides with Raphaelite shepherds and shepherdesses discreetly about their distant businesses―was always requested. In addition to shepherdesses on their backs in the grass under fluffy clouds, there is a backdrop of a convent garden at dusk. Giant bumblebees prowl thick wisteria, vines knot to frame a lovers' bower. Before the foreground, hogging the floor, lies a toppled faun, his lips curled in a sneer of passion. I could not bear to throw the stuff out. Some day someone would want to be immortalized with a leering, panting satyr.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/RqeS_F_lUcg" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/gabriel.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noTwice a year and regular as clockwork, when Barbara's School of the Dance trots in the latest corps of majorettes and ballerinas, the classic backdrop―Mediterranean hillsides with Raphaelite shepherds and shepherdesses discreetly about their distant businRob HunterTwice a year and regular as clockwork, when Barbara's School of the Dance trots in the latest corps of majorettes and ballerinas, the classic backdrop―Mediterranean hillsides with Raphaelite shepherds and shepherdesses discreetly about their distant businesses―was always requested. In addition to shepherdesses on their backs in the grass under fluffy clouds, there is a backdrop of a convent garden at dusk. Giant bumblebees prowl thick wisteria, vines knot to frame a lovers' bower. Before the foreground, hogging the floor, lies a toppled faun, his lips curled in a sneer of passion. I could not bear to throw the stuff out. Some day someone would want to be immortalized with a leering, panting satyr.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/RqeS_F_lUcg/gabriel.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/gabriel.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/gabriel.mp3 Thelma Wagstaff blew herself away as she sat on her high red upholstered stool supervising the cash box at the White Street Billiards and Snooker. Thelma hit the floor like she had fallen out of an airplane, no parachute, and her pistol went bouncing toward Ed Seitz and me. Ed and I were absorbed in the cushion shot he was negotiating. We did not look up; there was a fiver riding on Ed's shot. robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/cherokee.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noThelma Wagstaff blew herself away as she sat on her high red upholstered stool supervising the cash box at the White Street Billiards and Snooker. Thelma hit the floor like she had fallen out of an airplane, no parachute, and her pistol went bouncing towaRob HunterThelma Wagstaff blew herself away as she sat on her high red upholstered stool supervising the cash box at the White Street Billiards and Snooker. Thelma hit the floor like she had fallen out of an airplane, no parachute, and her pistol went bouncing toward Ed Seitz and me. Ed and I were absorbed in the cushion shot he was negotiating. We did not look up; there was a fiver riding on Ed's shot.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/cherokee1.mp3 If you read pulp fiction from the wire racks at the bus depot as avidly as I do—full color covers, tumbled towers, heroes like Doc Smith and Conan the Barbarian—you would realize clairvoyance, if not the bona fide article as defined by Modern Science, had better be taken into consideration. As things will do in a dream, a shovel appeared in my hand. I started digging a foxhole. robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) D08EECB8-DBB4-4D53-B32D-9323B31874ED Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noIf you read pulp fiction from the wire racks at the bus depot as avidly as I do—full color covers, tumbled towers, heroes like Doc Smith and Conan the Barbarian—you would realize clairvoyance, if not the bona fide article as defined by Modern Science, hadRob HunterIf you read pulp fiction from the wire racks at the bus depot as avidly as I do—full color covers, tumbled towers, heroes like Doc Smith and Conan the Barbarian—you would realize clairvoyance, if not the bona fide article as defined by Modern Science, had better be taken into consideration. As things will do in a dream, a shovel appeared in my hand. I started digging a foxhole.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/cherokee2.mp3 The man, an Algonquian, met the moose head on on a springy forest trail. The moose had come that day to drop his antlers and wanted to be alone. It had been an open winter, roots and lichens dying off for lack of snow cover. With bad foraging the moose was tired and irritable. The moose had dropped antlers before and anticipated the loss with regret. His antlers amplified the fall of snow, the separation of a dry leaf from its stem, the impact of a pine needle on the padded forest floor. To go antlerless was to imitate the solitude of starvation and withdraw into himself as into a heavy, windless snowfall.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/Kri704ncYpI" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/moose.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noThe man, an Algonquian, met the moose head on on a springy forest trail. The moose had come that day to drop his antlers and wanted to be alone. It had been an open winter, roots and lichens dying off for lack of snow cover. With bad foraging the moose waRob HunterThe man, an Algonquian, met the moose head on on a springy forest trail. The moose had come that day to drop his antlers and wanted to be alone. It had been an open winter, roots and lichens dying off for lack of snow cover. With bad foraging the moose was tired and irritable. The moose had dropped antlers before and anticipated the loss with regret. His antlers amplified the fall of snow, the separation of a dry leaf from its stem, the impact of a pine needle on the padded forest floor. To go antlerless was to imitate the solitude of starvation and withdraw into himself as into a heavy, windless snowfall.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/Kri704ncYpI/moose.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/moose.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/moose.mp3 "Where is the bear when the bear is not where the bear should be?" asked Frankie Jelinek's husband with sweet reasonableness. "Ever think about that?" "No," said Frankie, "I don't. Wherever teddy bears go. Maybe a picnic." Steve gave his wife a sleepy kiss and rolled over. Supernatural phenomena were not in the baby care books. Yet...<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/ZjelRuK9Yvw" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/teddybear.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT no"Where is the bear when the bear is not where the bear should be?" asked Frankie Jelinek's husband with sweet reasonableness. "Ever think about that?" "No," said Frankie, "I don't. Wherever teddy bears go. Maybe a picnic." Steve gave his wife a sleepy kisRob Hunter"Where is the bear when the bear is not where the bear should be?" asked Frankie Jelinek's husband with sweet reasonableness. "Ever think about that?" "No," said Frankie, "I don't. Wherever teddy bears go. Maybe a picnic." Steve gave his wife a sleepy kiss and rolled over. Supernatural phenomena were not in the baby care books. Yet...Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/ZjelRuK9Yvw/teddybear.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/teddybear.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/teddybear.mp3 Magnetic Betty explained the problem. "And so you see, things fly through the air and stick to me when I walk by. None of my friends' mothers will let them play with me." "A tricky business," replied Dolby Jenks, World's Champion Detective. "Not my field, I'm afraid, Betty. I would suggest that you find different friends with different mothers."<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/SqdKGBcvVWs" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/betty.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noMagnetic Betty explained the problem. "And so you see, things fly through the air and stick to me when I walk by. None of my friends' mothers will let them play with me." "A tricky business," replied Dolby Jenks, World's Champion Detective. "Not my field,Rob HunterMagnetic Betty explained the problem. "And so you see, things fly through the air and stick to me when I walk by. None of my friends' mothers will let them play with me." "A tricky business," replied Dolby Jenks, World's Champion Detective. "Not my field, I'm afraid, Betty. I would suggest that you find different friends with different mothers."Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/SqdKGBcvVWs/betty.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/betty.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/betty.mp3 An odor of mint attracted the francher to an unpromising patch of brown scrub. It spread its fetlocks, a legacy of embedded Przewalski horse genes, and arched its neck down to feed. It munched contentedly for some minutes then collapsed. The francher's nostrils flared as it gulped at the thin unsatisfying air. Wide speckled eyes bulged; oval pupils stared. Under the brilliant glare of the high, dry sun its knee joints cracked, emitting soft popping sounds. An Andean vulture circled closer.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/_I82UkU7L6o" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/francher.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noAn odor of mint attracted the francher to an unpromising patch of brown scrub. It spread its fetlocks, a legacy of embedded Przewalski horse genes, and arched its neck down to feed. It munched contentedly for some minutes then collapsed. The francher's noRob HunterAn odor of mint attracted the francher to an unpromising patch of brown scrub. It spread its fetlocks, a legacy of embedded Przewalski horse genes, and arched its neck down to feed. It munched contentedly for some minutes then collapsed. The francher's nostrils flared as it gulped at the thin unsatisfying air. Wide speckled eyes bulged; oval pupils stared. Under the brilliant glare of the high, dry sun its knee joints cracked, emitting soft popping sounds. An Andean vulture circled closer.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/_I82UkU7L6o/francher.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/francher.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/francher1.mp3 In fairness to the former owner of Claude's prize scalp, a wayward Detroiter lost in the woods, he had never heard of Claude Ellis; he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and had been dead anyway, along with a whole lot of others. The Over-Homers most likely caught them sniffing around and shot first. The Canadians were OK, not like the government men: rendezvous, free food, free whores and no trouble. robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) 0484A1B6-853A-4AB8-BA29-2C019B525059 Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noIn fairness to the former owner of Claude's prize scalp, a wayward Detroiter lost in the woods, he had never heard of Claude Ellis; he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and had been dead anyway, along with a whole lot of others. The Over-HomerRob HunterIn fairness to the former owner of Claude's prize scalp, a wayward Detroiter lost in the woods, he had never heard of Claude Ellis; he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and had been dead anyway, along with a whole lot of others. The Over-Homers most likely caught them sniffing around and shot first. The Canadians were OK, not like the government men: rendezvous, free food, free whores and no trouble.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/francher2.mp3 "Sweet Jesus!" Elizabeth Profitt Pease has—for just a moment, a split second—the queer idea that there is an eyeball in her teacup. "Uh... hello, eye." The eye does not speak. She takes a swallow of Dr. Pomeroy's straight from the bottle and shakes her head to clear it. She squints; the eye in her teacup squints back—the eye is hazel and clear. It is her mother's eye.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/J8vxixRxw3k" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/chimaera.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT no"Sweet Jesus!" Elizabeth Profitt Pease has—for just a moment, a split second—the queer idea that there is an eyeball in her teacup. "Uh... hello, eye." The eye does not speak. She takes a swallow of Dr. Pomeroy's straight from the bottle and shakes her heRob Hunter"Sweet Jesus!" Elizabeth Profitt Pease has—for just a moment, a split second—the queer idea that there is an eyeball in her teacup. "Uh... hello, eye." The eye does not speak. She takes a swallow of Dr. Pomeroy's straight from the bottle and shakes her head to clear it. She squints; the eye in her teacup squints back—the eye is hazel and clear. It is her mother's eye.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/J8vxixRxw3k/chimaera.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/chimaera.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/chimaera.mp3 "My sister, is she dead? Go and give her a poke, would you?" The great white presence that was the Lady Mother of the Long Walkers indicated the row of captive queens on their dais beneath her, deferentially lower.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/yDQaZ-60Lk8" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/coolie.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT no"My sister, is she dead? Go and give her a poke, would you?" The great white presence that was the Lady Mother of the Long Walkers indicated the row of captive queens on their dais beneath her, deferentially lower.Rob Hunter"My sister, is she dead? Go and give her a poke, would you?" The great white presence that was the Lady Mother of the Long Walkers indicated the row of captive queens on their dais beneath her, deferentially lower.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/yDQaZ-60Lk8/coolie.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/coolie.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/coolie1.mp3 On the countertop the lone ant groomed its antennae. "You are going to kill your husband. He is wearing out, then?" The ant was dusted white from its struggle through the arsenic buffet Ginny had just laid out. robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) 260A9252-E534-447C-8F8E-AD527D550823 Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noOn the countertop the lone ant groomed its antennae. "You are going to kill your husband. He is wearing out, then?" The ant was dusted white from its struggle through the arsenic buffet Ginny had just laid out.Rob HunterOn the countertop the lone ant groomed its antennae. "You are going to kill your husband. He is wearing out, then?" The ant was dusted white from its struggle through the arsenic buffet Ginny had just laid out.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/coolie2.mp3 "See that, Franklin?" said Eleanor Roosevelt. "That's O'Brien." Franklin observed a line of stars on the eastern horizon. There were four. "Oops, sorry." Eleanor nodded at her new constellation, O'Brien, and the fourth star blinked out.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/Cq1TE7oFP90" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/daphne.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT no"See that, Franklin?" said Eleanor Roosevelt. "That's O'Brien." Franklin observed a line of stars on the eastern horizon. There were four. "Oops, sorry." Eleanor nodded at her new constellation, O'Brien, and the fourth star blinked out.Rob Hunter"See that, Franklin?" said Eleanor Roosevelt. "That's O'Brien." Franklin observed a line of stars on the eastern horizon. There were four. "Oops, sorry." Eleanor nodded at her new constellation, O'Brien, and the fourth star blinked out.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/Cq1TE7oFP90/daphne.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/daphne.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/daphne.mp3 "I am midtown. Manhattan?" Linda Winkelman speaks her question out loud in the middle of the rush hour push; no one notices. She can not recall who she is or why she is here. "I remember lemonade," says Linda. Buildings disappeared, people disappeared. Now it is her turn. Linda Winkelman was born the year they invented frozen lemonade.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/8TMxJSkWLmQ" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/lemonade.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT no"I am midtown. Manhattan?" Linda Winkelman speaks her question out loud in the middle of the rush hour push; no one notices. She can not recall who she is or why she is here. "I remember lemonade," says Linda. Buildings disappeared, people disappeared. NoRob Hunter"I am midtown. Manhattan?" Linda Winkelman speaks her question out loud in the middle of the rush hour push; no one notices. She can not recall who she is or why she is here. "I remember lemonade," says Linda. Buildings disappeared, people disappeared. Now it is her turn. Linda Winkelman was born the year they invented frozen lemonade.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/8TMxJSkWLmQ/lemonade.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/lemonade.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/lemonade1.mp3 Linda's mother is secretly tickled at the patronymic of Linda's intended. "Winkelman? His name is Winkelman? That's the same name as ours. It sounds like incest. The neighbors will think your father was screwing some babe in Yonkers." robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) 84D84365-4DF6-4024-95DB-AD32936E213C Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noLinda's mother is secretly tickled at the patronymic of Linda's intended. "Winkelman? His name is Winkelman? That's the same name as ours. It sounds like incest. The neighbors will think your father was screwing some babe in Yonkers."Rob HunterLinda's mother is secretly tickled at the patronymic of Linda's intended. "Winkelman? His name is Winkelman? That's the same name as ours. It sounds like incest. The neighbors will think your father was screwing some babe in Yonkers."Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/lemonade2.mp3 The woman at the far end of the kaleidoscope had not been there last week, of this Simon was sure. She was naked or near enough, thinly dressed in a diaphanous veil. "Holy shit!" Simon Alexander breathed on the lens and gave it a wipe with his sleeve. "I see that I have your attention..." said the woman, "...finally."<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/OMiCaYBVXGs" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/scope.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noThe woman at the far end of the kaleidoscope had not been there last week, of this Simon was sure. She was naked or near enough, thinly dressed in a diaphanous veil. "Holy shit!" Simon Alexander breathed on the lens and gave it a wipe with his sleeve. "I Rob HunterThe woman at the far end of the kaleidoscope had not been there last week, of this Simon was sure. She was naked or near enough, thinly dressed in a diaphanous veil. "Holy shit!" Simon Alexander breathed on the lens and gave it a wipe with his sleeve. "I see that I have your attention..." said the woman, "...finally."Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/OMiCaYBVXGs/scope.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/scope.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/scope.mp3 The ineffable, unnamable God of Hosts stood with a burly, bearded personage who held a bar towel draped over one arm, a symbol of his trade. The golem toyed nervously with an ear. "My people should quake at My unutterable Name, not fall on their tukhes," God sighed. The ear came off. "Bim... this is not about you. Try to stay on topic."<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/S13PIUBL0uA" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/mcmuckle.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noThe ineffable, unnamable God of Hosts stood with a burly, bearded personage who held a bar towel draped over one arm, a symbol of his trade. The golem toyed nervously with an ear. "My people should quake at My unutterable Name, not fall on their tukhes," Rob HunterThe ineffable, unnamable God of Hosts stood with a burly, bearded personage who held a bar towel draped over one arm, a symbol of his trade. The golem toyed nervously with an ear. "My people should quake at My unutterable Name, not fall on their tukhes," God sighed. The ear came off. "Bim... this is not about you. Try to stay on topic."Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/S13PIUBL0uA/mcmuckle.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/mcmuckle.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/mcmuckle.mp3 The penis with the butterfly tattoo arrived in the mail that afternoon. A plain cardboard box, book rate. Inside a bubble-wrap cocoon was the plastic bottle, Sue Bee Honey. The norteamericano supermarkets displayed these in tidy rows near the peanut butter. The butterfly's wings hung limp in a golden haze of honey as though it had only just left its chrysalis and paused in the sun to dry.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/Dk-8RhrSSw0" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/bungalow.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noThe penis with the butterfly tattoo arrived in the mail that afternoon. A plain cardboard box, book rate. Inside a bubble-wrap cocoon was the plastic bottle, Sue Bee Honey. The norteamericano supermarkets displayed these in tidy rows near the peanut butteRob HunterThe penis with the butterfly tattoo arrived in the mail that afternoon. A plain cardboard box, book rate. Inside a bubble-wrap cocoon was the plastic bottle, Sue Bee Honey. The norteamericano supermarkets displayed these in tidy rows near the peanut butter. The butterfly's wings hung limp in a golden haze of honey as though it had only just left its chrysalis and paused in the sun to dry.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/Dk-8RhrSSw0/bungalow.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/bungalow.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/bungalow1.mp3 San Expedito was fussing with his military kilt. "This better not be birdlime, Barney. Or so help me..." Oswaldo pretended to read, pointedly ignoring his patron saint. robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) 431F0BA1-827C-4024-8847-CC1189FAE682 Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noSan Expedito was fussing with his military kilt. "This better not be birdlime, Barney. Or so help me..." Oswaldo pretended to read, pointedly ignoring his patron saint.Rob HunterSan Expedito was fussing with his military kilt. "This better not be birdlime, Barney. Or so help me..." Oswaldo pretended to read, pointedly ignoring his patron saint.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/bungalow2.mp3 "This is plastique," Patricio explained, as though lecturing a museum tour. "In it is a radio detonator controlled by my associate in our airplane. If your associates inside..." he tapped the Mercedes, "...have any transmitting equipment with them, I should caution them against using it. This is a finicky device." robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) 7B0566FB-01A8-4D10-962C-37A76C63FA03 Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT no"This is plastique," Patricio explained, as though lecturing a museum tour. "In it is a radio detonator controlled by my associate in our airplane. If your associates inside..." he tapped the Mercedes, "...have any transmitting equipment with them, I shouRob Hunter"This is plastique," Patricio explained, as though lecturing a museum tour. "In it is a radio detonator controlled by my associate in our airplane. If your associates inside..." he tapped the Mercedes, "...have any transmitting equipment with them, I should caution them against using it. This is a finicky device."Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/bungalow3.mp3 Oswaldo O'Rourke y Nuñez prowled the night by the light of a moon three quarters full. He dressed in black. Many wore black—priests, hippies, country and western singers, but the blackening of the face was surely a mark of perpetration. Ozzie crouched to pray behind the big green dumpster in back of the Pick 'N' Pay—a futile prayer to a bogus saint, San Expedito. robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) A3DE2941-C8CB-405F-A442-B96865D51075 Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noOswaldo O'Rourke y Nuñez prowled the night by the light of a moon three quarters full. He dressed in black. Many wore black—priests, hippies, country and western singers, but the blackening of the face was surely a mark of perpetration. Ozzie crouched to Rob HunterOswaldo O'Rourke y Nuñez prowled the night by the light of a moon three quarters full. He dressed in black. Many wore black—priests, hippies, country and western singers, but the blackening of the face was surely a mark of perpetration. Ozzie crouched to pray behind the big green dumpster in back of the Pick 'N' Pay—a futile prayer to a bogus saint, San Expedito.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/bungalow4.mp3 It was a real nice laying-out, tasteful. Well, maybe not so much tasteful particularly, but neat. They'd got Ed's left arm attached to his head and not his shoulder. And they had the remaining right arm attached on the left side. To look like them, I supposed.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/mjBtoPxSVuU" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/platterland.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noIt was a real nice laying-out, tasteful. Well, maybe not so much tasteful particularly, but neat. They'd got Ed's left arm attached to his head and not his shoulder. And they had the remaining right arm attached on the left side. To look like them, I suppRob HunterIt was a real nice laying-out, tasteful. Well, maybe not so much tasteful particularly, but neat. They'd got Ed's left arm attached to his head and not his shoulder. And they had the remaining right arm attached on the left side. To look like them, I supposed.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/mjBtoPxSVuU/platterland.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/platterland.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/platterland.mp3 "YO, BABE!" a man's voice blared at Grenadine McKenzie, "SURPRISE, YOU'RE PREGNANT." The face digitized, fell apart, then reassembled itself. A line of empty pixels ran across a tanned chin. One eye twitched. "Gotta go. Kissy-kissy."<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/WowUqgMovX0" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/pluribus.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT no"YO, BABE!" a man's voice blared at Grenadine McKenzie, "SURPRISE, YOU'RE PREGNANT." The face digitized, fell apart, then reassembled itself. A line of empty pixels ran across a tanned chin. One eye twitched. "Gotta go. Kissy-kissy."Rob Hunter"YO, BABE!" a man's voice blared at Grenadine McKenzie, "SURPRISE, YOU'RE PREGNANT." The face digitized, fell apart, then reassembled itself. A line of empty pixels ran across a tanned chin. One eye twitched. "Gotta go. Kissy-kissy."Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/WowUqgMovX0/pluribus.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/pluribus.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/pluribus.mp3 There was a dead man in the yard this morning. I checked in my wallet for my latest picture of the front yard. I have a collection of yard pictures that goes back for years but I usually carry only one photo at a time. No, he was a new arrival. I called Sheila. Sheila is my ex-wife.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/1ux99iRIUsU" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/deadman.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noThere was a dead man in the yard this morning. I checked in my wallet for my latest picture of the front yard. I have a collection of yard pictures that goes back for years but I usually carry only one photo at a time. No, he was a new arrival. I called SRob HunterThere was a dead man in the yard this morning. I checked in my wallet for my latest picture of the front yard. I have a collection of yard pictures that goes back for years but I usually carry only one photo at a time. No, he was a new arrival. I called Sheila. Sheila is my ex-wife.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/1ux99iRIUsU/deadman.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/deadman.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/deadman.mp3 Lord Zorgon of Alymeade sighed, a great exhalation redolent of smoldering carpets. "Where was I? Facelifts, yes. Women, whatever their ages, never wish for sensible things like orthotics or a tonsillectomy."<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/TAQPj5--jfc" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/face.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noLord Zorgon of Alymeade sighed, a great exhalation redolent of smoldering carpets. "Where was I? Facelifts, yes. Women, whatever their ages, never wish for sensible things like orthotics or a tonsillectomy."Rob HunterLord Zorgon of Alymeade sighed, a great exhalation redolent of smoldering carpets. "Where was I? Facelifts, yes. Women, whatever their ages, never wish for sensible things like orthotics or a tonsillectomy."Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/TAQPj5--jfc/face.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/face.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/facelift.mp3 "I thought there was a special providence that looked out after these things," said Gerry. A ten-dollar jackpot dropped into the takeout drawer. "There is," said a voice. "And don't whack the machine, the lottery corporation doesn't favor muscleheads abusing church property."<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/YNPAchgqvDM" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/providence.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT no"I thought there was a special providence that looked out after these things," said Gerry. A ten-dollar jackpot dropped into the takeout drawer. "There is," said a voice. "And don't whack the machine, the lottery corporation doesn't favor muscleheads abusRob Hunter"I thought there was a special providence that looked out after these things," said Gerry. A ten-dollar jackpot dropped into the takeout drawer. "There is," said a voice. "And don't whack the machine, the lottery corporation doesn't favor muscleheads abusing church property."Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/YNPAchgqvDM/providence.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/providence.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/providence.mp3 Libby Pease remembers her girlhood as a litany of lost callers. Now a visitor: William Powell has misplaced Myrna Loy.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/LcBsScHaIvM" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/ninepatch.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noLibby Pease remembers her girlhood as a litany of lost callers. Now a visitor: William Powell has misplaced Myrna Loy.Rob HunterLibby Pease remembers her girlhood as a litany of lost callers. Now a visitor: William Powell has misplaced Myrna Loy.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/LcBsScHaIvM/ninepatch.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/ninepatch.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/ninepatch.mp3 Libby Pease accepts having her own personal shaman as an article of faith, which faith she could not tell. The dead Indian smells rank, but not unpleasantly so: fresh earth clinging to over-wintering vegetables, plug-cut tobacco and molasses. He wears a loincloth and is well muscled, albeit stringy.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/RZQIjcv0xY4" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/zones.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noLibby Pease accepts having her own personal shaman as an article of faith, which faith she could not tell. The dead Indian smells rank, but not unpleasantly so: fresh earth clinging to over-wintering vegetables, plug-cut tobacco and molasses. He wears a lRob HunterLibby Pease accepts having her own personal shaman as an article of faith, which faith she could not tell. The dead Indian smells rank, but not unpleasantly so: fresh earth clinging to over-wintering vegetables, plug-cut tobacco and molasses. He wears a loincloth and is well muscled, albeit stringy.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/RZQIjcv0xY4/zones.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/zones.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/zones.mp3 Prosper Epilegomenes is a mouse demon in service to Sminthian Apollo. He blows up a car dealership and kills a troublesome neighbor.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/CKrs2ZtuYuU" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/wheat.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noProsper Epilegomenes is a mouse demon in service to Sminthian Apollo. He blows up a car dealership and kills a troublesome neighbor.Rob HunterProsper Epilegomenes is a mouse demon in service to Sminthian Apollo. He blows up a car dealership and kills a troublesome neighbor.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/CKrs2ZtuYuU/wheat.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/wheat.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/wheat.mp3 Duckpin bowling in Taunton, Massachusetts. A duel over a magic hat sacred to Artemis, sister of Apollo.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/Y5UcK1toqwk" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/homburg.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noDuckpin bowling in Taunton, Massachusetts. A duel over a magic hat sacred to Artemis, sister of Apollo.Rob HunterDuckpin bowling in Taunton, Massachusetts. A duel over a magic hat sacred to Artemis, sister of Apollo.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/Y5UcK1toqwk/homburg.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/homburg.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/homburg.mp3 It was always Thursday in the Ferguson and McLaughlin Family Bar, Tables for Ladies, all Thursday, all the time. But this Thursday a different barmaid. "Hi, I'm Bambi. The Divine Artemis couldn't make it. The demiurges are chucking quoits today."<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/KwlWKsWxC10" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/fish.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noIt was always Thursday in the Ferguson and McLaughlin Family Bar, Tables for Ladies, all Thursday, all the time. But this Thursday a different barmaid. "Hi, I'm Bambi. The Divine Artemis couldn't make it. The demiurges are chucking quoits today."Rob HunterIt was always Thursday in the Ferguson and McLaughlin Family Bar, Tables for Ladies, all Thursday, all the time. But this Thursday a different barmaid. "Hi, I'm Bambi. The Divine Artemis couldn't make it. The demiurges are chucking quoits today."Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/KwlWKsWxC10/fish.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/fish.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/fish.mp3 Errol Flynn, aged 120, has been kept alive with hormones and organ transplants until 2025 for the last, final, remake of Kipling's Kim. It will be a musical.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/zyo6RgLRP_4" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/tabouli.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noErrol Flynn, aged 120, has been kept alive with hormones and organ transplants until 2025 for the last, final, remake of Kipling's Kim. It will be a musical.Rob HunterErrol Flynn, aged 120, has been kept alive with hormones and organ transplants until 2025 for the last, final, remake of Kipling's Kim. It will be a musical.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/zyo6RgLRP_4/tabouli.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/tabouli.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/tabouli.mp3 Twins play which kid's got the papers. Originally published as The Flags of All Nations Hors D'eouvre Toothpick Caper.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/eohpKIC0bG8" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/klein.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noTwins play which kid's got the papers. Originally published as The Flags of All Nations Hors D'eouvre Toothpick Caper.Rob HunterTwins play which kid's got the papers. Originally published as The Flags of All Nations Hors D'eouvre Toothpick Caper.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/eohpKIC0bG8/klein.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/klein.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/klein.mp3 His great green eyes invited her to share a secret knowledge, intimating she was trusted, but not yet ready for a full revelation. Her species would have to mature.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/ylVmY9RAv5A" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/tomcat.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noHis great green eyes invited her to share a secret knowledge, intimating she was trusted, but not yet ready for a full revelation. Her species would have to mature.Rob HunterHis great green eyes invited her to share a secret knowledge, intimating she was trusted, but not yet ready for a full revelation. Her species would have to mature.Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/ylVmY9RAv5A/tomcat.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/tomcat.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/tomcat.mp3 Hillary pushed the platter of cookies across the center line back to Sally’s side. “We went the Lysistrata route―Aristophanes? Withholding sex, that got their attention. First we tried threats and confrontations about those things they will keep on dragging home to bury in the yard―the boys can’t recall anything of their midnight rambles or so they say. Dear, please don’t let your mouth hang open like that.”<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~4/gmOhaGxNq-I" height="1" width="1"/> robhunter@onetinleg.com (Rob Hunter) http://www.onetinleg.com/boysnight.htm Sat, 10 Apr 2010 11:26:49 GMT noHillary pushed the platter of cookies across the center line back to Sally’s side. “We went the Lysistrata route―Aristophanes? Withholding sex, that got their attention. First we tried threats and confrontations about those things they will keep on draggiRob HunterHillary pushed the platter of cookies across the center line back to Sally’s side. “We went the Lysistrata route―Aristophanes? Withholding sex, that got their attention. First we tried threats and confrontations about those things they will keep on dragging home to bury in the yard―the boys can’t recall anything of their midnight rambles or so they say. Dear, please don’t let your mouth hang open like that.”Rob,Hunter,Robert,Hunter,Short,Stories,Literature,Fantasy,Speculative,Speculative,Fiction,Slipstream,Magical,Realism,Science,Fiction,Fictionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OnetinlegMp3Downloads/~3/gmOhaGxNq-I/boysnight.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/boysnight.htmhttp://www.onetinleg.com/podsafe/boysnight.mp3 en-usRob Hunternonadult