101-Word Stupor — Frog Love
Keywords: Counterfeit, Frog, Dirigible “I ain’t no good, Clara,” one frog says to the other. “I only got one leg, and the other’s all busted up. That chef in Louisiana… he almost got me. I watched my own leg get beer-battered. Christ. I’m drunk on tree sap most the time, lettin’ teenage humans lick my back so they’ll get higher than a… whatcha call it? Di-rig-ible? I sell counterfeit fireflies to tourist frogs, sprinklin’ glitter on houseflies’ wings to make them sparkle. Hell, Clara. I gotta make a livin’. Go find...
Read More101-Word Stupor — The Eskimo Under My Bed
Keywords: Clarinet, Wrestling, Eskimo There’s an Eskimo under my bed. No, don’t peek; he hates that. Every night I put on my jammies then lull him to sleep with my clarinet (“Ode to Joy” — he loves that one). Mommy thinks I’m practicing for music class. Sometimes I hear him sobbing; he misses the taste of baby seal. Well, I’ve never seen one at school or on my paper route, and my encyclopedia says they’re slippery. The idea of wrestling one? Gross. Yesterday I fed him tuna and said it was baby seal. But he knew the difference. I mean, come on,...
Read More101-Word Stupor — Salt Lick
Keywords: Bagel, Optometrist, District Life sucks. One minute you’re fleeing the Hand of God, the next you’re a pillar of salt. I’d turned to check out the fun bags on Lot’s wife, caught a glimpse of the city and Bam! Salt. Now the wind blows through the woman’s salted face; It takes her nose and eyes until her head looks like a bagel. I think they were siblings, but I don’t judge. I’m from Sodom after all; middle-class district. Optometrist, married to three goats, a horse named Wilma, a de-toothed camel and— Uh-oh. Stay away from me Wilma....
Read More101-Word Stupor — "A Good Human Spoiled"
Keywords: Marmalade, Potent, Hypnotic No, I’m not spoiling her. It’s called love. It’s not like your kid is any… Okay, yes, my pooky gets frisky with her pet humans. She named the first one Marmalade. Fitting since it went splat underneath my shoe. The second one lasted longer (thank goodness, considering what they cost), then it fell into some potent corn liquor, buoyed about in a hypnotic stupor, and pop! its bladder burst. I made pooky clean up the— Oh, piss off! She told me about your little monster… biting the heads off her humans; making them have sex with each...
Read More101-Word Stupor — The Tell-Tale Toe Tag
Keywords: Fungus, Pencil, Brazilian “Uh, no I wasn’t.” “Yes, you were. It’s pretty obvious.” “They were brought in like that.” “With their sheets off? And why just the pretty ones? Why not Mrs. Pencil in the Eye, Miss Botched Autopsy, or Miss Dragged from the Lake fungus thighs?” “Here, check out this toe tag.” “On Miss Brazilian bikini wax?” “Yeah. It says ‘Please take my sheet off.’” “That’s written in black ink.” “Uh-huh.” “It’s fresh...
Read More101-Word Stupor — Guaranteeing my Palatial Estate in Hell With Just 101 Words
Keywords: Bologna, Crater, Abstain God munches a bologna sandwich. That’s all she packed him. It’s the sixth day and he’s tired. Creativity hangover. Every crater filled, ready for populating. Time to make Man. This time will be different. He won’t interfere. He’ll abstain. And he’ll make them all the same color: Green. He once saw this Star Trek that—Naw. He’s got a “thing” for Asians. And his son is black. Fine. But how to keep them from fighting? Compromise. Give them all the same genitalia. Give them springy vertebrae so their mouths...
Read More101-Word Stupor — On the Barbie
Keywords: Ink, Hamburger, Koala The koalas know the Outback; they know to stay away. Chester sniffs and raises one paw, halting his army. They see the koala’s face: hamburger. Bulbs blink in the alley and showcase the others. Tommy vomits; Chester slaps him. One of the bodies coughs and spasms, its blood puddling like ink from a toppled blotter. Still alive… Chester doesn’t think; he runs. “Where’s Joey?” he asks. “Where’s my boy?” Two pulpy eyes drift toward the alley door. Time to show these bastards that koalas aren’t just cute,...
Read More101-Word Stupor — The Rat
Keywords: Umbrella, Inebriated, Carousel It hides beneath the carousel, beneath the motorized whir of circular steeds. Its beady eyes blink into the rain beyond. Thunder rumbles; the children scatter. It sticks out its head and sniffs the electric twilight, whiskers dancing. Then it emerges, skitters past a fallen umbrella, through the moonlit fairgrounds, and into a downed garbage can. Soon it’s inebriated from the stale beer left sitting in discarded carnival cups. A predatory rumble fills its chest. The world fades and it regrets every loss: its wife, its home, its job, its...
Read More101-Word Stupor — Splenda in the Glass
Keywords: Gobble, Milk, September It’s a cold September morning, and the barista fills your personalized Lady Gaga mug with coffee. I hate you. Oh, yeah, hi. Smile and nod. No. Not the daily ritual… Don’t cozy up to the condiment station like a goddamned chemist. Just pour the milk and—Stop shaking the Splenda packet! You’ve loosened the granules enough. Rip the packet open and—Stop it! Why do you keep doing that? No, don’t gobble up your scone now. Jesus. Chew once in a—Stop it! I notice a guy staring at me, typing on his laptop. Hey! Is he blogging...
Read More101-Word Stupor — Bending Metal
Keywords: buckshot, biped, skull Shh. Be very quiet. My job is to kill talking rabbits. Hey, there’s a big one! A biped, even. I give chase until it dives into a hole. I want to yell, but my speech impediment, you see… It’s embarrassing. I thrust my double-barreled shotgun into the rabbit’s home. As I do, something emerges from the hole behind me. Even with my doctorate in physics, I don’t make the connection. “Got you now!” I fire the gun. Buckshot sprays from both barrels, dislodging half my skull. My prey chomps a carrot, smiles and asks me...
Read MoreRogue’s Curse Giveaway
Goodreads Book Giveaway
Rogue's Curse
by Jason Beymer
Giveaway ends January 27, 2012.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.
About Me
A permanent fixture at his local coffeehouse, Jason Beymer hunches over his laptop in a caffeine-induced frenzy, jowls slick with muse. He injects comedy into the urban and traditional fantasy genres like a squeeze of lemon into ice water: tart, yet refreshing. When not pounding on his keyboard, Jason worships at the feet of Ray Bradbury, and engages in an unhealthy obsession with Grace Park and Tricia Helfer.
