No Entry

This story will appear in Holly’s anthology In Poor Taste, due out in 2018!

“This ticket is valid. I bought it weeks ago. Let me in,” said Flip.

The troll on guard shook his head. “You’re on the list.”

“What list?”

“The list. You’re not allowed inside.”

It was the worst thing a trickster could hear; it was more painful than the terrible “I know your real name!“, and even more painful than “I’m sorry, she didn’t make it.” Being barred from the Convention was worse than having a piece of his soul chewed off by a demon.

“But why?” Flip demanded. He paid his dues to the fairy society every month. He met his yearly magic quota. His wings were regulation glittered and he had brought a bottle of baby tears for the Ghoul. What could possibly have landed him on the list?

“Says here you’re not funny,” said the guard.


“Says you cost the Convention too much money on cleanup last year. There’s a note here. Tell Flip that blowing up a line of port-a-potties does not count as a prank.

“Who said that?” Flip demanded. “Of course it’s a prank. It was a commentary on the state of the Trickster economy. There was crap everywhere. It was hilarious!”

“No entry,” said the guard.

“I want to talk to your superior! I’m the funniest Trickster in the community. You can’t do this to me!”

“Get over yourself, Flip,” said the next in line. Flip whirled to face the leprechaun and shoved a finger in his face.

“Say that again, I dare you!” Flip said.

Get over yourself. You’re not funny and everyone knows it. You’ve never once tricked a human into anything useful. How many babies have you stolen?” The leprechaun smirked at Flip’s silence. “There, you see? Useless.”

“Shut your stupid face, O’Kenny!”

“Or what, you’ll make me?”


“Let’s go!”

“That’s enough,” said the guard. “No entry, fairy. Turn around and go home.”

Flip couldn’t miss the Convention. On the eve of March 31 all the Tricksters got ridiculously drunk together and spent April Fool’s wreaking havoc on humanity. It was the best day of the year. What would he do tomorrow without the company of his people?

Flip shed a single sparkling tear.

“Hah! Got you,” said the guard.


“April Fool’s, fairy. Tricksters aren’t the only ones with a sense of humour.” The guard stepped back to let Flip pass.

On that day, Flip learned a new respect for troll kind.

He also tripped O’Kenny right into a port-a-potty for revenge, so his self-growth was offset and he learned nothing.

Meat Pi

This story will appear in Holly’s anthology The Little Book of Inappropriate Morals, due out in 2017!

It’s March 14, and you know what that means!



Upon returning home, little Jimmy was greeted with a delectable aroma. He followed his nose to the kitchen, where his father was pulling something out of the oven.

“Did you have fun playing with your friends?” Dad asked.

“Yup! What’s for lunch?”

“Well Jimmy, March the fourteenth is Pi Day, so we’re having pie.”

“What’s Pi Day?” Jimmy asked.

“Pi is a significant number, and on Pi Day, we celebrate math,” Dad said.

“Aw, not math,” said Jimmy.

“Math is important in your everyday life, son. Take this pie, for instance. If I didn’t know my math, I wouldn’t have been able to measure the ingredients correctly and we wouldn’t be having this delicious lunch.” Dad served Jimmy a slice of the pie, and Jimmy had to admit that the meaty scent made math more appealing.

“Okay, aside from pie, how’s math going to help me?” Jimmy asked.

“Imagine you’re surrounded by ten humans. Five have crossbows and five have swords. What is the minimum number of each you need to stomp before they run away?”

“Gee, I dunno,” Jimmy said.

“You multiply the number of crossbows by the number of swords, and divide by the number of humans. In this case, you crush two of them to death and you crush another lower half, and they run away screaming.”

“Cool,” Jimmy said.

“Math is extremely important for a working ogre. You can determine the number of crossbow bolts you can safely take to the shoulder based on your weight and there’s even a way to calculate degrees of annihilation to a human village.”

“Wow, Dad! Math is cool!”

“That’s right, Jimmy, so pay attention in school.” Dad patted Jimmy’s bumpy head.

“Do humans use math?” Jimmy asked.

“If they do, they’re using it wrong, otherwise they wouldn’t be in the pie,” Dad said.

“How many humans did you use?”

Dad chuckled. “Three point one four, of course.”

While Dad explained the joke, Jimmy ate delicious Human Meat Pie, and they had the best Pi Day ever.

Smellton’s Nightmare

This story will appear in Holly’s anthology In Poor Taste, due out in 2018!

It’s Groundhog Day, time to celebrate with some fiction.



Smellton had never been able to emerge from hibernation without a hassle. He knew a few ‘hogs who could open their eyes and start chattering a happy tune, but not Smellton. He had to roll himself out of bed and breathe in some of the spring air up top before he could even think about being awake.

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Happy Hollydays! Now Available

A Collection of Celebratory Poppycock



Whether it’s the guardian dog of the underworld, or a massive beast waiting to eat you, you have to know that a big black dog is bad news on Halloween. What you might not have realized is that Hades is a reasonable guy, and rabbits don’t, in fact, wear scarves.

Valentine’s Day isn’t just for romance; it’s also for summoning your favourite demons. Christmas is a time for family, but it’s also a time for exploring alternate origins of Santa Claus and a time for reindeer to learn about morality. Oh, and cookies. It’s time for a buttload of cookies.

Traditional Halloween horrors and Christmas joy are mixed with April Fool’s jokes and Christmas murder (among other things) to produce this collection of short stories sure to make you thankful for your own less outrageous traditions.

Beyond Brotherly

This is from Microcosms. The challenge was to use the last line from a famous novel as the first line of the story; and how could I resist a line from 1984?

Please enjoy.



He loved Big Brother.

For so long George had insisted that his love was a brotherly love, but in the night lights of Paris, he could no longer ignore the true feelings of his heart.

“That’s gross, man,” Julia said.

“What? Why?”

“Dude. You’re in love with your brother.”

“No, not my big brother! His name is Big Brother. His parents are…” What was the word for rich people who’d lost it? “…eccentric.”

“That’s a relief. Your big brother is a total jerk.”

George sighed. Julia was a dear friend, but she was terrible at listening to confessions. He had planned on escaping to Paris with his best friend Dave, but he had broken his leg. George considered that a very insensitive move.

“I came to Paris to get away from my problems, but he’s here. I’m in love with Big Brother.”

“Cool,” Julia said.

“No, you don’t understand. I’m in love with Big Brother. What should I do?”

A gasp behind George forced him to turn around.

“Big Brother!” George cried. “What are you doing here?”

“I was having a drink with my big brother, Little Brother.”

“Seriously?” said Julia, but the others could not hear her.

“Is it true? Do you love me?” Big Brother asked.

“I do! I love you, Big Brother, with a love that is beyond brotherly!”

“I have waited so long to hear those words! Come into my arms, George, so that I may kiss you long into the night! Come, while the romance of Paris is all around us!”

“You have made me so happy! I will love you until the end of my days!” George exclaimed.

The happy couple proceeded to make out in the street.

Julia, abandoned by her trip mate, rolled her eyes.

“Oh, brother,” she said.




From Micro Bookends.



“Blueberry, blueberry, blueberry.”

“What are you doing?” J.P. asked.

“Studying,” Jason said.

“With fruit?”

“It’s that thing where you use letters and words to remember details.”

“Is it working?”

“Nope. It just made me want pie.”

J.P. had never thought pie was a luxury. He had also assumed that he would be married with kids by now, and thankfully that hadn’t happened.

When J.P. finished school they would buy so much pie. Right after they fixed the house and bought some new clothes.

“You’ll do fine. You always do,” J.P. said. Jason’s smile lit up the room and reduced the mountain of the problems to a manageable hill.