It was 1918. Grandpa loved his 9 grandchildren, but the Flu was deadly, so whenever a grandchild approached, he held up his hand, and shouted, “Hey!”
His grandkids still loved him, but they never hugged.
They started calling him “Heypappy”, and that’s how it was for his remaining 25 years.
Harry Demarest wrote this true story about his great grandfather, Franklin Conklin.
Sometimes I get an idea at 2:00 in the morning, and I have to write it down or else I’ll forget it.
That happens to other people, too.
When it happens to me, I have to sleep late on the weekends.
And that is the real reason I don’t exercise.
Michael practices law in the Bronx, writes short stories on the side, and has been published in Fiction On The Web.
I give him a teddy bear and tell him it will keep him company, someone to talk to, while I work.
He returns him minutes later, saying the bear won’t stop talking about scratching his bum on trees and digging for bugs.
Such is life in quarantine with my husband.
Sharon Gerger loves to write and play more than she likes to work.
A much-published academic,
Prof. Dennis Wrong was quite a guy.
Filled with truly shrewd polemic,
his several books rank pretty high.
Now this would be all well and fine
but for one point adamantine:
It was for years good ol’ Den’s plight
to be called Wrong though always right.
Author’s Note: Dennis Wrong (1923-2018) was a widely acclaimed NYU sociologist.
George J. Searles teaches English and Latin at Mohawk Valley Community College and has also taught for Pratt and The New School. The editor of Glimpse, a poetry magazine, he has published many poems in other small quarterlies, along with three volumes of literary criticism from university presses and eight editions of a widely used communications textbook. He is a former Carnegie Foundation New York State “Professor of the Year.”
The philosopher awoke with a start, lifting his head from the coffee table. He had been dreaming that he was an open-faced peanut butter sandwich with an exhausted drug addict passed out on him.
He peeled the peanut-buttered bread from his cheek.
Who’s to say which reality was a dream?
Adri Persad is from West Virginia, and pursues interests in writing, engineering, fitness, and general grousing. You can follow him on Twitter @36_chambuhz.
He’s not as smart as his haircut, nor sharp as his suit, and nowhere near as polished as his shoes. “Bright” would have to be on a triple word score before someone used it about him, but times are tough so you smile and say, “Very droll, sir, very droll.”
Tom O’Brien is an Irishman living in London. He has words on many websites and in several print anthologies. His novella Straw Gods will be published by Reflex Press this year.
I look at the empty street, spot one lonely dog trotting along the sidewalk, its leash attached to a drone, and tear a page off my calendar without bothering to look. It’s still today: each hour, each event being torn off the toilet paper roll that has become our life.
Eileen is retired from working for others, now a full time Grandma and a part time writer of poetry and flash fiction.
She entered the hospital room where her husband lay, his eyes bandaged from his accident at work. As she sat beside his bed, he took her hand in his. “Well!” she thought, pleasantly surprised. “He hasn’t been this affectionate in years!” She began talking.
Then he exclaimed, “Oh, it’s you!”
Thomas A. North avoids marital troubles the easy way: by remaining a bachelor. This story has appeared at itrhymesattimes.wordpress.com.
A man walks into a bar. The bartender says, “Is this a joke?” The man replies, “No, it’s purely an imaginary situation because we are currently under strict orders to stay at home as much as possible and practise social distancing in order to prevent the spread of the coronavirus.”
Daniel Rogers hopes everyone is safe and keeping boredom at bay.
My roomie’s rules while isolating:
W̶a̶s̶h̶ h̶a̶n̶d̶s̶ a̶f̶t̶e̶r̶ t̶o̶u̶c̶h̶i̶n̶g̶. Don’t touch.
Keep your distance.
Stock up on essentials (food, milk, etc.).
Get plenty of rest.
Just as I think I have it all down, I violate rule one, nursing my hand.
Her only defense was a slow and calculated “meoooww”.
Lisa Chambers is a Texas girl whose cats thankfully aren’t like the one in this story.