The man used to chastise the dog for drinking from scummy puddles beside the road.
That extra-hard leash-yank was what returned to him after the water was gone, when he and the dog both lapped at rare graces of liquid, the man’s knees muddied.
Eventually, the dog had to go.
Evan McMurry’s fiction has been published in more than one dozen journals, including Post Road, Euphony, Arcturus, Oddville Press, Lotus-Eater Magazine, Palaver, Mulberry Fork Review, and more. His story “Nothing Kinky” won the New Millennium Fiction Prize, and his story “Nixon in Heaven” won Exposition Review’s Flash Fiction contest. “The Fall of Rabbi Gold” was selected as a finalist for the Al-Simāk Award for Fiction from the Chicago Review of Books.
“What is this colorless swill? Offensively bland tonic; completely odorless. I’ve had my eye on you. I know you despise me. What are you playing at, giving me this vile, mundane concoction? I demand answers! Is it arsenic? Are you trying to poison me, sir?”
“Go home, Sam. You’re drunk!”
Anita Roberts Soupir lives in rural North Dakota. She is a freelance writer and owner of the cooking blog theunabashedkitchenwench.blogspot.com. She is also a member of Scribophile.com and CritiqueCircle.com. Her latest project, Don’t Trifle With Me, is the first in a series of 6 books called The Dessert Club.
Water is my favourite drink
I sure find it delicious
If some old bad guy stole it all
I’d find it quite malicious
What would we do?
Where would we go?
We’d get so dehydrated
That’s why I built this reservoir
And sat down here
My lifestyle’s underrated
There once was a terrifying beast with shaggy hair and pointed teeth.
A pure-hearted village child possessed a magical cup. It always flowed with water, no matter how much you drank from it.
The child gave the cup to the beast, which devoured it.
Now the beast can’t stop peeing.
This story was based on a title provided by @DewMan001.
Valerie the vegan decided to spend a week eating nothing but baby carrots and drinking nothing but water.
After one day she felt funny.
After three days she felt strange.
After five days she felt weird.
After seven days she felt… orange.
That evening, while she was sleeping, she sprouted.
Twelve days had passed since my enemies’ arrival, each day spent cowering in fear under a mossy overhang as projectiles exploded left and right. Brokenness and waste were all around me.
Today, I would fight back. I felt my weapon’s comforting heft, stepped out, and soaked my cousin so bad.