Facebook Popup Widget
The Scum Gentry Alternative Arts and Media.
The Scum Gentry Prose Desk: literary magazines and writing websites hub: literary fiction, horror stories, weird fiction and more...

Le son De - Short Story by Jim Meirose

Doctor Sax sat waiting for Stannie with four and a half minutes to go. Idly he sat watching the fast ping-pong game his apprehension regarding this lesson had conjured to distract him. Identical faceless players volleyed the ball super-intensely so that it could not be seen even as a blur, but only as nothing at all. The super-speedy ping-pong paddles driving this phenomenon necessarily vanished from view as well and in moments the players themselves realized they had been playing so well that the point had been reached where the game had been played so perfectly that it had reached a level of perfection beyond the maximum a ping-pong game could ever be, so; since they had played the game completely out of existence, they dropped their arms, stepped away, and, there being no further reason for a ping-pong table to be present in the Sax music studio, they folded up the unused table and stowed it back into Doc Sax’s imagination then without a word they too followed in behind the table, but—the ping-pong ball and the ping-pong paddles slowed and reappeared in midair and fell to the floor in the dead center of the perfectly square throw rug, at the exact instant that a knock came at the door, the latch clicked open, and there stood Stannie the SaxMan dragging his big black sax bag heavily behind—even as Doc Sax marveled at the rip in something—space and time or time and space or probably something else entirely—Stannie cried out across his large Hello, swung the sax bag over onto his chair, and pointed to the paddles and ball.

Like ping-pong, Doc? Who you been playing...


Dumpster RabbittZ part two - Fiction Serial by Bryan Higby and Ricky D. Snyder

Read Part One Here

Chapter Two

Rob Wash removed a joint from between his thick brown lips as he ran one calloused hand through his graying nappy hair watching those two fellas, John Friend and the local DJ cat, Randy Bliss, push open the front door to The Bateman. It wasn’t often that Rob lit the weed inside but tonight his arthritis was acting up something furious. He was going to need a toke or three off that strong weed to finish mopping the lobby floor. He watched the two white dudes waiting at the elevator, took two puffs off the joint and then replaced it in the brim of his beat-up old Fedora. Following this, Rob lifted the mop from the bucket, dropping it into the ringer. Squishing out the excess water he dropped the mop head onto the black and white checkered lobby tiles, feeling the pain in his joints go mad on him.

“Hey,” Randy said when he saw Rob mopping.

Rob grunted. He didn’t care much for the guy’s bright colored sweaters and white boy afro. Maybe it was a built-in hatred...


Larva from the Flames - Short Story by Kenneth Nolan

The beginning of April and a hint of good weather had begun to appear. Springtime has arrived I thought to myself and a lightening of the mood struck me. According to all predictions a beautiful summer lay ahead. I felt my energy levels rise as day after day of glorious sunshine passed. All one needed at this time was a long prayed for gift from the Gods to set the ball rolling for the shiny weeks to come.

I answered a heavy knock at the front door early one morning to be greeted by a man in a horrible brown uniform holding a large white container. I tried to contain my excitement as I realized there was only one delivery I was possibly expecting from U.P.S. As I noticed the South American stamp on the waybill, my soul leapt with excitement. My Bolivian Red Maggots had arrived! I called The Nailbar and gave him instructions to come over immediately.

“You’re fucking joking!” he said, as I gave him the information for the fifth time.

“You’ve got the Bolivian Reds?”

“Yes now get yourself over here and we’ll take a look.”

I felt an overwhelming excitement as I opened the container, there they were fifty Bolivian Reds looking as evil and ruthless as a gang of Finglas teenagers. I already had the cocoons of the other most revered Maggot in the world, The Vietnamese Steamer Maggot, Asia’s finest...


Next Page

Facebook Link