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Coasting-Fiction by Kenneth James Crist
Death Orchid-Fiction by j. brooke
Orange Bikini-Fiction by Maria Espinosa
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Losing Eileen-Fiction by Marci McKim
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My Heart Will Always Be Yours-Fiction by Jon Park
Unicorn-Fiction by Rob Dominelli
Call Girls-Flash Fiction by Gay Degani
Hollywood Harry's bar and Grill-Flash Fiction by Fred Zackel
Grandmother Nightmare-Flash Fiction by Rick McQuiston
Death Row-Flash Fiction by Luann Lewis
The Jarvis and Mae Team-Flash Fiction by Paul Beckman
Flying Away-Flash Fiction by Jerry Vilhotti
A Note for Alex Gildzen-Poem by Mark Young
Spoiled-Poem by Chad Haskins
Recognized-Poem by Michael Keshigian
the only goodbye he deserved-Poem by J. J. Campbell
Dropping the Ball-Poem by Ian Mullins
A Song of Vengeance-Poem by Christopher Hivner
A Slip of the Tongue-Poem by Robert Halleck
Again the 11th Hour-Poem by Robert Halleck
Jack-Poem by Judith Partin-Nielsen
singles ad Westwood Magazine-Poem by Judith Partin-Nielsen
Love is all-Poem by Meg Baird
Travelling-Poem by Meg Baird
Roxyanna-Poem by David Spicer
Wanted-Poem by David Spicer
Whataya Say?-Poem by David Spicer
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Hail, Tiger!
Angel of Manslaughter
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No Place Like Home
ALAT
Dark Tales from Gent's Pens

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Art by Bryan Cicalese 2018

The Jarvis and Mae Team

by Paul Beckman

 

Jarvis left early, skipping his breakfast coffee.

Mae took the bucket of cleaning supplies into the bathroom and began scrubbing. Two hours on the bathtub alone, and extra on the spigot and faucets. After the bathroom sin,k she ate some milk crackers and drank a beer.

She finished the sink in minutes, since there were only spots of spray and not layers like the tub. She started on the tile floor, had another beer, and then on the grout, which took three toothbrushes and a couple of hours.

When Mae finished, she saw a couple of sprays on the tile wall and got those off in no time.

After putting the cleaning bucket back, she set about making dinner for Jarvis. He always liked comfort food after a job, and she made a damned fine stew, if she said so, herself.

At eight he showed up with the banker all trussed-up and duct-taped. Jarvis tossed him in the tub, saying dinner first.

Mae wished he wouldn’t bring his work home with him, and that he lay more plastic down, but she said nothing and watched a little TV, while Jarvis was busy hacking away.

 

In his younger years Paul Beckman was a numbers runner, a fence, and hung around with the bad crowd. He still hangs with a dubious crowd.

In Association with Black Petals & Fossil Publications 2017