BEAUTIFUL IGNORANCE by Philip Nobert
Once there was a guy, let’s call him shit. You are what you eat.

TED'S WAFFLE HABIT By Philip Nobert
There were stars. There were stripes. This much we knew. A lesser known was the stupor-driven guy with the itchy trigger. Oh he was always there, consuming the mediocrity. But then he met a sweet, sweet lady and for giggles, left the building. Ricky would've been pissed. But then Ricky drew sea lions for the sake of it...what the hell?




THE ADVANTAGE OF BEING BLUE by Philip Nobert
“The yellow seems to hurl itself from the canvas and attack the eyes with so much intention. Almost as if it’s trying to tell us something.” Saul said, to the nearby paintings and sculptures. Saul fancied himself fancy. Poor Saul. For a Janitor, however, he had really nice shoes.



PREACHER POLITICS by Philip Nobert
The slim line between love and hate seemed to cross wires with Charlie’s apathy for small wooden creatures, the kind, while jostling with an acorn or a filbert, seemed unnecessarily shell-shocked by the random rustling of leaves. Self-preservation had its price, even in the forest.



TELLING by Philip Nobert
What she didn’t know for sure was that the men in her life weren’t ever really, truly, actually, in her life.



GINNY LOVES GIN by Philip Nobert
It wasn’t so much the crying, though admittedly it didn’t help matters, no, it was more the pithy self-absorbance that seemed to fire-off, in autopilot, the moment before the applause. She was rather great in a greater good sort of way, and she knew it.



BLEEPO THE CLOWN by Philip Nobert
Clowns are funny. The painted face. The goofed hair. A prop or two. Funny. That’s always sort of been the point. But then there’s that other frequency. Whoever decided clowns are scary should be ripped in half by puppies.



AUTISM HIJINX by Philip Nobert
“Show me a day when Bruno Magli no longer matters and I’ll hoist a single malt in your direction!” Benny offered, against leers of woodsy malcontent. This was steel-toed country and Ben was a waif amongst men with blisters and scars….and trucks and guns. A truth Benny was only beginning to comprehend. But oh, the night was still young on this Alabama Tuesday and the jukebox had Waylon Jennings for days.



COLD DAY IN JULY by Philip Nobert
“Pithy! Pithy! Pithy!” She used the word with a flagrant deference to nothing in particular. Like all women, it was a buck-oh-six outside, and she was sporting a sweater. Never really understood that.



MIRRORS by Philip Nobert
Avant Garde was the flavor of the month and as Roy’s ’95 Pontiac Grand Am, the green one with the cool spoiler, raced him to his teller job at Wells Fargo, he smothered eye-liner in all the right places. “I’m gonna sell some jumbo mortgages today.” He thought. Then he drove. Somewhere, Ian Curtis was laughing.



THE TRUTH ABOUT TULIPS by Philip Nobert
“This is just an observation but the more attention you give to miscreants the greater the probability your shields will be destroyed by level three. It’s all about the defenses Jimmy.” The guileless stare on little Jimmy’s face reaffirmed for Alan that perhaps Psychiatry wasn’t Alan’s chosen path in life.



ZARTON by Philip Nobert
When the aliens watch us from afar one can only surmise the unexpurgated greatness they place upon themselves against the witless display of compromised humanity they observe. So then, the decision to conquer earth smacked with the relative ease of deciding which soup to order at the diner. Split Pea please, thanks.