New flash: “Fur Pockets” by Michael Chaney
Ladies and gentleman, herewith my offering to the latest, coolest issue of Storm Cellar. “Fur Pockets” is part flash, part prose poem, and all subcutaneous, stalagmitic semiotic.
Sometimes everything goes wrong in the right sort of way, the busted pieces too magic to tidy up properly. Michael Chaney’s flash fiction “Fur Pockets” [pdf] might fit that description, all sinister gloves and tangerine peels in the pockets of a lab coat.
Once, after the mouse exploded the cat’s eyeballs and fricasseed its tail on a spit in hell, cartoons moralized senselessly. Orco was wrong because he lied says He-Man. Look both ways before you cross says the marine toting an unmounted M-60 machine gun. They wanted us clean.
So different from those hippies in the painted van who never went to school, changed clothes, or said boo about a parent, who chased that gigantic wraith throughout the castle thinking their dog could talk and Velma ordinary. She discovers the wraith inside.…[keep reading]