The supermodel had a taste for ugly men of a certain age. She didn’t care if they were rich or poor, as long as they were ugly. In public places this always caused stares, stares of amazement, stares of confusion, stares of disgust. Sometimes people would actually shout things at her and her date. This time, a guy yelled, “Come on babe, lose the eyesore and I’ll show you a good time.” She looked at the guy. She found him kind of attractive, but not quite ugly enough and way too young.
* * *
The sadist cut into his nice, juicy steak. When it didn’t scream, he lost interest.
* * *
“You listen to me even less than I listen to you,” he told her.
* * *
The waiter brought me my coffee and a folded note. I smiled and thanked him. I took a small sip of coffee and then opened the note. It said, “Your coffee has been poisoned. Even the smallest sip may prove fatal.” I was frozen with fear, but I managed to motion to the waiter.
“Yes, sir?”
“Take a look at this note.”
He looked. “Oh, please forgive me,” he said. “This was meant for another table.”
* * *
The sun looked down on the moon. Eamonn Flaherty looked down on Thomas O’Neill. A little boy looked up at his mother and saw only scorn.
* * *
“A fork is like a quatrain,” the poet said.
“Very nice,” his mother said. “Now shut up and eat your pot roast.”
* * *
He got a facelift in Gstaad, on a whim. When he returned home, he was taken into custody. The immigration agents beat him brutally until his face once again matched his passport photo.
Peter Cherches’ latest book, Everything Happens to Me, is winner of the 2025 Next Generation Indie Book Award for Humor/Comedy.
Image: AimeeLow, morguefile.com
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Heavy Feather Review 