A Rain of Frogs

Lost in Willipaq

The trade paperback. Click here to buy from the author. Click here to buy from Amazon.com. Lost in Willipaq is also available as a free eBook download: Adobe .pdf  ePub  Kindle compatible (Mobipocket .prc)

Lost in Willipaq, the first compilation of the Tales of Onetinleg.com. Fourteen stories and two (2) novellas. 256 pages in the print version. The current world-wide financial embarrassment has thinned the ranks of publishers—in the case of speculative fiction, never overcrowded. So I’m giving it away. The e-book, that is. Lost in Willipaq the trade paperback is available online, check at the usual suspects. Meanwhile, here’s a free download: the whole 256 pages, wrapped up in a Kindle-friendly package. Plays on MobiPocket, too. Wow.

A Pass on the Tabouli

Errol Flynn, aged 120, has been kept alive with hormones and organ transplants until 2025 for the last, final, remake of Kipling’s Kim. It will be a musical.

Boys’ Night Out

Sally Schofield was new to Sur la Mer and with the soccer mom’s requisite formula family: minivan, flaxen-haired children only moderately overweight, large hairy dog, large hairy husband with pattern baldness. The invitation was for cookies and conversation. It had been Hillary Braunstein's turn to break the news.

Scope Virgin

The woman at the far end of the kaleidoscope had not been there last week, of this Simon was sure. She was naked or near enough, thinly dressed in a diaphanous veil that left little to the imagination.

The Red Sneaker Zones

Libby Pease accepts having her own personal shaman as an article of faith, which faith she could not tell. The dead Indian smells rank, but not unpleasantly so―fresh earth clinging to over-wintering vegetables, plug-cut tobacco and molasses.

The Ninepatch Variation

Libby Pease remembers her girlhood as a litany of lost callers. First the iceman stops his deliveries, then the coal truck stops coming to the Pease house. Now a visitor: William Powell has misplaced Myrna Loy.

The Song of the Rice Barge Coolie

“My sister, is she dead? Go and give her a poke, would you?” The great white presence that was the Lady Mother of the Long Walkers indicated the row of captive queens on their dais beneath her, deferentially lower.

Klein, the Clone

twins play which kid’s got the papers. Originally published as The Flags of All Nations Hors D’eouvre Toothpick Caper.

E Pluribus Human

“YO, BABE!” a man’s voice blared at Grenadine McKenzie, “SURPRISE, YOU’RE PREGNANT.” The face digitized, fell apart, then reassembled itself. A line of empty pixels ran across a tanned chin. One eye twitched. “Gotta go. Kissy-kissy.”

Dead Man in the Yard

There was a dead man in the yard this morning. I checked in my wallet for my latest picture of the front yard. I have a collection of yard pictures that goes back for years but I usually carry only one photo at a time. No, he was a new arrival. I called Sheila. Sheila is my ex-wife.

Facelift

Lord Zorgon of Alymeade sighed, a great exhalation redolent of smoldering carpets. “Where was I? Facelifts, yes. Women, whatever their ages, never wish for sensible things like orthotics or a tonsillectomy.”

Plus three more tales and two novellas:

The Runaway Bungalow and

The Year They Invented Frozen Lemonade.