(Author’s Note: This story was conceived when politics in the U.S. went especially sour in 2016. It’s all my fury over what happened. This is a story for those looking to defeat and escape the smothering presence of one particular flopping sack of curdled capitalist cream and microwaved id. I fight him the only way I can, with fairies in human-sized mechs. Enjoy…)
(NEW)(Ladyspiller): Hey, how’s my favor…
(NEW)(Podcrown): Chaxium, we really need…
(NEW)(Podcrown): This is urgent Chaxium,…
(OLD)(Leafshroud): Has Podcrown told you…
(OLD)(Podcrown): You haven’t gotten bac…
(OLD)(Podcrown): We have an offer for yo…
A bubble, tiny and blue, rose out of Chaxium’s pants pocket. It kept pace with her brisk walk as it rose to her face and popped in front of her eyes. She ignored it. Another bubble squeezed out and popped on the other side of her face. It was just going to keep going like that until she checked it or changed her settings. Chaxium stopped. There were others walking behind her, so she had to move over to the railing to let them pass. Continue reading
(Against the Grain will return after these messages from our sponsor)
Season seven of The Disasters is coming, better make sure you’re prepared. You’ll need to call in sick, get the best spot on the couch, and make sure there’s at least one free pillow for back support.
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It was awfully quiet for a place where so much money changed hands. There were tons of poker players there that night; as a crowd they tended to know how to keep their eyes down and their mouths shut. Half of them wore sunglasses even though it was the middle of the night. The other half had toothpicks in their mouths, just enough of a disturbance to make their tiniest smiles or frowns undetectable.
It was a private apartment, high above the streets of Midway, so excessive noise wouldn’t have helped anyway. Still, it didn’t feel like much of a party. The loudest noises were the clinking of glasses and the brief scrapes of USB drives docking and undocking from various ports. Every dealer had a box next to them with at least four ports, perfect repositories for the digital currency while the guests gambled. Should the police burst in the boxes would automatically cancel everything they held and wipe their own memories. Continue reading
Eirene wondered if her father had more of a literary talent than she had initially thought, because the two houses that made up the Odeck family compound did appear to be stitched together, like the arguing children of a mad scientist. They were bound by a tunnel of unpainted wood, with nearly every board having come from a different source. There was one window on the tunnel, its frame an actual picture frame.
It was a nightmarish playhouse already, but the image was further enhanced by the entertainment and sport debris littered all over the yard and in the branches of a giant twisted elm tree, the roots of which crawled into the gray asphalt driveway and broke it into chunks like lava rock. Continue reading
This program is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
Intro Narration: Law enforcement is taken seriously in the township of Little Pond, Massachusetts. A new crime wave, worsened by local corruption, has convinced its people that elections are now necessary for its detectives as well as its sheriff. The first two candidates for this experimental program, called the Detectorate, are Eirene Amstead and Cincinattus Golfort. These stories are the evidence of their efforts, conviction, and dedication to their constituents.
Intro theme tune by Zizi Caraway
Produced by Heath Moose
Episode 17: By the Horns Continue reading
The Legend of Broadside Barnaby
Old Thresher the card shark. Remember him? I bested his challenge more than a hundred times over and it were way past due for him to give up the location of Broadside Barnaby. He were the last name left. With him collected the Manifest would be complete, everyone accounted for in myth, and I could have my pa back. My family could have the eventual peace that I worked so hard to disrupt. Continue reading
That were the story I told my pocket twister. It weren’t the most heartening, but I think confiding in him gave him some strength. He shook off most of that water and started looking more like his old self and less like a cloud constipated with rain.
Now you know whose soul I were collecting all them names for. I knew Pa weren’t at peace. He were still kept from Heaven and Hell in the ropes of Knot-eye, and the only way to get him back or get him to my mother were to obey the will of the Laudgod and eventually be rewarded. I had to be the man he told me to be, to conquer and dominate the West so thoroughly that nothing could stop me. Continue reading