dennis scharnberg

wrotten

Andrew Tertullian,  Pandora’s Ponderous Puns.

“I practice mirror gazing,”  admitted Howard.  “Therefore, I am.”

Trent Bendix,  Grieving for Margaret.

It was one of those old-fashioned beer steins—ceramic with a pewter cap.  Sheila could tell that there was something inside, something hard that rattled a bit when she grabbed the handle.  But what was it?  And who put it in there?  All of a sudden Sheila Giddings knew something.  Knew one particular thing.  That she did not want to lift the cap and look inside that dusty old mug.

Leslie M. Dow,  The Murder in the Meadow.

“If you do that again, I will rip your face right off the bone!”  That’s what he said, Constable.  Just like that.  So I listened to him.  Indeed I did.

Harrison Wilmer,  The Michaelmas Killer.

“Form follows function.”  Of course, the modernist architects did not really believe such things.  It was just something that was said.  Their actual motivations resided at a more infantile level.

Gunnar Grimes,  The Persistence of Vision.

“…tatted-up, nose-ringed screeching shit weasels.  In short, my peers.”

Lawrence Bird,  A Catalog of Errors.

And what does this self-consciousness want to do?  It wants to infest everything.  Every little thing.

Christopher Allyn,  Militant Vulgarity.

“It’s bad enough, Godfrey, that we are ignorant.  Just try to imagine how awful it would be if we actually did know something.”

Silas Burbage,  The Adventurous Half-Life of Buddy Boyo.

Pickwick, Ian

Andrew Tertullian,  Pandora’s Ponderous Puns.

…this prim basket of lies

doth transcende your licentious honestie.

Thomas Faraday,  The Maiden’s Complainte.     (1586)

Priscilla Fanning,  Fragments From the Elizabethan Stage.