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1 I was at a crosswalk and the oncoming motorist stopped to let me pass.

2 Rocks along the train tracks are of consistent size and shape, composed mostly of basalt. They are excellent throwing rocks, as if quarried and broken for that purpose. I hit a RR sign with one on a quiet creosote-rich afternoon and it made a startling racket. Some deer broke out of the sedge. I felt lonely all of a sudden.

3 Toenail fungus is a form of life that is hard to evict from the body. It has generated a whole line of quackadoodle remedies. The only surefire way to get rid of it is to have all infected toes removed.

4 When I checked my pants pockets this morning, I found 77 cents in quarters, nickels, dimes and two pennies. I don't normally keep pennies. Pennies are not worthless, but we don't use them for cadavers any more so why save them? There is nothing significant about 77, except it was in the title of an old TV show called "77 Sunset Strip."

5 If you take the metal rack from your oven, tie a pair of shoelaces to it and, with the aglets in either ear have someone tap the rack, you will be overwhelmed by the amplified sound effect, guaranteed.

6 A cricket will not chirp in your bedroom if it thinks you think it’s thinking about you.
7 What does a Border Collie make of an invisible fence? And what about invisible dogs? How are they controlled?

8 I once gave a man a tank full of gas to get to Rochester. He'd driven up from Queens on the way to the heart clinic in said city where his wife was allegedly undergoing surgery. His story was suspicious but elaborate enough for me to believe. It was late at night and it made no sense to buy him gasoline. But I did. I noted another man in the passenger seat who appeared to be asleep as he did not speak. Off they went in the direction I told them to go.

Two days later I walked into a friend's clothing store and attempted to pass a wide-bodied man. He turned on me suddenly and said the following: "What you did the other night to help my friend see his wife will come back to you in a good way. Good things are going to come back to you for that." He said no more and walked out. It was the man in the passenger seat.

9 I gave a ride home to a guy hitchhiking with his bike at 4 in the morning on Route 79 outside Slaterville. We put his bike in the trunk. He didn't have a car. He worked for the DPW's garbage crew. I took him right to his job site in Ithaca, on time. I mentioned where I lived and a few hours after I got home and fell asleep, I heard the garbage truck. I ran downstairs and there was my hitchhiker, Gary. "Gary, hey man, you made it!" He seemed embarrassed and barely acknowledged me. But for the next three months no one removed the garbage tags from my waste bins.

10 Once while eating in a familiar Chinese restaurant, I noticed that the waiter had very dry hands. Like, very dry and cracked. I asked him about this and we talked. He drank mostly tea, he said, and rarely ever any fresh water. I was on a water kick then and I suggested he drink about a gallon of fresh water a day and cut back on tea and see if that helped his skin. Three months later I saw him on the street. He showed me his hands. The skin was normal. "I did what you said and my hands are all better." I was very pleased with myself about this.

11 I got caught in a rip tide while body surfing off Fire Island when I was a kid. I didn't understand why my friends were right next to me one moment and very far away near the shore the next. I swam hard to get back, fighting the current instead of swimming parallel to shore as one should in those situations. I didn't know better. I remember the blue sky, swallowing water and thinking "I am going to die on a perfectly nice day." The rip current slackened. When I finally crawled out of the surf on hands and knees a pair of suntanned feet greeted me. It was the lifeguard: "You should be more careful," he said. I spat out some salt water and said, "thanks a lot."

12 My Aunt June had a vial of liquid she claimed was nitro-glycerin and she was gonna blow the place up if anybody touched her. I don't know what place, I don't know who was threatening her. The fluid turned out to be tap water and poor Aunt June wound up in the bug house again.

13 On a warm September night last summer, I stood outside 192 Main Street on the West side of Binghamton smoking a Cuban cigar. A friend's band was playing in a slot bar next door. Within minutes of lighting up I was converged upon by one young black man after another who appeared, at least to me, to come from out of nowhere. When I stepped outside to light up there was only a young couple on the street. Half a dozen keenly interested men all asked the same question: "Its that a Cuban? Are you smoking a CUBAN cigar?" Why yes I was, but I had no others. "Man, I could tell it was a Cuban," said one fellow. "Ain't nothing else has that smell."
I made fast friends with the owner of a barber shop next to the bar and he offered to darken my beard at a very reasonable price. Someday I'm going back there to do just that.

14 Tree sex gives me allergies. That is to say, the consequence of tree sex gives me allergies. Bad ones. This has made me less enamored of trees in groups of more than three.

15 When I was a little kid I had a double. He was called "That Kid." Whenever I did anything mischievous, it was always his fault. My father was amused by this and a little worried. But whenever he confronted me about some trouble I'd gotten myself into, he led with the question: "Did That Kid do it?"
Yup. Every time.
Thing is you grow up and That Kid shares the same driver's license and ID. Hard to explain mischief to a cop by saying "That Kid did it."

16 Bobo's son Arlo once gave a great example of how you can't change past acts because they are all "flatness." Flatness as Bobo explained Arlo explaining it, is like the surface of milk once it has been spilt: The surface is flat. The milk can't be unspilt and it lays flat on the surface. I was very charmed by this allegory and still am.

17 I wish I could throw rocks like I used to. But I can't. But I want to. But I can't.

18 I came to a crosswalk and the motorist ran the light and yelled at me for nearly walking in front of his truck.

19 I once found a snake stuck in tar from a bucket that was dumped at the brook where I played as a kid. I couldn't save it.

20 Second chances are first chances going
in reverse order.

21 If you live long enough and someone you know dies and their clothes fit you, you will be honored to wear that dead person’s clothes.

 


IN THIS ISSUE–––

• OREN PIERCE, GuestEditor
Welcome to the Weird Issue
• DAVEY WEATHERCOCK
My Heart KnewWhat the
Wild Geese Knew

• DAVID S. WARREN
Natural Bone Chapter 2
TheHeadUnderground
• FRANKLIN CRAWFORD
21 Things You May or May Not
Consider Weird
• RHIAN ELLIS
fever cat
• GABRIEL ORGREASE
Perry City Dinks
• ANNIE CAMPBELL
The Deserted House
•STEVE KATZ
DEW
• SUE-RYN BURNS
Black Beauty
•GEORGIA WARREN
Weird Happens
• GEORGIA WARREN
The Soldiers' Story

POETRY
• SUE-RYN BURNS Wild Turkeys
• MARY GILLILAND Kitchen Theater
• PETER FORTUNATO
Cocks of the Walk (Key West)
• COVER
Copernicus under cover
________________________

Welcome
to the Weird Issue

by Oren Pierce, Guest Editor
(short excerpt here, read it all
on the home page)

Weathercock (I feel) has presented us not with just an honest meditation on the uncanny nature of everyday life that an unsensational treatment of the theme requires, nor is it either fact or fiction, but just plain fake news.
Not wanting to be too negative, I won’t get any further into that. Read and judge for yourself.

Just about everything else in this issue is fine with me and I recommend the writings to you without further doo doo. ______________________


by Rhian Ellis

The letters came, and the letters came, and then they stopped. The last came in the autumn, with the falling leaves and the clotting sky, but through the long grayness of winter there was nothing.
Ruth continued to write even though it felt as though she was dropping her pages into a bottomless well. She asked questions that were never answered and told stories that seemed unheard. She wrote faster and more frantically as the snow blew into the city and hid the dirt and the trash and the broken things. She imagined her sister in her little house, out there in the wilderness, burning logs and nursing babies and what else? What did she do? Life was so different out there, so hard to imagine...

And then a letter came, on the same rough paper, written with the same too-sharp pen that scratched. But the hand was unfamiliar. And inside, the letter was hard to read and cramped and was almost like the writing of a child. Perhaps it was the writing of a child.

Sister Ruth-- I hayte that I am the barer of the world’s moust dreaded newes but the truth is that our dearr Jane is dead and so are the chyldren tifuss came to our small house and we coud not stop it. First the older chyld then Jane then the baby went to the arms of Jesuss. Wheeler is the only chyld left and I am left too tho to what purpose I

(go to story)
______________________

Natural Bone Chapter 2 with recap
by David Warren

Noah had stared at the falling water for he didn’t know how long, when his eyes began to wander around the yellowish chamber floor and he saw a helmet lying there: a battered metal helmet with stubby horns. And then, only a few yards from the helmet, he saw a bodiless head in a nest of its own hair among the rocks. It’s eyes were wide open, and the grisly thing spoke to him, although in an understandably weak and sighing sort of voice.

“Don’t be afraid!” said the Head “I’m just a head.” click here for the recap of chapter 1 and all of Chapter 2
______________________



The DesertedHouse

by Annie Campbell

One time, the kids and I stopped to explore a large deserted house on Townline road near Trumansburg. It still had its roof and didn’t look too bad, so we squeezed through a door coming off its hinges. Plaster and lath which had fallen from the ceilings in the three spacious rooms we could see - littered the floor. Carefully, the three of us made our way to a big room that still had a few glass panes in the windows. A wide staircase beckoned, and I made the kids wait while I went up. It seemed safe enough so I waited for them to catch up to me.

(go to story)
_____________________


Weldon packs a yellow umbrell athough he doesn’t expect to use it. “If I carry a yellow parapluie jaune,” he tells Mathilde, “it might fake out the rain sprights. Energize them. Maybe drought will start to end. Vive la pluie.” He finds his French words exhilarating, as he does his French girl friend.
(go to story)
___________________________

Perry City Dinks
by Gabreal Orgrease

“Fire so hot and quick that when they opened the trailer door they found my father sitting smack in front of the tube with his reading glasses melted around his nose still holding an instant coffee on his lap only the skin of his fingers was stuck to the melted thermal mug.” (go to story)

Weird Happens

1 I was at a crosswalk and the oncoming motorist stopped to let me pass.

2 Rocks along the train tracks are of consistent size and shape, composed mostly of basalt. They are excellent throwing rocks, as if quarried and broken for that purpose. I hit a RR sign with one on a quiet creosote-rich afternoon and it made a startling racket. Some deer broke out of the sedge. I felt lonely all of a sudden.

3 Toenail fungus is a form of life that is hard to evict from the body. It has generated a whole line of quackadoodle remedies. The only surefire way to get rid of it is to have all infected toes removed.

4 When I checked my pants pockets this morning, I found 77 cents in quarters, nickels, dimes and two pennies. I don’t normally keep pennies. Pennies are not worthless, but we don’t use them for cadavers any more so why save them? There is nothing significant about 77, except it was in the title of an old TV show called "77 Sunset Strip."
For numbers 5 to 21 click here


by Georgia Warren

I was taught hand reading in the 1960s by a doctor from India who was getting certified to practice medicine in the US. It took me two years to learn the intricacies of the India-style of hand reading. When Dr. Singh said I was ready to go out on my own.I got a seat working steadily in a coffee house in Akron Ohio.

One night a couple of soldiers back from Vietnam stopped by. Their hands were in their coat pockets.. They said they wanted me to read their hands. They were laughing, and I was sure they’d probably had a “couple” of beers. I didn’t have the attitude that I gained years later to say, “I don’t do readings for people who have been drinking.” The two of them sat down, still smirking. They took their hands out of their pockets, they were prosthetiucs. Neither of them had any hands for me to read. (go to story)

___________________

POETRY

MARY GILLILAND
Kitchen Theatre (go to)

SUE-RYN BURNS
Wild Turkeys (go to)

PETER FORTUNATO
Cocks of the Walk
(Key West) (go to)

___________________


 

© 2019 The Metaphysical Times Publishing Company - PO Box 44 Aurora, NY 13026 • All rights reserved. For any article re-publication, contact authors directly.

 

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