Like A Chinese Tattoo by Konrath JA; Reed Rick R.; Lord David Thomas; Bunn Cullen

Author:Konrath, JA; Reed, Rick R.; Lord, David Thomas; Bunn, Cullen [Konrath, JA; Reed, Rick R.; Lord, David Thomas; Bunn, Cullen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Dark Arts Books
Published: 2012-01-27T04:30:00+00:00

13

Miranda awakened ravenous. She felt miraculously better. All the pain was gone, vanished, healed while she slept, dreaming of Jimmy, ascending into the sky, until the silver light of the moon absorbed him.

And as he rose, he had called something out to her. What was it he had said? All, all gone, Miranda. You’re free.

Miranda pressed the call button. One of these nurses ought to be able to bring her something to eat.

Stung

By Rick R. Reed

The invitation to Cigar and his wife’s summer home was a godsend. It let Amelia know she was one of the “chosen few,” destined to rise to the top at the factory. “I always knew I was meant for something big,” she told Mother not long after her boss’s invitation arrived in the mail.

“Yeah, like those panties you wear.” Helen snickered and then sang, “Not too big, not too small, just the size for a cannon ball.”

“Oh Mother, honestly!”

“I just hope and pray you won’t have to show up in a bathing suit at this shindig. I don’t know how the society up at the lake would react to such a sight.”

“You know, it’s a wonder I have an ounce of self–confidence with you for a mother.”

“And it’s a wonder I still have my sanity with you for a daughter.”

“I question the sanity part,” Amelia said, disgusted. She went into her bedroom to look through her summer clothes, hoping she could find some ensembles that would prove both festive and fun. “And slenderizing…and slenderizing,” she whispered to herself.

Saturday arrived clear, with a lemon drop sun in a blue sky. Amelia yawned, stretched and threw off her sheets. The night before she had slathered herself in QT and now saw she was a healthy shade of orange. “Gawd,” she whimpered, “I look like a great big carrot.”

Helen barged into the room. Amelia squealed and tried to pull the sheet up. “Honest to God,” Helen said, “Playing with yourself again? No wonder you never got married. Probably couldn’t find a man to fill the demanding shoes of Mr. Thumb and his four sons.”

“Jesus, Mother, you’re sick.”

“Well, I didn’t come in here for browbeating…” Helen sighed. “Or to watch you masturbate.”

“Mother!”

“I came in here to tell you you better get that fat ass out of bed so we can get on the road. Lake Erie is three hours away. And I know you don’t want to miss lunch.”

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