About Us
----
Issue #3:
Anomalies,
by Richard S. Freeland
----
Ghost Therapy,
by Gerald Sheagren
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Angel Envy,
by Ian Donnell Arbuckle
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Thromboles,
by Dr Terry Dartnall
----
Trapped in a
Barrel,
by Steven Holmes
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Earth,
by Dena Graham
----
The Tale of the
Brilliant Thief,
by Ally Wren
----
Beat Burt,
by Mike Boone
----
Issue #2:
Remembering
Krempla,
by H. David Blalock
----
Cthulu Calling
Collect,
by Gregory Story
----
At the Trial
of
the Loathsome Slime,
by William Meikle
----
Just Another Day at
Roswell,
by Randy Tanner
----
A Million Ducks
Quacking,
by Marc Crofton
----
Editorials
----
Issue #1:
July 1, 2003
by H. David Blalock
----
by Janice Clark
----
by Daniel Devine
----
by Beth Long
----
by Daniel L. Needles
----
by Susan Lange
----
Editorials
Thromboles
by Dr Terry Dartnall
He flicked the thermometer and put it under the alien's tongue.
"Urk," said the alien.
Thompson looked at the thermometer. The alien had no temperature. No temperature at all. Maybe that was normal for aliens.
"How did you break it?" he said.
The alien looked at him with vacant eyes. A red ticker tape appeared on its forehead with the words, "Fell over."
"Could you be more specific?" said Thompson.
The same vacant expression, as if the alien's brain wasn't reporting to the alien.
"No," said the ticker tape.
The alien was sitting on the edge of the bed. Thompson took a small hammer and tapped the alien's knee.
The alien's head fell off.
"Nurse!" shouted Thompson.
The nurse came in.
"Thromboles," she said, looking at the alien.
She picked up the head and stuck it back on the alien.
They looked at it for a while.
"Back to front," they said together.
The nurse put her hands on the alien's head and twisted it violently.
Thompson found himself looking at the vacant eyes again.
The ticker tape was going ...
"That's better," it said.
A pause and then ...
"We are very impressed. We want you to treat our leader."
"Who is your leader?" said Thompson.
"You are," said the ticker tape.
"Could you be more specific?" said Thomson.
"No," said the ticker tape.
"Thromboles," said the nurse, gesturing towards the alien.
"A Thrombole is a ... Thrombole ..." she said.
Thompson thought about this.
"I suppose it is," he said.
"And you're their leader," said the nurse, looking at him with bright eyes. She was wearing a nurse's uniform and had good legs.
"I suppose I am," said Thompson, putting his arms around her and drawing her towards him.
The alien sat on the bed, looking at them dispassionately.
"Could you be more specific?" said the tape on its forehead.
The End
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