by Adam Bogdan

Ugh...what happened? Stupid beer, stupid people, stupid Deflate Gate, stupid Seahawks. I shouldn’t have done that. I regret everything I did last night. Well maybe not everything... I shouldn’t have gone out, I shouldn’t have bought that fourth pitcher, and I shouldn’t have stayed up that late. I mean today is the day; it’s Super Bowl Sunday. On top of the mild hangover I’m still fighting that virus I had last week. Ugh, why did I do that? I need to be on top of my game today. Ok, first things first, I need to make sure everyone is still coming over and aren’t suffering from what I’m going through.

Where’s my phone? Oh, there it is. Ok, I’ll text Jake, and Tom, and Amanda. Hey guys, so when are you coming over today?...jeez, it’s already 10:30 AM. How’s my room look? My clothes are on the floor, some beer cans scattered about, and I guess I left that light on, but overall nothing disastrous. I mean it’s a Rec room, it never looked good to begin with. Hopefully I still have some burgers and alcohol left for later; I may need some drinks if things start going downhill. Better to be drunk and distracted if your team is losing in the biggest game of the year than being completely aware of the situation. At least that’s the way I look at it. I heard it. My phone vibrated. I hear it. Ugh where’d I put it? Ok, I found it. Hey dude, I’ll be over in an hour or so. Jake says he’s coming, whew. Ok, I need to shower and get my shit together, and then I can worry about the other things.

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by Chris Musatto

Stilton Smyth lay nude on the table in the pristine, white travel chamber. Its climax was a moment of blankness that he enjoyed, and it came upon him with the usual unexpected rush. It was calm and violence, expanding infinitely, contracting to singularity, pain and oblivion climaxing in blankness. All too soon, it was over. Back to work, he thought.

He proceeded to dress himself. His clothes were fashionable for that year. He considered himself slightly ahead of his time in that department. A trendsetter, but respectable, and his haircut accentuated this look. Fashion changed so quickly, but he was pretty on top of things. The latest fashions were easy to keep up with if you knew where to go on the commons. There was no time for nostalgia in his world. The girls liked him and he knew that. When he went to the clubs with his friends, it was like browsing a bookstore; so many intriguing titles and covers. A conversation was like reading the synopsis to see if you were still interested. Just last night he was in a club on Kepler 298. Kepler was the planet most often haunted by him and his crew. He had this group of girls believing he was a soldier battling the cretins in the Tau Ceti system. Did they really believe him? Did it matter? What was her name again?

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