John Constantine notices something happening around him but it doesn't seem to need his attention.  Hellblazer #134, 1999.  Tim Bradstreet, artist.  Vertigo Comics.   I'm saying it here, the movie with Keanu Reeves was far better than the comics.  Never mind the indifferent artwork, no one over at Hellblazer can write coherent stories.  Never has such a great concept been so wasted.  Excellent cover art.   But this does have it's moments.

 It was a lovely day in November.  At least Tom thought it was November, the air was crisp and cool and it felt Novemberish.  There were no calenders here, while he had a clock he rarely looked at it.  He never had to be anywhere at any particular time in any event, when he had to be somewhere he always showed up on time, if that's the word for it.  Anyway, it was a nice Fall day. Tom stood on his porch that surrounded the small field stone house, he could see and smell the smoke from his neighbor's fires, someone was cooking fish and the big cat was salivating.  Since he had had his coffee he wasn't hungry, but the fish really smelled enticing.  Odd, he thought, I haven't had meat since I got here.  When did I get here?  he thought to himself, I don't remember.  Maybe someplace in town sold meat, although he had never seen such a shop.  It didn't matter, what with the bread and potatoes and butter and honey he was never hungry.  Tom lit a cigarette

’Twas on a lofty vase’s side, Where China’s gayest art had dyed The azure flowers that blow; Demurest of the tabby kind, The pensive Selima, reclined, Gazed on the lake below. Her conscious tail her joy declared; The fair round face, the snowy beard, The velvet of her paws, Her coat, that with the tortoise vies, Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes, She saw; and purred applause. Still had she gazed; but ’midst the tide Two angel forms were seen to glide, The genii of the stream; Their scaly armour’s Tyrian hue Through richest purple to the view Betrayed a golden gleam. The hapless nymph with wonder saw; A whisker first and then a claw, With many an ardent wish, She stretched in vain to reach the prize. What female heart can gold despise? What cat’s averse to fish? Presumptuous maid! with looks intent Again she stretch’d, again she bent, Nor knew the gulf between. (Malignant Fate sat by, and smiled) The slippery verge her feet beguiled, She tumbled headlong in. Eigh

''The plight of Davis Paul'' ''Dam you to Hades Billy! why are you setting fire to my Wardrobe with your Cigarette!!?''...you would hear on occasion some kind of verbal anger often from Davis - shouting out in abstract Frustration, 'just because Billy Thought Davis Pauls Clothes were lame'' oh yeah, Billy D was the Dude.........Davis put up with so much crap and nonsense from the rebellious Layabout - come would be antisocial super hero, ''the enabler''...Davis Paul was literally at the end of his tether..all those worrisome late nights... Davis would often shout at Billy, during one of Billy's Trash rampages, ''Aunt may never has this problem ever with peter parker !'' and then the rest of the time, Davis Paul wondering where Billy was? and what was Billy D up too? then after hours and hour of worrying,  Billy would just rock up - staggering through the Front door, Gladiator outfit on, covered

 Tom returned to consciousness in a large, well lit room.  He could see a doorway off to one side, it was flanked by the two soldiers who had brought him in.  There was a desk in front of him with Billy the rabbit sitting behind it.  Next to him was Mr. Charrington of the antique store on his left and a human female on his right.  Tom knew his hands were bound to the chair he was sitting in, he glared at Billy who met his eyes with a blank stare.  No one said anything.  Then the two soldiers snapped to attention as a large man walked into the room.  He was almost pure black and had a round head that looked like a cannonball.  Billy had gotten to his feet and offered a chair to the newcomer.  The two shook hands and the man sat down.  The woman put a folder in front of the man as Mr. Charrington tapped keys on a computer console, something Tom had never seen but he knew what it was, oddly enough.  The dark man spoke. 'Mr. Catt, do you know why you're here'?  Tom was amazed t

The Captain is walking his quarter-deck, With a troubled brow and a bended neck; One eye is down through the hatchway cast, The other turns up to the truck* on the mast; Yet none of the crew may venture to hint 'Our Skipper hath gotten a sinister squint!' The Captain again the letter hath read Which the bum-boat* woman brought out to Spithead— Still, since the good ship sail'd away, He reads that letter three times a-day; Yet the writing is broad and fair to see As a Skipper may read in his degree, And the seal is as black, and as broad, and as flat, As his own cockade in his own cock'd hat: He reads, and he says, as he walks to and fro, 'Curse the old woman—she bothers me so!' He pauses now, for the topmen hail — 'On the larboard quarter a sail! a sail!' That grim old Captain he turns him quick, And bawls through his trumpet for Hairy-faced Dick. 'The breeze is blowing — huzza! huzza! The breeze is blowing — away! away! The

  Hokas.  An alien race that looks exactly like Earth Teddy Bears and believes in the literal truth of all fiction.  They love human culture and live the stories they read about from us, becoming Napoleon Bonaparte to Sherlock Holmes.  From Hoka! Hoka! Hoka! by Gordon R. Dickson and Poul Anderson. Extraordinary illustrations by Edd Cartier. Talking bears.  Yeah, right.

Ladies and gentlemen, members of this distinguished society,... Your Majesty , Mr. President:      I am beyond honored to have been asked to speak to this august company tonight.  I was told that I needed to break the ice (rattles ice cubes in glass, - laughter) so I thought this amusing story might do the trick.        In my country, there are many different professions.  Well, when I was a kid my dad had an acquaintance, Ernie the Pus-Sucker.  Pus-Sucking is a valuable trade, nothing like the inconvenience of swelling and infection to ruin one's day.  One afternoon Ernie got a call from someone who asked him to come over as fast as possible, he was in great pain and need Ernie's services.  So Ernie, good guy that he is, put on his coat and drove over to the caller's house.  When he got there he knocked on the door and almost recoiled from the smell of decay and filth that greeted him when the door was opened.  The caller was a very fat man who obviously didn&

 The name of the planet where Trout's book took place was Bagnialto, and a "Barring-gaffner" there was a government official who spun a wheel of chance once a year. Citizens submitted works of art to the government, and these were given numbers, and then they were assigned cash values according to the Barring-gaffner's spins of the wheel. The viewpoint of character of the tale was not the Barring-gaffner, but a humble cobbler named Gooz. Gooz lived alone, and he painted a picture of his cat. It was the only picture he had ever painted. He took it to the Barring-gaffner, who numbered it and put it in a warehouse crammed with works of art. The painting by Gooz had an unprecedented gush of luck on the wheel. It became worth eighteen thousand lambos, the equivalent of one billion dollars on Earth. The Barring-gaffner awarded Gooz a check for that amount, most of which was taken back at once by the tax collector. The picture was given a place of honor in the N

 The morning of June 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a full summer day; the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass was richly green. The people of the village began to gather in the square, between the post office and the bank, around ten o'clock; in some towns there were so many people that the lottery took two days and had to be started on June 26th. But in this village, where there were only about three hundred people, the whole lottery took less than two hours, so it could begin at ten o'clock in the morning and still be through in time to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner. The children assembled first, of course. School was recently over for the summer, and the feeling of liberty sat uneasily on most of them; they tended to gather together quietly for a while before they broke into boisterous play, and their talk was still of the classroom and the teacher, of books and reprimands. Bobby Martin had already stuffed his pockets full o

April 15th, 190—. DEAR SIR, — I am requested by the Council of the — Association to return to you the draft of a paper on The Truth of Alchemy, which you have been good enough to offer to read at our forthcoming meeting, and to inform you that the Council do not see their way to including it in the programme. I am, Yours faithfully, — SECRETARY. April 18th. DEAR SIR, — I am sorry to say that my engagements do not permit of my affording you an interview on the subject of your proposed paper. Nor do our laws allow of your discussing the matter with a Committee of our Council, as you suggest. Please allow me to assure you that the fullest consideration was given to the draft which you submitted, and that it was not declined without having been referred to the judgment of a most competent authority. No personal question (it can hardly be necessary for me to add) can have had the slightest influence on the decision of the Council. Believe me (ut supra). April 20th. The Secretary of the — As