Fiction By Marcus Carab & Friends
Editor’s Note: After a long silence, editor Trent Yardles has sent us the latest sampling of his anthology-in-progress, Dear Fiend: The Letters of Stoves & Yumyum. In this installment, the good bastard Stoves has sent a letter to Tasty Yumyum that strives for oneuppance but instead only betrays the state of his own affairs. Mr. Yardles has included a newspaper excerpt for context.
For even deeper context, you might want to check out installments one, two and three of Dear Fiend.
Editor’s Note: Ah, now I see what these two are up to. Looks like Halton Stoves and Tasty Yumyum are doubleteaming NaNoWriMo this year. The forthcoming anthology Dear Fiend: The Letters of Stoves & Yumyum will undoubtedly be a joint work as its title suggests. In this installment, Halton replies to a fresh-penned young Tasty for the very first time. If you missed Tasty’s letter, check it out first.
Continue reading “Dear Fiend: February 29, 1975”
Greetings constant reader, Stoves here. Woke up this morning with a ghastly jellied feeling behind the eyes & a dwarf in my parlor! Had her dismissed by the help and then helped myself to a little brandy breakfast. Hell of a good time at the Pink Oarsman last night disposing of what little money my driver was able to loan me. Can you believe the cost of a lapdance these days? Inflation was a problem in more ways than one!
The condominium is in terrible disrepair. Trying like hell to recall who I gave the keys to before being dragged off to the pokey, although judging by the graffito on the walls and furniture they didn’t harbor a great deal of appreciation for the gesture. How the mail has piled up! Most of it unreadable documents in legalese, however none more illegible than the inappropriately large number of taunts and jibes, mostly in the form of postcards, from our ‘dear fellow’ Tasty Yumyum. I will not attempt to describe the flowery prose with which the most depraved and unholy scenarios of his demented fancy were communicated. Suffice it to say that the nude photos of my ex-wife enclosed in several of them were quite fetching—I had only to tear his image from them to make them of some use, or else scratch his face from the emulsion with a dirty fork, which was in itself gratifying. Continue reading “Stoves, from the Sky”
Hey there fellow authors, hope you’ve got your heads screwed on straight. Stoves here. So I haven’t been two hours out of the hoosegow when my agent calls me up & says I’m washed up if I don’t get my ass in gear and write something on the quick to justify printing my name on his lousy agency masthead. It transpires that everything I’ve ever published is now officially out of print, the last 20,000 unsellable crates of Rawest of the Groins having been committed to the pulper just last month. Here’s to that! I can’t say that it’s my favourite work, although my editor did mention she drank only marginally while working on it. I suppose it’s time to replenish the coffers and restore my legacy. No matter, there’s more where that came from.
So I stroll into my agent’s office and say this, with a great deal of flourish and pomp: memoir. Halton Stoves tells all. From the gutters to gilded greatness and back again. Volumes one through twelve, hardcover, gorgeous filigreed spine, gold leaf and the whole kit. He threw up all over his desk a couple times, but I happen to know he’s not a well man. I expect to hear from him with all due enthusiasm very soon. Also the cheque I sent him in recompense for my bail money bounced. I’m sure we’ll be in touch.
Continue reading “Greetings from Halton Stoves”