Clyde knew enough theology to spot a heretic. He cursed them in capital letters. He exaggerated his words till they slipped through the nets of truth. He ridiculed without mercy. He wanted every heretic to feel just how hot hell would get.

During his massive heart attack Clyde heard a soft voice say, “What do you think you’ve been doing?” “I’ve been serving You, Lord,” he responded, but he realized, much too late, that he had been serving only himself.

No one expected Clyde to recover anymore than they anticipated the joy his revived words would bring when he did.

Frank Hubeny has poetry published in Snakeskin and The Lyric. He has published flash fiction in Whispers and Echoes. He regularly posts poetry, prose and photography to frankhubeny.blog.

Busy folk in the city paid no attention to the clouds splashing through the sky. The clouds got darker. They dropped thick, beautiful snow. The busy folk couldn’t get to work. The snow was so deep the snow plow driver didn’t see the sign to raise the plow in time. That made a mess.

People blamed the politicians who promised global warming. The politicians blamed the scientists. The scientists blamed Gaia. Since Gaia doesn’t exist, she couldn’t care less.

The clouds couldn’t care less either, because that’s not what clouds do. They splash through the sky dropping rain and snow.

Frank Hubeny has poetry published in Snakeskin and The Lyric. He has published flash fiction in Whispers and Echoes. He regularly posts poetry, prose and photography to frankhubeny.blog.

They sat outside our dorm singing the Moon Song. It was his favorite. Even she knew it. He sang, “Yadda yadda goo goo.” She followed, “Doodoo doodoo wah wah.”

This would go on and on.

I imagine them singing the Moon Song for decades even after a long, hard day of fighting and making up. When they grew too old to vocalize, I imagine them singing it to each other in their hearts.

Indeed, I hope so.

But we didn’t have air conditioning. My window was open. This was exam week. And that’s my lame excuse for shouting, “Shut up!”.

Frank Hubeny spends his time between Miami Beach and Northbrook, Illinois.  He has appeared in The Lyric, Snakeskin and Ancient Paths Literary Magazine.  He regularly posts poetry, short fiction and photography to https://frankhubeny.blog.

Diane dropped a biscuit. She glanced at Brian to see if he noticed. He did.

“Five second rule!”

“What if I waited ten seconds?”

“Ten second rule!”

“What if I found it a month later?”

“Blow off the dust rule!”

When Diane picked up the biscuit she found another reasonably good one down there she must have also dropped. She tossed it to Brian. He ate it.

“Brian, you didn’t blow off the dust.”

She wondered. Was that a smirk on his face? When Brian barked, she stopped teasing and tossed him the other biscuit. “Good boy.”

Frank Hubeny spends his time between Miami Beach and Northbrook, Illinois.  He has appeared in The Lyric, Snakeskin and Ancient Paths Literary Magazine.  He regularly posts poetry, short fiction and photography to https://frankhubeny.blog.

George tosses opportunities like an infant tosses food then cries for more. Parents are generally patient. After a mild paddling or time-out, they offer clean food and try again. Most children know what to do.

Unlike most children George is the kind of guy who keeps tossing nourishment expecting the sun to rise tomorrow since it’s been doing that for the past sixty years.

Patience keeps trying, even with the likes of George, but not forever.  George doesn’t know it, but he will be offered one last year to waste.

Frank Hubeny spends his time between Miami Beach and Northbrook, Illinois.  He has appeared in The Lyric, Snakeskin and Ancient Paths Literary Magazine.  He regularly posts poetry, short fiction and photography to https://frankhubeny.blog.

After a decade Bill called.  He reached a level of intoxication where lunacy required an audience.  He also had a list of unforgivable people and wanted to go over it with me. Admittedly I’ve messed things up, plenty, but I was surprised to find my name on his list.

After an hour I told Bill I could hook him up with a good shrink, or an exorcist if he preferred.  That worked. He hung up.

A week later I called him back.  Bill was sober and I was tactful.  We joked some before I brought up the exorcist.

Frank Hubeny spends his time between Miami Beach and Northbrook, Illinois.  He has appeared in The Lyric, Snakeskin and Ancient Paths Literary Magazine.  He regularly posts poetry, short fiction and photography to https://frankhubeny.blog.