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Inertia by Tim Hollingsworth
'Lack of routine does not a saint make'. My godfather had been lucky enough to find discipline in the Air Police. I had not been given such an opportunity, though he would argue that opportunities are taken not given. He was a smart man: sharp lapels and crisp collars, belted and immaculate cut like of the crest of a rare predator, always ready to swoop on to the next big thing. I pour out a glass of his whiskey before bed and flick the light.
Holy Hector! by Anonymous
Hector woke in Hades bleeding
badly from his belly bloated but a little
with his pleats in wild disorder.
The boatman clapped him on the shoulder.
That’s two you owe me pal he said
and punted back across the water.