The exploding wives

When it came to methods of incarceration, the Reverend Flip Galore, former number two on the galaxy’s most wanted list, had seen it all.

He’d spent a season running from hunters in a perp-park, a century of temporary decapitation on a brain farm, a fifty-year stint in a submerged immobilisation tank somewhere in Gop Glacier, and, the source of his fondest memories, several cycles of induced alcoholic psychosis on the outer rims; he’d been found guilty for attempted planet hijacking, attempted drug smuggling, attempted real estate fraud and had more than nine hundred thousand counts of attempted murder on his file; and despite not having succeeded in any of his criminal undertakings, Flip had clocked up so many years (approximately three thousand and fifty-four) of sweating, working or biting down on a plastic bit in some form of correctional facility, that he’d achieved a rehabilitation status of ‘platinum’ in four of the five colonies. He was therefore the universe’s most reformed person. Continue reading “The exploding wives”

The director

Gunther’s feet curled in his snow boots. How long had he been waiting? How long had he been listening to that screaming?

That crying that gashed at his nerves like a chainsaw through a sheet of tin? With a twitching eye he regarded the woman in the cobalt fur coat: she was rocking an all-terrain stroller backwards and forwards, cocked-headed and cooing at the woollen cocoon inside. But the baby only replied by screaming more loudly. Continue reading “The director”