My Cardboard Balcony

Wife of Godzilla by Belinda Roddie Look at you, little lady betrothed to a terrorist laden with scales, his message a guttural roar as he topples the towers of Tokyo for - why? - Just because it's a scream. Don't be hasty in filing any divorce papers. The honeymoon phase was nice when he carried you on a joyride while he tore into skyscrapers, shaking the Japanese land more than earthquakes. He gave you a rose from an scared woman's garden. You'll get used to married life. He'll have his demolition job, and you'll be his liability agent, lawsuits a-plenty on your desk in a little office made of the bricks of old buildings. He designed it himself. The sly green devil. Maybe tomorrow he'll take you out for sushi at a caved in bar.

"My knee's badly bruised, and the lump just keeps getting bigger! Isn't that just SWELL?" I felt my head make contact with the desk. Bernard was beaming, scooting around the office space with his slacks hiked up to reveal his punny injury. I heard our sales supervisor crow from his cubicle in the far right corner. "You kill my inner child, Bernard!" "Oh, suck it up, Lawrence, you think it's hilarious!"

Basket Head by Belinda Roddie A man with a basket for a head, a pair of forks for hands, and two surfboards for feet stumbled into a bar for a hot-cold drink that he couldn't drink. The barkeep couldn't stand the odd sight of him, so he threw a spider into the woven, screaming face of the fellow, who tumbled and rolled into the street, where he punctured several truck tires on impact.

"Oh, baby, hold me close. Kiss me everywhere." "Even the parts I don't want to kiss?" "Oh. Sorry. Do I need a shave?" "In more than one place." "Eesh. Hon. Just kiss me over the nice parts, then." "How about the nicest parts?" "Would you just cut the practical crap, take my sappiness at face value, and kiss me?" "Only if you say the magic words." "You're dead sexy." "Fair enough."

"You have a visitor, my dear." I crane my head from my Chekhov anthology. Torn away from the cherry orchard for a bit. The red blossoms dissipate for a dark face. Thick, black beard. Watery smile. "Howard?" "Came to see you, girl," he purred. "Heard you weren't feeling well." "Pretty obvious, huh?" I sneered, gesticulating at the IV drilled into my arm. I smiled as he waved a bouquet of tulips at me.

I wore beanies before they were cool. I dreamed about Jennifer Lawrence before it was cool. Kissed men before it was cool. Kissed girls before it was cool. Got sweaty at a nightclub with my shirt riding up against my exposed chest, way before it was cool. I smoked before it was cool. Drank before it was cool. Snorted, coughed, and choked before it was cool. Got sick before it was cool. Died before it was cool.

by Belinda Roddie "The kitten and the raptor are actually very closely related, if you think about it." Hannah wrinkled her nose. She had hardly touched the mixed greens on her plate, the water barely making a ripple in its tall glass. "I don't see how." I flexed my fingers as if I had claws, then chomped at thin air. I didn't really care that the elderly couple sitting across from our booth turned to stare at me once they heard the loud clicking of my teeth. I did like how it made Hannah laugh, though. "Okay, you win, Mister Raptor. Do that raptor squeak that Alan keeps talking about." I did. The old man coughed loudly, as if his throat clearing would put an end to the presumed nonsense. But Hannah giggled and clapped her hands. "Bravo. I knew I had it in you." "So what were you planning on doing after this?" I asked, returning my attention to my half-eaten burger, shreds of cheese sadly drooping from its torn ses...