I submitted three pieces for the Moss Piglet April 2025 issue, Westerns:
Duddly Dogooder
“Duddly Dogooder, do yer surrender? If yer do, we’ll kill yer quick. Otherwise we’ll kill yer slow.”
I sat on the edge of my seat, date forgotten, popcorn half-eaten on my lips, as Black Bart’s Bastards surrounded the defeated hero. Would the white-hatted champion of All-That’s-Right-In-The-World get out of this predicament? My lips reached for the rim of the ice-cold glass that would bring precious cola and help me through this tense exchange of…
A shove on my right shoulder nearly spilled my drink. What the…?
“How is it you haven’t seen this, like, a million times already? It’s on cable, for crying out loud!”
As she stormed off, I turned back to watch, enraptured. So… he survives this, does he??? I turned up the volume.
Frogs in the Wild West
Frogs didn’t do well in the Rootin’ Tootin’ Gun-Shootin’ Wild West.
For one, their gun belts never stayed on - they just slid off their bodies. It didn’t help that Nature refused to give them belt-holding hips in the first place.
For two, saloons didn’t serve pond water. Frogs can’t drink whisky - too dehydrating.
And three, they couldn’t bring themselves to wear denim. Washed and faded blue clashed with their greenish-brown skin. Frogs have fashion sense, after all.
And so frogs tended to move to refined Europe. Although there was that unfortunate French habit that made Paris rather unenticing. But Nice was nice.
... and, The Whole Buzzard
