Category Archives: Tom Allman

The Friendly Confines By Tom Allman Jr.

I got a postcard from myself yesterday, postmarked from Twenty-Three years in the future. On the front was a picture of New Wrigley Field……

My weary eyes fluttered open, I could see Joe Jr. He’d hardly left my side in the last week. My kith and kin had all come and gone, saying goodbye to a skeleton that used to be me.

Joe Junior and I had butted heads after his mom had left. I surprised him one day at college and took him to a Cubs game. Two men, at the Friendly Confines, sharing a few beers and few laughs.

“Remember Old Wrigley in May,” I rasped. “Yeah Dad, I do,” his voice cracking. “I’m taking the boys on Tuesday wanna go?”
“Yeah I do Joe.”

The back of the postcard said, “Screw work, take Junior to a ball game.”

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Lost in Translation by Tom Allman

We sailed, at dawn, to the last outpost of the Aztec Empire. Intrepid explorers of the planet we. I the Gastronome, eating my way across six continents and Fitzhume the cunning linguist, speaking in tongues.

We arrived just in time for second breakfast. I rubbed my belly and shouted for Count Chocula. Presently they offered Fitzy and I, steaming and pink, a giant conch full of chunky and decadent chowder.

Nonplussed Fitzy attempted to teach the proud natives the vowels and consonants of other General Mills products. The throng parted and up walked our missing European friend. Oh fortunes favor, we turned and shouted in unison, “Frankenberry”!

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Ferdinand’s Mom by Tom Allman

Ferdinand was an excellent dancer; at least that’s what his Mother had told him. Around and around they would spin in the front parlor to some old Les Brown records. He begged her to allow him to meet a real girl.

Sheltered but smart, Ferdinand believed that his mother had only the best of intentions. Ferdinand’s Mother knew that if her boy ever held or smelled a sweet young girl he’d be gone lickety split. This Saturday’s Sadie Hawkins Dance at the Grange Hall would be a perfect opportunity for her to make sure that never happened.

With his shoes polished and his dead father’s suit hanging nearby he readied himself for the final touch. Smiling (on the inside) his mother lowered a bowl onto his head. Clickity Clack went the scissors and his dreams; it was the Birth Control Haircut.

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Elspeth By Tom Allman

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Deep in the Old Forest there was a forgotten graveyard. The weathered and broken tombstones were scattered like so many broken teeth. It was the quietest place on Earth.

But, on the first day of spring a troop of tiny homunculi jump and frolic around a lonely marble monolith. Nut brown and as big as a whisper they were a gift for the daughter of a forgotten Wizard. He’d made them from the good earth and her tears.

“Oh Elspeth” they sang, “Walk with us to Silvery Stream and dance amongst the daffodils.” A friendly breeze would stir the gentle Willow. Then all was quiet once again.

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A Long Line of Entertainers by Tom Allman

Arkady and Victor were brothers.  It was assumed they would join their family in the Moscow Circus.  But, they were extremely fond of the bottle.  Unable to hold a job in a country of alcoholics, they spent most of their time waiting in line.

The Brothers argued a lot.  They yelled and bullied, screamed and harangued, insulted and insinuated. Their fellow line-standers found their antics extremely entertaining.  They provided the brothers with vodka, cigarettes, and encouragement.

Arkady was a bear of a man, and had a temperament to match.  He would stomp up and down the sidewalk bellowing curses and admonitions.  He was a true Soviet Man and believed that the State was right in all things.

Victor was sharp witted and had the tongue of a poison adder.  He would lean against the wall, hands in pockets, and calmly knock holes in his brother’s arguments.  He was a skeptic and a cynic.

It was so entertaining that people would say that they were on their way to see the Arkady and Victor show rather than to queue for canned fish.  Then one day the old bosses were gone. The new ones didn’t believe in long lines.  Arkady and Victor were no longer famous, and the Moscow Circus had moved to Branson.

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Unseen by Tom Allman

“Oh, and the leader of the Shadow People talked to me today,” he added.

“I didn’t know they have a leader,” she laughed. “And what the hell are Shadow People?”

“You know, you see them out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn your head they disappear.”

Not wishing to cause an argument, she decided to play along.

“I was sitting in the big chair watching Matlock when he came up to me.”

She took a breath and was going to question his sanity but was distracted by a rat trying to pull an apple core to it’s lair.

“I’m serious, he said they live in the dark places in our homes pretty much like you and me but made out of shadow stuff.”

“What did he want?”

“Oh, they want me to clean the god-damned apartment!”

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ARCH RIVALS by Tom Allman

The slow, grinding, metal on metal whoosh……whoosh…….whoosh startled the doves sleeping in the rafters of the warehouse. There/not there/there-an impossible Blue Box appeared from nothingness.

The door of the Impossible Blue Box creaked open. Bony fingers, gripping a cylindrical metal MacGuffin, preceded a sharp elbow and the sandy haired pate of the foppish chrono-hippy. Confidently he maneuvered through the jumbled crates to the fresh, man-shaped stain on the dusty floor.

Was the HE really gone? Through all of time, back and forth, and back again they had battled. To have it end with a sickly-sweet smelling stain didn’t seem very cricket. Stooping, he waved his beep-boop twinkle stick over the patch. What would he do now? An impish Cheshire grin began to creep across his face. No, this wasn’t HIS man shaped stain. He stood, stuffed the beep-boop twinkle stick into his breast pocket and headed back to the Impossible Blue Box, whistling an Arcturian pop tune that wouldn’t be written for another eleven centuries.

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