Twenty minutes later, Snifty leaned back against his bar and wiped his brow against the bar rag. The Turvey had never had so many patrons as there were here today. None of them knew anyone else, but they were all here for the same thing: The Tweaking. In …

Kendreth Leary, manager of the targeted bank, had never trusted Tory or Constantine, even when they were a newly shacked up couple of fifteen months old. Something always seemed odd about the two of them. Maybe it was the flinty scruff on Con's chin, or t…

Loping along the highway in a bustle of activity and a Winebagel Scampmaster, Ossiary Lefthook sprang bodily towards the Arkansas border, more or less staying upon the tarmacked line of road that went by the name of Interstate 83.2, or "The Tagliatelle Ba…

The day of the Cow Rite had arrived, like a lover who had blacked out overnight and had finally come home from the pub. As the day dawned, a mauve haze like a spill of off-coloured milk on the dairy floor of the horizon, the fields blossomed with daffodil…