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Short Fiction by Phil Musgrave

One of the stangest and most rewarding jobs I had in the Past was that of a stage hand for the local University in my town. It did not pay much but the reward came from the muaic and the people I met. I acutly met Atlo Guthrie, of Alice's Restaurant fame. but me bieng the not up in the know said "hi so your Arnald", Harry Chapin was also a good concert I will never forget, "some trakstar yells thank god he's is leaving" It was partime work, but the hours were strange 8am to 4am

the mats had to go down on the Gym floor then the staging and the chairs The big name like, " Blood sweat and tears," were booked into a Downtown Arena, after the show I would go with my friend to supper I always remember the floor was at a angle. and after a long work shift you could hear a cricket sing in the inside the baseboard Like it was a hot summer evening in the middle of winter.They make that sound by rubbing their leg together. If Your a female cricket lunch has been served. or is that a mantis. they teach bio;igy at University. My dad was one of them so I should know these things.



Short Fiction the Mistake by Phil Musgrave

Short fiction The Abortion by Phil Musgrave

Tom is Giving a  lecture to his 18 year old daughter. Somthing he was very qualified to do, as he was a tenured psychology  professor at the local universiity.

"Don't ever make the mistake of thinking your doctor who recommends abortion is on your side,  the facts can change and what medical science thought was and inheritable condition today. That belief could change tomorrow. take for Example the great physicist Stephen Hawking told by doctors he had only two months to live. What a gift a gave to our little part of the universe." 

Veronica you were a loved child, a wanted child. Being a parent has been a wonderful adventuere for me. yet the advicee was not to have you because the risk was you might inherit my condition, but you never did. Love is what it is all about. I used to think all kids needed a back yard. I hard economic times childern will adjust, they make do.

There is no feeling in this world, no bell tone so mornful as sounded at the funeral of a childless widow 16 years without a husband. The kids on the street asking for change it is not money thay want, it is love.kids don't need money they just need you. or someone else who wants to love them.  I am not saying love is easy. there are times when it might tear apart your dreams,  back you into a corner. or cause you pain and cost you your health.

Then on the other hand a child is a gift from God to be loved and wanted.


Short fiction copyright Phil Musgrave

“What is it Ebe” asked Andrew in a pensive mood?


Ebe “I have a new nose for you.”

“A new what?”

“Yes, Andrew it has a better filter then the one you've got now. So, you might not have to pick it so much I mean there's no mucus.”

“Ebe, I don't know where you got this idea that I pick my nose, don't you know Republicans never pick their nose.”

“Andrew it's a good fit, I measured it to your face it's made of aluminum and has a HEPA filter.”

“Aluminum Might that be a little cold when I'm out skiing.”

“I never really thought of that Evie said I was just thinking of in doors.”

“And what do I do with my old nose I guess that one goes in the garbage?”

“Really Andrew, you know I could keep it alive and in a Petri dish.”

Andrew contemplated his nose growing in a Petri dish and then began to wonder why Ebe suddenly had this concern for his nose. It was as good as any other you might call it Roman, but it wasn't that big. yes, he had to admit the finger fit well up it and he believed getting that stuff out must be beneficial. Ebe was a machine, and her constant pursuit of perfection was beginning to get on Andrew's nerves. Next, she would be trying to replace other more private parts.

There was something to be said for aging with dignity no other friend he knew of had an aluminum nose. 

“I am assuming it would tan at the beach” Andrew remarked to Ebe and then added “here lies Andrew’s nose in a Petri dish with flowers born September 23rd, 2026, and put aside for a better aluminum model.


Fog it was in London, it was not in London, no it was fog in Canada. Barth loved fog, but every time it got foggy, his sister’s voice over the phone peevish with anxiety. She practically lived in her car, and fog messed with her mind. “It is not as bad as I thought it would be now that I am driving in it.” Barth’s mind drifted to the subject Fog, 


“Private,” he thought, “the thicker the better. Sometimes an angel heralding an abrupt change in weather. Yet as much a part of God's creation as the Robin in spring.” 


“Are you even awake? Count backwards from $100.00 taking away $7.00 each time”


“Oh, do not go on with that. I happen to like fog It is part of the world God made


"You and your, God why does God have to be male, I can feel no love form God.”


Both Barth and his sister had grown up in a devoted faith environment. He himself did not have the conceit to question the creator of a Universe that had evolved in time and was still in motion not always to follow the rules of earth-bound science,


“Fog is beautiful like the stardust of the Orion Nebula it is a happy place A part in the time of Gods act of creating a beautiful counterpoint to humankind’s pain of war. “


“You're just being stupid now. Why is God not a woman?” 


“Because, my dear sister, God, at least the Jesus we know, was a man”


Why does God allow war.


Barth “human Kind and Chimps and even Lions Make war.

  ne Eye Short Fiction

Short fiction