Previous short stories featured on The Toast can be found here. They hadn’t expected sleaze at their romantic getaway, but sleazy it was. The motel’s parking lot was crazed with cracks, and loose tiles flapped from the carport roof. Huddled into the shelter of a payphone, a woman with fried blonde hair was cursing into the receiver and blowing jets of smoke out of her nose. Claudia and Leonie looked at her, and they…
When I saw the little red notification this morning, my heart both sank and hissed in delight within me. How he has sunk, I thought to myself, and I was not at all wrong. You abject, you pathetic, you craven child, to come crawling to me, begging me to approve of whatever vile little endeavor you have cobbled together to convince yourself that you exist. How like you, at this late point, to suggest to me…
Elyse had a wedding to go to, and she needed clean underwear. She flipped through Glamour as she waited for her clothes to dry. The dryer cost a quarter for every 8-minute increment, and Elyse was trying to be better about not wasting money. So, after letting the dryer run for an initial 48 minutes, she put in a single quarter and let it run for 8 more. The clothes were never dry, though sometimes…
You're always welcome to stop in for a tour. Everything about the grounds is designed to say: "Welcome. We think your resentments will be very happy here." That's why we greet every visitor with the same reminder that's served as our unofficial slogan ever since our founding: Your Resentments Are Our Business. There are many good reasons an owner may decide to entrust his resentments to us for a long or a short stay. You…
Late-night shifts in a celestial graveyard – the gravestones are sunk into layers of star stuff. The wraiths drift along paths composed of nebulae, burning gas and color forced to consider order. Staff ask for cooperation when the supernova crypts threaten to redshift and take a galaxy of dead royalty with them. An unseen grave is still a grave and flowers should be placed in urns or vases close to the voids where families lie…
I. Cleveland Here are some of the things that Megan sells at her job: Breeze Machine T-shirts. Breeze Machine hooded sweatshirts. Breeze Machine stickers (three for five dollars). Breeze Machine's first album on vinyl. Breeze Machine's newest album on compact disc and vinyl. Breeze Machine wristbands (for irony, she assumes. They sell well but she's never seen anyone wearing one. It's also possible that people buy them because they're cheaper than the T-shirts). This is…
The ruins of the Tormented Necropolis were charred and smoking. The limp, motionless bodies of the Quicksilver Companions littered the landscape, bristling with arrows, many of which were being methodically and efficiently removed by the Night Dwarves. Each arrow gave up its place in their flesh reluctantly with a loud thunk.
“Didn’t end well.” Punch line. Laughing. I got 'em, no question. I’m off the stage now and left on a high note. It’s not always this good, though. I’m addicted to the people, to the laughs, the spotlight, the stage. I dunno, it’s a natural high. Keeps me off the other shit, I guess.
My first gig? Total bust. Got booed off. Two lemons hit me on the way down. Yep. Then, like a…
The summer Adam took a job at the Department of Examinations and Standards was the same his friends had started working for free. People were kinder than they had to be. They looked into their wines and said "Well at least it's writing." “Writing” in italics. "At least it's honest." He had replied, more than once, and had then excused himself to go stand in the bathroom. "Honest" in bold. The places his friends were…
The thing you had to know about her, the most important thing, was that she was very much like all of the other girls. So when she moved to town, or started attending the exclusive and mysterious boarding school in the mountains, people noticed in a general sort of way, in the sort of way you notice new people, but that was pretty much it. She wasn't unusually good or bad at anything that would…
We are the Watchers of Weight. We watch. We wait. We watch the Weight, and we watch for the Weight. We have been waiting for you for some time now. I am-- I am no longer as I hoped I would be, for the day when you came. Had you come but a few years ago, you would have seen our city at the height of its flower, would have seen spires and parapets and…
CASE 91622-F, 17:30 – GOOGLE SEARCHES “best mac and cheese ever” “fan death” “trying my best to love you” “mambo no. 5” Arthur rested his chiseled jaw on his large, rugged hand with an air of effortless masculinity before launching headfirst into his nightly review of this particular case, his favorite. It’s surprisingly easy to keep secrets from the FBI, he’d discovered, but only for those who were trained to find them. A mislabeled file…
The man she loves/loved/will love is about to be married. While she was busy time-traveling--Saving the world from crisis!--he could not wait the two minutes it would take her to get back to his era to re/acquaint him with her. But why should he stop courting one plain, non-time-traveling lady in hopes that another woman—one whom he hasn’t yet met—will show up?
You coming in or just want to let flies get through my nice screen door? Come on in, honey, we don't bite. Not even Darryl here [jerks head toward Darryl, who does not move]. Can I getcha cup a coffee? Piece a pie? We got brochures to the cavern tours if you're here for the caverns. The sign? Yeah, the sign out front's spelled right. Painted it myself. Why do you ask? No, honey, Bone…
There are voices calling from the trees. One of them is hers.
*
It’s hot. Our sheets smell of nightsweat. Her skin is damp and tastes of salt. She stretches out, naked, every hair visible in the hyper-real white light.
“Maybe we should go for a walk. In the woods? They’re right outside.”
She sits up and looks at the trees. “No,” she says. “Never in the woods.”
