Jim Firth

“Bureau-cats” by Jim Firth

Submitted to Contest #169

CW: Brief, non-graphic violence.The meow of the klaxon called me to my third appointment. Finally, it was time for me to be seen. I weaved my way across the waiting room between bowls of cream, balls of yarn, and litter trays. Trust me, I wasn’t about to spring onto all fours and play with a ball of yarn whilst awaiting the outcome of my death. Why those bureau-cats left their rubbish lying around in a waiting room for humans was beyond me.I hopped onto the escalator. A vast network ...

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“Pool Boy” by Jim Firth

Submitted to Contest #168

CW: Mentions of adult filmsChris hears an unfamiliar sputtering in the driveway and pulls back the nicotine stained curtains of his family living room.‘Whoosat?’ His chain-smoking mother, Louise, shouts over The Perry Singer Show.‘It’s Dad!’Chris runs out to the driveway and watches his dad step out of a black van. ‘What’s with the surveillance vehicle? Is it ex-FBI?'‘Not quite,’ Dicky says. He slides the side door open a...

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“How Little the Painter Cares for the Girl” by Jim Firth

Submitted to Contest #167

‘It's on the house,’ I said, as I flashed The Painter my prettiest smile and handed him his espresso. He always gets free coffee when I’m on shift. I hope he appreciates that. Has he noticed the effort I’ve been putting into my appearance? I’ve been eating, sleeping, and exercising right. Today, I wore a pair of leggings that made my butt look great. I didn’t see him checking my shapely frame out, but it’s exactly that kind of artistic aloofness in him that I find irresistible. The fact that I ...

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“Bubblegum Pie” by Jim Firth

Submitted to Contest #166

‘I quit,’ says April Stanton, leaning on the countertop. She stares vacantly through the window of the truck stop at the heat rippling on the old highway. Her lips smack as she chews a wad of pink bubblegum. ‘This truck stop is as dead as a doornail.’Andrew Stanton, April’s father, looks at the dilapidated diner directly next to the truck stop. The desert has its own plans if Andrew doesn’t fix up the building soon. ‘The truck stop is not dead, April. It’s just in torpor.’And what about the diner? <...

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“Blubby and Me” by Jim Firth

Submitted to Contest #165

CW: Mental health. Brief sexual references.I feel a little shaky about my first shift as a twilight stock replacer. It’s 3 a.m., and I’m in the staff room of Savers supermarket.‘Are there any questions?’ Mandy, the manager, asks the team.The teenage girl, who came in late, raises her hand. 'Is it true that Mr Blubby is coming to open the store?’‘Yes, I've already covered that. Let’s get to work, everyone.’Every member of staff sleepwalks o...

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“Bodger” by Jim Firth

Submitted to Contest #164

CW: Mild foul language‘Where I come from,’ says Heinrich, ‘we don’t bodge jobs.’ Your boss has called you into his office to reprimand you for shoddy workmanship. Again.‘You need to go back and fix the roof,’ he says. ‘And the accident—we’ll get to that in a minute.’ Having your most recent work christened a bodge is a compliment, really. Neglecting to install a waterproof membrane on a new roof is beyond amateurish. I...

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“Cherry Bomb” by Jim Firth

Submitted to Contest #163

Despite being a successful television actor, Cherry Adams is a wayward young woman. Tonight, she fixates on a shopfront with pulsing neon signs—pressing her face on the glass and bathing hungrily in the rainbow light. She smears the windows with her oily skin, but the despondent newsagent who usually shoos her away with his broom has not made his presence felt yet. An automated street cleaning vehicle follows its preset route along the street where Cherry is ensconced. The sleepy nightshift operative who is supposed...

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“Gurn, Baby, Gurn” by Jim Firth

Submitted to Contest #162

To gurn: to snarl as a dog; to look savage; to distort the countenance.The evening before the world gurning finals, I was looking for a reasonably priced restaurant in Egremont, Cumbria, when I peered through the window of a curry house and saw Barry Jenkins scarfing down a bhuna. Distractedly, I perused the menu, but I knew I wouldn't be dining at that particular restaurant, because he was there. Anyhow, the menu was full of inauthentic anglicised fair; curries that had been adapted for milder palett...

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“Scatological Musings” by Jim Firth

Submitted to Contest #160

CW: Faeces I don’t want to come out. It’s warm and cosy in here. Being rudely ejected into a cold pool of water sounds horrific. Then to slide through the pipes to a facility where they repurpose you for drinking water? Thanks, but no thanks. The more open-minded stools among us say it’s a big adventure. They say it’s a kind of reincarnation—an alchemy of sorts. Yet, as a proud member of t...

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“Tropospheric Tryst” by Jim Firth

Submitted to Contest #158

Content warning: mentions of sex***A pair of disembodied genitals were frantically copulating on the wing of the plane. In the cabin, my fellow passengers were in hysterics. Mothers were shielding their children’s eyes. Perverts were enjoying the aeronautical erotica; filming it with their phones. An incensed mother, sitting in front of me, buzzed the flight attendant. ‘How could you be so irresponsible?’ She asked. ‘You allowed at least two passengers without Securi-pants onboard. Check for anyone who ...

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“Lackadaisical Monk” by Jim Firth

Submitted to Contest #157

Pandi struggled to fall asleep. The mosquito net his parents had given him when they packed him off to the monastery was riddled with holes. A mosquito landed on his arm; he lifted the net and shooed the insect away. After surviving a month in the monastery, he felt other things calling him. It was time to leave. Pandi left his quarters quietly and walked down the trail to where he had hidden his lay clothes. After changing out of his saffron kasaya robes into jeans and a t-shirt, he began winding his way down the m...

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“The Sauce Will Provide” by Jim Firth

Content warning: vulgar slangSurreptitious slurps of soy sauce were the only thing keeping Jean from going mad during the search for survivors on Planet Gatwad. When sneaking off from the group for a quick taste, she stumbled across a bunker. Obligated to investigate, she floated through its concrete walls and saw a figure dressed in a mascot costume, sprawled out on the floor. Its get-up was purple and furry—a far cry from the traditional Gatwadian garb.‘Oi! Wake up, furry bugger,’ Jean said.

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“Ghost Babies” by Jim Firth

Submitted to Contest #155

(Content warning: vasectomy/surgical references)I was minding my own—until everyone’s genitalia grew minds of their own. Scientists called it ‘Nocturnal Corporeal Dismemberment’. Whenever anyone became aroused during sleep, their reproductive organs went awol.When it all kicked off, I was spending most of my days on the island repairing small boats. As I caulked and sanded, the soothing waves sharpened my focus. There were rarely any distractions—unti...

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“Bach to the Future” by Jim Firth

Submitted to Contest #154

Moog Music Factory,Asheville, North Carolina,April 6th, 1980Demonstrating prototypes to money grubbing shareholders was never Steve Masakowski’s strong suit--but this product spoke for itself. It was radical. Audacious. Tubular, even. Today, he was introducing the Moog Liberation Keytar.'Pretty soon, pop stars will be wielding the Liberation onstage. It will provide keyboardists the freedom to move and dance while they play like never before.' Steve said.<...

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“Dollymops” by Jim Firth

Submitted to Contest #153

(Content Warning: Mentions of death and prostitution.)The whores of London affected the lives of every woman in Victorian England in one way or another. Susan Merrick might have joined their ranks had she not been born into circumstances so fortunate.Throughout her childhood, she was prejudiced against the dollymops by her mother, whose main objection seemed to be their showy outfits. Her mother cast the strumpets in a particularly unsympathetic light; ensuring that Susie would never wind up ...

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