Without a Clue

Without a Clue-43 

Cornelius lost his head…just went completely off.  One moment he was calm, cool and collected, the next – frantic and frustrated.  He had no idea where he left the darned thing.  It was gone without a clue.  Sometimes he left it somewhere he wanted to remember to return to later (which was smart, right?) but couldn’t remember where it was later without his head.  Some times it just rolled off and bounced away on its own.  Somebody said he should get it fixed… but it wasn’t broken.  That’s just the way he was.  Besides, what would all the others say if HIS head was permanent…but what does everybody else do when they lose theirs?  Oh phoooey!!  Permanent heads…..that’s just crazy, it just isn’t done!

***This image was originally published in Analog Magazine, Sept., 2006.  My short, flash-fiction fragment is good for keeping my twitter friends comfortable.  Long posts make them skiddish.  You can find my first 3 books by following the link, above, to www.sallemander.com.  -Marsha 



Stop complaining!  Stop protesting!                                                                         You have your rights but don’t really need ’em.                                               We are the government.  We’re in control.                                                         This is American freedom.                                                                                              Anarchists, Hippies and Clowns, beware.                                                             We have the guns.  We know what’s best.                                                          If you make our corporate bankers upset                                                           we’ll pummel you under arrest.

***This week’s image is a page from our first book, “Marsha Mellow’s Blue-ish Freaks”.  Buy it.  find it by following the link above to www.sallemander.com.   -Marsha



The Clowns rose up in anger one day                                                                      deciding enough was enough.                                                                           They poured out into the streets en masse,                                                        yelling and juggling stuff. 

They wanted ‘equal rights’, they said,                                                                to be ‘taken seriously’.                                                                                                    An end to random giggles and leers.                                                                   They wanted respect, you see. 

Snarling traffic with mini Clown cars,                                                               squirtling flowers and ties,                                                                                         their strike turned into a riot (of sorts)                                                           pelting police with pies. 

They overwhelmed the barricades,                                                                storming the walls and ditches                                                                                  and made their way up to capital hill,                                                                    leaving the cops in stitches. 

But as they breached the chamber doors,                                                       their smiles turned into frowns,                                                                                  for the senate was already occupied                                                                      by Idiots, Mimes and Clowns.

I wrote this piece (and John illustrated it) almost two decades ago.  I thought, for sure, things MUST change for the better by now.  Anyway, it finally got published in our new book, “Bludgeon the Clown”…which you can find (and buy) following the www.sallemander.com link at the top.  -Marsha

Worse Day of My Life

“Worse day of my life…” began the stranger at the bar, “…the day I lost my HEAD!” He stared at me oddly, chuckling. His words hung in the air for a while as I wondered who the heck this guy was and why he was chatting me up. He sounded absurd!  “What?!” I asked, a little annoyed. “Yeah!” he continued, “It just tumbled off and rolled away. I couldn’t find it for a YEAR!” ‘How ridiculous’ I thought – but then, I remembered hearing about that sort of thing happening more and more these days. “I found it conjoined with some other dude’s left hand like a circus freak-show exhibit …awkward!”



I reached for my beer glass but knocked it over with the empty stump of my wrist. The stranger grinned at me and chuckled again knowingly. It seems that both my hands had quietly popped off and were crawling down the bar toward the attractive woman in the breasty, low cut blouse at the end…the one I was too shy to approach earlier. I didn’t know what they planned but I could just imagine what MY brainless hands might like to do with HER. That’s when I noticed the stranger’s collar – bolted tightly ‘round his neck. It looked positively medieval but locked his wayward head soundly to his torso. ‘How clever?!’ I thought.

The barkeep wiped up my spilled beer with a lovely pair of shapely, ladies arms –which did NOT match the rest of his otherwise burly, tattooed frame. He caught me staring but shrugged and nodded me in the direction of my hands as they broke into a run…..while the woman’s breasts leapt out of her blouse and took off in opposite directions.

***This image is featured in our new book, “Bludgeon the Clown” which is available now, just follow the link above to www.sallemander.com.  -Marsha