Alice Baburek

The Shifter

A wispy mist still hung in the moonlit night. She painfully fought the overpowering animalistic urge to manifest. Control had been a challenge since moving into the quiet little town of Willow Brook nestled deep within the wooded hills of southern Virginia.  

And for many years, she had tried to suppress it to keep it at bay. But she knew that the contorted and hideous transformation would surface at some point. Inviting the ghastly legacy shackled to her at birth.  

It did not matter where Mary Sawyer lived or how far she traveled. She could not hide nor run from her true, yet ungodly, destiny.

***

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today.” Mary distributed a thin pamphlet to each of the librarians around the oval oak table. The white blouse and blue dress pants pulled tight against her stocky sixtyish body. The meeting had ended, and it was time for refreshments.

“Mary…why did we have to meet? This information could have been sent in an email. This… meeting is a waste of time!” exclaimed Hubert Mills. His thin, aging body shook. Crooked fingers scratched his balding head. Round, thick glasses gripped his pointy nose.

“Hubert, it’s nice to get away from work. If you didn’t want to come, no one forced you. I like getting out and mingling with other librarians,” commented Rachael Sommers. “I look forward to our meetings.” Her smile lit up the room. Bouncy brunette curls lightly touched her shapely shoulders. Being the youngest among the group, everyone took notice of Rachael, especially Hubert.

“I’m not saying I don’t like conversing with all of you at the meetings; I just feel sometimes Mary takes advantage. The use of technology can cut out-of-pocket expenses. That’s all.” He adjusted his glasses.

Sara Waldin rolled her faded green eyes. She was the oldest in the group, and retirement was not an option. She lived and breathed books. 

“Give it a rest, Hubert. Next time, don’t come. You ruin it for the rest of us. I rather enjoy talking shop with people who understand me. Heaven knows most of the patrons can’t hold a decent conversation nowadays. They’re too busy scrolling on their phones or texting or instant messaging. How we lived years ago without cell phones…” Sara’s raspy voice trailed away.

Mary stood at the head of the table. Her hands folded in front. She listened to her colleague’s bicker. A tiny smile crept across her wrinkled face. “Hubert, you are correct. The list of upcoming best sellers could have been sent in an email. But it’s quite hard to discuss the various available options about acquiring the books for our collections using email. I know Willow Brook is the main branch, and the other three libraries are considered satellite stations. But each of you is responsible for their collections.” 

Sara was already investigating the snack table. A brownie and cupcake sat on her tiny plate. She shuffled over to the coffee urn. With a shaky hand, she tried to steady the Styrofoam cup. 

Rachael rushed to the older woman’s side. “Let me help, Sara.” She gently took the half-filled steaming cup. With a dash of cream and a teaspoon of sugar, she placed it back by Sara’s seat. 

“Why, thank you, Rachael.” Sara sat down and began to eat. 

Hubert looked around the cramped meeting room. He was the only male attending. Not that he minded—especially being around Rachael. Without saying another word, he heaped several pieces of pastry onto the plate. Minutes later, the band of librarians ate in silence. 

As they finished eating, goodbyes were exchanged. Rachael lagged. Mary noticed the time. The Willow Brook Public Library had few visiting patrons. It was almost closing time for the sleepy little library snuggled against the hills. 

“Is there something else, Rachael?” Mary asked. The older woman clicked the mic, announcing the five-minute warning until closing.

“Actually…if you could spare a few minutes.” Rachael rubbed the back of her neck. 

“Of course, of course. Give me a moment.” Mary held the door for the last remaining patron exiting the building, then locked the front door.

“Let’s go back into the meeting room.” The two women’s shoes echoed in the hallway. Once inside, Rachael began to sob.

“Rachael…why are you crying?” asked Mary. She guided her to a chair. Without hesitation, the young woman delved into an explanation.

“It’s my apartment complex. There are six units.” Rachael sniffed and wiped her nose with a tissue. She sat down across from Mary.

“There’s a new tenant. His name is…Rodney Wilson. He’s just been released from Petersburg Federal Prison from upper Virginia.” Mary remained silent. She had a hunch she knew where this conversation was going.

“Being a librarian, I did what should have been done and checked public records. He was convicted of assault and battery. A fifteen-year sentence.” Her lips and chin trembled.

“Rachael, did he hurt you?” Immediately, Rachael’s eyes held Mary’s. Her head moved slightly back and forth.

“But he’s going to,” whispered Rachael. Mary drew back. 

“Why would you think he wants to cause you harm?” pressed Mary. Rachael stared at her lap. 

“He said he is waiting—for the right time,” murmured Rachael. 

“How did this man end up in Willow Brook, of all places?” Mary crossed her arms.

“I don’t know. There are dozens of small towns from here to Petersburg. He could have picked any of them. Unfortunately, he picked Willow Brook.” Rachael’s head slumped.

“Rodney has to realize if something happens to you, he will return to prison. I’m sure he knows this. Why would he risk his freedom? It doesn’t add up,” stated Mary. Rachael’s eyes were red.

“Maybe he’s just trying to scare me…all bark, no bite,” replied Rachael.

“Or…maybe not. You must take his threat seriously, Rachael. Did you go to the police and report this?” Mary slid her chair closer to the table.

“Yes. I spoke with Detective Ellie Griffin. She told me he served his time and had the right to live anywhere. And until he tries to harm me physically, there’s not much she can do.” Rachael started to cry again.

“What about family?” asked Mary in a soothing tone.

“I…I don’t have a family. My mother passed away almost two years ago. I was an only child. I have no relatives on my father’s or mother’s side. I may have distant cousins, but I have no clue what their names could be or if they even exist. It’s just…me.” She dabbed at her watery eyes.

“And I would think moving would be out of the question. You shouldn’t have to lose your home because of Rodney’s intrusive behavior.” Mary waited a moment. “Why don’t you spend a few days with me? I have a wonderful cottage with a spare bedroom. It’s not much…” She waited for a response.

Rachael forced a smile. “You’re so kind, Mary. But I like my apartment. I should feel safe in my own home.” Mary gave a slight nod.

“Rachael, please be aware of your surroundings at all times. Lock your doors and windows. And if you hear anything, day or night, call the police.” Rachael stood up to leave.

“I appreciate your help, Mary. Thanks for a shoulder to lean on. I’ll be fine.” The two women faced one another. Suddenly, Rachael wrapped her arms around the older woman. Mary briefly held the upset woman.  Rachael eased away. 

“It will be alright, Rachael.” And without saying another, Rachael left the library to hurry home.

***

The urge to shapeshift had become overwhelming as she thought of Rachael’s safety. She had inherited her unique power from her mother’s long bloodline of shapeshifters spanning over a century. This rare ability was a type of metamorphosis—to change into something else.  

The last time Mary allowed herself to shift was at her mother’s funeral. Many had blamed Mary for her mother’s death. But Mary was the only one who knew the truth. And from that day forward, she vowed never to shift again—until now.

Mary realized Rodney Wilson would not stop. His evil intentions toward Rachael were clear. It didn’t matter to him if he returned to prison. He would eventually have his way with Rachael and destroy her life.

***

Mary stood silently in the shadows outside Rachael’s apartment building. Rodney Wilson lived in the bottom unit on the far side. His light was still on at one o’clock in the morning. The rest of the apartments were dark. Dampness hung in the night air. Mary moved along the brick exterior. She bent down and peered through the open blinds. 

Rodney sat alone on the tattered couch. His one hand held a beer while the other rubbed his crotch. The flat screen filled with images of pornography. 

Mary moved to the back entrance. Using her picks, she entered in under a minute. The dimly lit hallway enveloped the change. Her aged body shuddered as the transformation began. She forgot the extent of unbearable pain as her form twisted and contoured to alien skin. It felt like hours, but she knew it was mere seconds. The black leather material adhered to every curve. Mary licked her voluptuous lips. She had to hurry. She did not know how long she could hold the course.

Rodney’s breathing became labored. His hand moved faster and faster. A slight moan emanated from his drooling mouth. And then, before he could release, a knock on the door.

“What the…” His manhood deflated instantly. The marijuana he smoked a short time ago still hung heavy in the air. He slurped the remaining beer—another knock.

“Coming,” he shouted as he tried to get up. The wooziness almost made him puke. As he staggered to the door, a heavier knock came again.

Mary glanced about the empty area outside Apartment 1. Hopefully, all her pounding didn’t wake the neighbors, especially Rachael.

The knob turned several times. Finally, after a few more seconds, Rodney pulled it open. His eyes grew wide.

“Well…isn’t it the sexy woman from upstairs.” Mary slid her hands slowly down her snug leather outfit. Her tongue licked her lips. “Have you finally come to your senses, sweet thing?” His words slurred. 

“I’ve been watching you,” she whispered. Rodney belched. 

“Me? Well…let me tell you…something…I’ve been watching you!” he stuttered. He stepped back and opened the door even wider. “Let’s…get this party started, sweetheart!” 

Mary slinked inside the smelly apartment—a mixture of sweat, weed, and beer. The pornographic images on the television were frozen in place.

Rodney tried desperately to focus. His manhood was coming to attention by the thought of taking this woman right here, right now, in his private domain.

“I knew,” he stifled another belch, “you wanted it the first time I saw your sexy ass. Want to smoke some weed or….do you want a beer?” He swayed slightly.

Mary glanced at the pathetic loser of a man. She struggled to keep her image in place. Her bones ached. And since it had been so long since her last shapeshift the pain intensified with each moment she sustained Rachael’s mirror image.

“No. I came here for one reason and one reason only.” Suddenly, Mary felt she was losing control. Her body shook and shimmied. 

Rodney rubbed his grainy eyes. “What the…is going on? I must be wasted. You…you look like you’re changing.” Drool leaked from the corner of his sagging mouth.

Mary knew she had to act fast. Her shape was beginning to shift. “I want you to leave me alone, Rodney. And if you don’t, I might have to do something you will regret.” And with that said, Mary struck with full force. The knuckles of her fingers rammed into his Adam’s apple with just enough pressure. His spine crumpled.

Rodney gulped for air as he fell to the dirty carpet. He instantly rolled back and forth, grabbing at his neck.

As he finally was able to breathe, Mary leaned down close. Her face shifted again into a distorted hideous creature with protruding bloodshot eyes and jagged teeth. Saliva dripped from her grotesque mouth onto his heaving chest. She ran a long-rotted fingernail down his white, pallid face.

“Do we understand one another, Rodney?” Mary sneered then sucked in the pain. “Rodney, I asked you a question?” She tilted her oblong head filled with slimy black hair. His entire body trembled. 

Mary stood up. “I’ll take that as a yes. And if I see you look in my direction at any time, Rodney, I promise to come back and show you exactly how much I like you.” Mary winked her large, bulging eye, then puckered her ashen lips as if she was blowing him a kiss.

Sweat appeared on Rodney’s forehead. He could not move. His breath in gulps. He watched through bloodshot eyes as the creature turned and left the apartment closing the door behind.

***

The following month, the small group of librarians met once again. Mary was busy setting up the refreshment table. Rachael arrived a bit early and prepped the coffee urn. Sara and Hubert had just sat down and were discussing the latest bestsellers.

“Excuse me, everyone. May I have your attention, please? I am grateful for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend this meeting. With the holidays looming ahead, my list contains…” Mary continued, highlighting the handout. 

After an hour, the small group gathered at the table of pastries, courtesy of Hubert. Powder sugar stuck to his face as he licked his fingers.

“Well, I must say, Hubert, I was quite shocked by the fact you were the one to bring the snacks. They are quite tasty,” remarked Sara. The old woman shoved another cookie into her mouth. Hubert blushed at the compliment.

“I find it only appropriate to contribute to such…informative meetings. I agree to discuss the promising additions to our collections in person…well, it makes sense.” The three women clapped. Again, Hubert’s face blossomed red.

Within twenty minutes, the meeting area had been cleaned. The chairs were returned, and the table was folded. Hubert took his leave with Sara, leaving Rachael and Mary behind.

“I guess I better get back to the branch,” said Rachael. “Oh, I heard you were feeling under the weather, Mary. Is everything alright?” She wrinkled her brow.

“You could say I just didn’t feel like myself. But it passed. Nothing a little rest couldn’t fix. I’m fine now,” replied Mary, trying to hide her grin. 

Rachael turned to leave. “By the way, Rachael, how are things with the new tenant? Is he still bothering you?” Mary crossed her arms.

The young woman hesitated before she spoke. “It’s the strangest thing…I saw Rodney in the stairwell the other day. Usually, he snickers or makes gross sexual remarks, but this time it was different. He barely looked at me. He hurried to get inside his apartment. I felt relieved. Maybe things will be alright after all.” Rachael smiled. 

Mary took a deep breath. She wished to tell Rachael her secret but knew it could never happen. That was the mistake Mary’s mother had made and it cost her life. So, Mary would have to settle for keeping her secret and the fact that Rodney Wilson would never bother Rachael again.

Salvatore Difalco

The Male Gaze

Maybe my imagination is out of focus.
By law, I can no longer trust my eyes,

nor can the world at large trust them.
Indeed they’re crimes waiting to happen.

I still believe I innocently perceive 
the beautiful when I see it, and daily 

feast on its sundry optical banquets.
After all, what the eyes see, the mind believes

and what it believes nourishes the soul.
A beautiful day is thus a beautiful day.

But when the eyes see legs coming 
down the street, long legs, lean legs,

tanned legs with golden bristles, 
legs like fiery chariots, legs like wings,

legs like verses from God’s epistle,
denial doesn’t amount to disbelief, 

nor raising the hands as if to block 
the eyes from a radiating sun flare,

or a thermonuclear blast. Avert them
how when the legs are thrust upon you,

striating, striding, flexing—fragrant
as the summer breeze they part and flail?

Maybe go Biblical and pluck them out?
But presuming all this, did God not make

me with these eyes? Did God not also make
these legs I see divine to some degree?

Brooks Lindberg

Etiquette & Vitriol

For Nicky Silver

You’ve never met a normal person.
But I have. And I’ve learned my lesson:

people with manners made me who I’m not.

Swallow your gum then
shit in your own mouth
please. Guess what this is:

{(;)}

LOL ROFL IYKYK BTW
do you know how long
I’ve loved you? Never
boils, a watched pot.

Épater la bourgeoisie
or—less like a bundle of sticks—
evil shall with evil be
expropriated. You said once

David Foster Wallace’s footnotes
were like him shitting into his own
{(;)} but do not to mention that to anyone because

it’s too highbrow which is above
where one should actually
shit into. And BTW, do you, yes,

you know how much I love you?
I tried to pray yesterday
but couldn’t. Oh
well that ends well.

I’m well; how are you?
Hi well, I’m dad.
Hi dad, fuck you.

Well, this needs to end somehow.
Nohow. Yeshow. Somehow. Hey,
while I got you for a second,
guess how much I love you.

Until then, goodnight sweet
cocksucker*.

*Insert footnote about how cocksucker actually means {(;)}, lol 😉

Daniel de Culla

Sir, Your Denture

I was walking with my friend Jesus
On the seashore of San Vicente de la Barquera
In Cantabria, Spain
One afternoon when the beach had a red flag
And there was no lifeguard on duty.
He took out his cock and started peeing, saying:
-Look, Petronilo, look!
Here comes Neptune, king of the seas
Strong, with a black beard and long tunic
Coming to manipulate my penis
6’5″ long
With all the forms of masturbation
Trying to perform divine magic
With gods, deities, and sea monsters
Like tritons or nereids and sirens
Like Amphitrite, Salacia, and Venilia
Who are skewered by the slit on his trident
Like sardines on an inquisitorial skewer.
I answered:
-Jesus, it’s not Neptune or Amphitrite, Salacia, or Venilia
It’s your own imagination
While you were jerking off after urinating.
Afterward, we sat on a stone bench
On the seafront.
Jesus, who feels and remembers everything, said to me:
-Now I remember my maid Constancia
Who my wife Minerva hired
To do Housework.
She was Colombian and a sight to behold.
One day, I promised her extra pay
For performing cunnilingus on her.
At first, she resisted
Because I could be her father
And she my daughter
But then, thinking it over, she said yes.
-Listen, Constancia
Your pussy is very cold.
I’m going to put some Anís del Mono (Monkey Anise) on it
To warm it up.
Constancia moaned at my licks and bites.
We stopped when we felt my wife returning
From her nightly worship before an altar.
The next day
When my wife went shopping
Constancia came to me
With a small plate in her right hand.
She stood before me
And with a deep woman’s voice she said:
“Sir, here’s your denture
That you left stuck in the lips of my vagina.
I answered her saying:
-Constancia, my heart
For you I lost my teeth.
Tomorrow I’ll stick my dick in your pot
That’s what I want most
With another extra paycheck
Being careful not to leave my balls
Inside Indeed.

Ivan Jenson

Matched

I am so much
like you
in that I differ
from everyone
or so I think
and thus I feel
somehow anointed
and appointed
the position of
an almost saint
and sometime
sinner on the run
from something
or someone
who might
wound me
after loving
my true self
and like you
no one else
understands this
dichotomy within
my naked anatomy
because I fear
that which I desire
the ice age
after the fire
the morning after
the one night
walk on
passion’s high wire
and thus
we both hide
because we think
we must
like love, cower
under the cover
of lust
and all this is just
another way
of saying
that for both of us
the online dating scene
has been a complete
and total bust

Preacher Allgood

the language of love in a land of despair

six billion people on the planet
and our karmas intersect in a town so small
it can’t afford a marching band or a patron saint

fifty-eight million square miles of land mass on the planet
and our lives bump into on another
in a two-stall carwash off the old highway 
while I’m wearing cut-off blue jeans that expose
my emaciated old man legs and bony knees 

she’s about thirty and obviously from out of town
chestnut hair and deep green eyes
sixty-eight hundred languages more or less
spoken on this planet dominated by jabber mouths
and all I can think to say is nice day

oui she replies
a fucking Frenchie what the hell 
in this dinky town in this backward state
with nothing for miles around
but cow pastures and wheat fields and stifling heat

a hot fucking frenchie
ten feet away from me
and I dodder like my cousin Howie
who hasn’t been able to eat solid food
since Nixon took his final copter ride 

one expert says the average person will speak
over three quarters of a billion words in a lifetime
but the next gems that fall out of my mouth are nice car

can you believe it?
a hot fucking frenchie in a sleek BMW 
in a concrete car wash in dead as hell Gutmore, Kansas
and our entire relationship amounts to five words 
and that humiliating moment when the soapy mist from my spray gun
drifts into those mesmerizing eyes

David Seger

Attachment

It’s a sick thought-
but it’s comforting.

I know she would agree,
if she still had a tongue.

We’ve known each other for weeks,
and we’re made for each other.

Life got too busy for us,
so I brought her home with me.

I’m sure she is glad for all I’m doing,
she doesn’t even have to get out of bed anymore.

If she still had her arms,
she’d hug me-
to comfort my trembling hands.

Those terrified eyes,
will soon be full of love.

I get my thread and needle,
and I begin working
on our attachment.

Neal Hallgarth

Easter ‘98

We got paid double time and a half on Easter Sunday, so I went in
Matt was there and another guy Dave

Matt had me listen to Big Black and Shellac
but The Notwist was more my speed
Dave played air guitar under his cubicle

We mocked him with Hal 9000 quotes
“I’m sorry, Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“My mind is going…I can feel it.”

I told Matt about the time I met Christy Canyon

While bowling one night, Kurt said she was giving autographs at the porn store on Aurora
so we went in

I joined the line up along the adult toys and leather
while my friends browsed nonchalantly

We could all see her

Breasts hanging over a lacy blue corset, matching panties and stockings
big hair, lots of blush

The guy behind me asked if I was a fan
I confessed
I hadn’t watched her work
He narced on me as I stepped up

I should have told him to wait his turn
Instead I flushed in shame

We, Christy and I, were both glowing red and radiant 
as her husband filmed the whole thing on camcorder

To make it right
I bought a movie and autograph
She signed “Neal, fuck me hard and deep, Love Christy, XOXO”
She hugged and kissed me
and smelled like heaven on a hot day

I beamed with requited courage
as Kurt and the other guys teased me
on the way home

At work that Easter Sunday, the one lead didn’t care what we did or talked about
except Dave couldn’t sit under his cubicle and play air guitar
We all put on our headphones and tested

Ken Griffey Jr.’s Slugfest on the Gameboy Color
The tiny people on the little backlit screen
blinded me

I didn’t know then
I was seeing the future

Guy Cramer

Saddam Hussein

Alright class,
the teacher said,
Which one of you 
can tell me about 
Saddam Hussein?
Murderer!
          Thief!
           Psychopath!
Can you tell me 
when he died?
100 years ago!
   10 years ago!
         Yesterday! 

One girl, Tawny,
raised her hand
saying her two uncles 
had a possum 
in their back yard
they named
Saddam Hussein, 
they let him stay
clearing out all 
the deer ticks,
slugs, & snails,
ensuring the safety  
of their garden. 
One night they 
pulled him off the fence,
bludgeoned him
over the head, 
boiled him in a pot,
ate him, &
used his bones 
for fertilizer. They
won first place for their 
beefsteak tomatoes
at the county fair. 

Everyone in class 
hung their heads
taking a moment 
of silence, 
feeling sorry for 
Saddam Hussein. 

Alex S. Johnson

Chocolate Dab Wax Monster: A Bone City Tale Featuring Kandy Fontaine, Slutty Detective

Bone City never slept. It twitched. It moaned. It pulsed with neon and pheromones, a place where reality bent under the weight of too much lube and not enough law. And in the heart of it all, behind the velvet curtain of a strip club called the Velvet Guillotine, Kandy Fontaine stirred a bubbling vat of madness.

She wore a lab coat over fishnets, stilettos that could puncture a man’s soul, and a smirk that had gotten her banned from three dimensions. Kandy wasn’t just a slutty detective—she was a chaos chemist, a femme fatale with a PhD in bad decisions.

“Joe,” she said, not looking up from the swirling goo, “this is going to change everything.”

Joe Oroborous, her partner in crime and tantric yoga instructor, leaned against the wall, puffing on a vape pen that smelled like enlightenment and regret. He was shirtless, as usual, his body a roadmap of tattoos and bite marks.

“You said that last time,” he replied. “We ended up summoning a sentient bong that tried to unionize.”

“This is different,” Kandy said, dropping a strand of Velociraptor DNA into the vat. “Chocolate dab wax. Ninety-nine percent THC. Spliced with dinosaur genetics. It’ll get you stoned and make you extinct.”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “You’re making a weedosaur.”

“I prefer ‘ChocoDabadon’.”

The vat hissed. The goo bubbled. The DNA writhed. Then—boom.

The explosion was small, but the consequences were not. From the shattered beaker and swirling smoke emerged a creature: ten feet tall, dripping with resin, its scales glistening like caramelized obsidian. It had claws shaped like dab tools and eyes that pulsed with psychedelic fury.

It roared—a sound like a bong hit amplified through a Marshall stack—and smashed through the wall, lumbering into the neon-lit streets of Bone City.

The monster’s breath was pure THC. Entire blocks were hotboxed in seconds. Citizens wandered in a daze, giggling, munching on street lamps, proposing to fire hydrants. The mayor declared the city a “420 sanctuary” and married a vending machine.

Kandy and Joe watched from the rooftop of the Velvet Guillotine, sipping mezcal and trying not to inhale too deeply.

“We need to stop it,” Joe said. “Before it turns the whole city into a stoner wasteland.”

Kandy lit a joint shaped like a crucifix. “Bone City’s already a stoner wasteland.”

“Fair. But this thing’s different. It’s primal. It’s horny. It’s high.”

Kandy exhaled. “So are we.”

They tracked the beast to the ruins of the Bone City Zoo, where it had built a nest out of vape cartridges, lingerie, and discarded copies of High Times. It was mating with a billboard of Tommy Chong.

“We need to neutralize it,” Joe said, loading his vape gun with concentrated CBD rounds.

Kandy shook her head. “No. We need to seduce it.”

Joe blinked. “You mean…?”

“Yes. We turn it into a smokable sex toy.”

Back at the lab, they worked fast. Kandy synthesized a pheromone blend from crushed aphrodisiac terpenes and Joe performed a tantric summoning ritual involving goat yoga and interpretive moaning. The monster arrived, drawn by the scent and the sound, its eyes swirling like lava lamps.

It roared, but this time it sounded… curious.

Kandy stepped forward, holding a vibrating nanotech dildo shaped like a raptor claw. “Hey, big guy,” she purred. “Wanna get smoked and stroked?”

The monster paused. Sniffed. Drooled.

Joe activated the containment field. The latex wrapped around the creature like a lover’s embrace. The nanotech pulsed. The pheromones surged. The beast moaned—a sound like Cheech and Chong having a spiritual awakening.

Then it compressed. Shrunk. Transformed.

The result? The world’s first THC-powered, dinosaur-themed, smokable sex toy.

Bone City sobered up. The monster was gone. The streets were safe. And Kandy Fontaine had a new product line: Jurassic Joints™—Get Stoned. Get Boned.

The mayor annulled his marriage to the vending machine and declared Kandy a civic hero. Joe got a tantric medal of honor. The Velvet Guillotine hosted a launch party featuring edible lingerie and a DJ who only played whale sounds.

Kandy lit the tip of the claw and took a drag. “Tastes like victory.”

Joe nodded. “And extinction.”

But Bone City never stayed quiet for long.

A week later, a haunted vape lounge opened on the edge of town. Rumor had it the ghost of a foot fetishist was seducing customers through scented fog. Kandy packed her pheromone pistol. Joe grabbed his lube grenades.

They rode off into the haze, ready for the next case.

Because in Bone City, weird was just the beginning.