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Check out what the second print issue of MFOB has to offer:
Mouth Full of Bullets Winter 2007 – Published: December 25, 2007
Blowing Smoke by Stephen D. Rogers Hard Light by Michael Morris High Anxiety by John M. Floyd Highs and Mellows by Clair Dickson Killer Personality by Wanda C. Keesey The Christmas Heist by Kim Smith The Santa Caper by Philip J. Lees Whoever Fights Monsters by D. H. Reddall FLASH FICTION A Protocol to Die For by Margaret B. DavidsonDevil's Night by Kaye George Dreaming of a Spite Christmas by BV Lawson Gravidational Force by Barry Ergang The Last Laugh by Jonette Stabbert Mistaken Identity by Jillian Berg Mortimer's Slip by Sophie Bachard Your New Fan by Keri Clark
POETRY
My Brother of Arms by Danny B. Bourg The Assignation by James S. Dorr Research, Your Honor by Stephen D. Rogers Tables Turned by Guy Belleranti Mask by Gerald So A Killer Caught Red Handed by Guy Belleranti Do You See Me Then by Danny B. Bourg Carl's Bad Kid by Branch Isole BAYOU WRITERS GROUP CONTEST WINNERS 2nd Place: Small Town Boy by Jessica R. Ferguson 1st Place: Bloody Trouble by Peggy Borel
To purchase a copy, print an order form (click for order form), fill it out, and mail with: Within US: send check/money order for $6.00 (includes S & H) to: Mouth Full of Bullets P.O. Box 138 Mathews, LA 70375
One-year subscription: $24.00 (includes S & H) Louisiana residents: include 8.7% sales tax
Outside US: $10.00 per copy, $40.00 one-year sub (US funds only)
When ordering multiple copies of single issue, please specify number of copies and the title of the desired issue.
ADVERTISE WITH MFOB Rates per issue: $10 for inside page $20 for back cover Mail check or money order (US funds only) to: Mouth Full of Bullets P.O. Box 138 Mathews, LA 70375 For more information, e-mail:
SNEAK PEEK into print issue:
High Anxiety by John M. Floyd Joe McClellan led a simple life. He had a wife, two kids, a mortgage, a respectable job, and very few complications. No excitement, no mystery, no oddities. At least until now. Joe wondered, on his drive home from the airport, what could have happened in their quiet little neighborhood. His wife had left him a disturbing voicemail message before her commute to work this morning: last night in the wee hours she'd seen two police cars and an ambulance in the street in front of the Hickams's house, next door. The only thing in front of it now was Bill Hickam, raking the leaves in his yard. Joe parked the car, plopped his luggage down on his driveway, and strolled over. "Everything okay, Bill? Peggy said you had some excitement last night." Bill Hickam stopped raking. He was a big man, blond and red-faced. Thanks to a recent downsizing he was unemployed, but his wife Mary––some kind of computer guru, Joe had heard––apparently kept their heads above water. "The police cars, you mean?" "And she mentioned an ambulance," Joe said. "Long story." Bill pointed his rake at the ground. "It's these dern leaves, caused it all." Joe blinked. "The leaves?" This page was last updated on 01/05/08. |
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STORIES