Sections | Fiction | The Sun Magazine #91

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Hitched to the University of the South at Sewannee, Tennessee. School was out and there were few people around — my last visit I stayed at Beta Phi fraternity — so checked it out again — no one around, but back door conveniently open, so I made myself at home.

By Nyle Frank July 1978

Research And Other Disasters

Parapsychology, like every other science, is in the business of doing research. At least as important as research, if not moreso, is publishing. . . . These folks are serious. It’s the right thing to do, of course. If they don’t take themselves seriously, who will?  . . . What follows is a parody of the type of article typically found in one of the parapsychological journals, or in any scientific journal.

By David Searls February 1978

On The Astral Plane To Puerto Rico

I, Arthur Milstein, have had a shitty life. I have found difficulty finding gainful employment. I most recently had a position carving names on gravestones, but I was dismissed owing to poor spelling. I usually spell well but not under intense pressure.

By Karl Grossman December 1977

Not Quite Our Sort

“Anything,” I say. “Anything but that.” They were trying to make me eat chicken. As an intelligence agent I had been through the wringer many times — torture, torture, forever torture. But I hate chicken. I detest chicken. I would tell them anything if I had to eat chicken.

By Karl Grossman November 1977

Paul And The Finger And Steely Dan

He was no one you’d pause to stare at; it was what he said that belied his craziness. Ask him any question; he would answer it as perversely as possible, every time. “Paul, what’s it like outside?” “It’s a perfect day for a rape.” “Paul, what’s for dinner?” “Children’s genitalia, in red clam sauce.”

By Richard Gess October 1977

The Vampire Of Menitz

The people of Menitz could never remember a time when there had not been a vampire. So of course it was hard for them to remember the details of the good old days.

By Randee Ascher July 1977

Six Stories

The life insurance salesman will be here soon. He will put it to him bluntly: he has responsibilities. In his case, there are photographs of the funeral. He is a handsome corpse. He feels flattered.

By Sy Safransky May 1977

Spies Don’t Kill Each Other

Fletcher E. Driscoll felt the day getting warmer. He was in the back seat of a Land Rover, blindfolded. It must be noon, he thought, bouncing along what seemed to be a crude jungle road.

By Karl Grossman May 1977

How To Cook Chevrolets

“But man must live in his environment. So our solution is simple. We alter the digestive system, replace it with a treatment plant. Then anybody can eat cars, cement, you name it.”

By Karl Grossman April 1977

The Magus

I walked back over the dry earth to that gate. I stood in front of those two men. I was going to say to the one who seemed capable of understanding that I had no choice, I must do this terrible thing to him. But I left a fatal pause of a second to elapse.

By John Fowles April 1977
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