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Best Stories on the Web

The Deadliest Sin

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The question was, go for the Nobel or just get unbelievably rich? If you are, or ever were, a research scientist, the answer would be obvious – go for the money.

My discovery was completely serendipitous. I was working as a post-doc in the metamaterials lab, but made a bit of cash on the side helping out the quantum computing guys in the laboratory next door.

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Volatile Chemicals

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Primo and I sat facing Mario and Dante in Mario’s office. Between us lay a table with a shoebox on it.

“Dante’s got another job for you two,” Mario said. “You work so well together, beauty and the beast.”

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How Good is Your Gay-Dar?

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The life of Ralston Amicous was the talk of the nation. But he was now dead and he didn’t give a shit anyway. Imagine, Hugh Hefner dying on the same day, September 28th 2017. Similar to John Addams and Thomas Jefferson dying on the same day, July 4th 1826.

It is all in the marvels of destiny.

Hef and Ami, two individuals who used the same medium to institute two distinct cultural shifts in sexual attitudes.

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The Irish Santa

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Mike Feeney threw a lighted match into the rusted half-barrel of firewood he had scrounged from nearby abandoned buildings and watched as the flames grew. He settled beneath the concrete bridge that had become home, and tightened a tattered blanket around his emaciated frame. He knew the fire would attract other hapless vagrants, but he didn’t mind. Numbers brought safety, company and conversation. They could share a bottle of whiskey or the stale bread he had pulled from a dumpster earlier that day.

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Eat Your Worms Grandad

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“Eat your worms Grandad!” Zane and Ariana, the two brattish offspring of his only son, Thomas, were yelling at him again. They loved to taunt him at breakfast, and when they were feeling especially cruel they would flick a dead mealworm, still covered in dirty brown sauce, at his face.

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The Vision

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O Brien...

That name I had always kept hearing in my dreams in childhood... A name that would soon mean nothing. For in the dreams I never remembered anything else... besides that name.

...O Brien.

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The Man Who Hated Pickles

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The lunch crowd was just starting to die out around the time Marty entered the dingy old diner. No doubt the dive had seen better days, probably before Sputnik caused millions of Russkies to raise a toast to the skies. The joint smelled of greasy burgers and body odor, and the Box Tops were warbling “The Letter” out of small distorted speakers strategically placed around the establishment.

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Illegal Frequencies

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Their mission was to find those dark and dingy “Dive Bars” to meet the neighborhood elders. They sought those original Brooklynites who held the oral history of their newly adopted neighborhood. That’s where they found Mickey McDougall. He was a long time neighborhood resident alcoholic and former playwright. The perfect person to spin the tale of “Illegal Frequencies” for the two metrosexual urban homesteaders.

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The Last Cavalry Charge in Cleveland

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Joseph Hussar got off the bus in downtown Cleveland. He was on an errand for his granddaughter that was to take him to unknown streets and silent memories. Kathleen had sent him to Ben’s Shoe Repair to have her ballet slippers, as she said, “re-built as only Ben can do it.”

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Goodnight Emily

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Richard Barrett gazed through the floor-to-ceiling office windows across the room without really registering the splash of sun on the lush gray carpeting, the roofs below or the tall buildings around his. He was doing a final 'test flight meditation', as he called it, of his latest design before submitting it to the builders. He didn’t mention this little fetish to other architects and designers because they might think it silly. He thought it a little silly sometimes, but remembered the tight, awkward, uncomfortable spaces he grew up in.

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