The dead continue to dance, drink and make sportive in this story from chelsea g. summers. Belly up to the bar and pour yourself a tall frosty glass of what-the-fuck, here at the Saloon at the Ends of the Worlds…
The Road Warrior, Satan, Kali-Ma and the Whore of Babylon walk into a bar.
“Gimme a pint, ey?” The Road Warrior spat at the barkeep.
“Why do you have to be so insufferably cliché?” the Whore of Babylon said. She looked around the room, through its crepuscular gloom. “Jesus, what a dump.”
“I know,” said Kali-Ma, “I could crap a better existence than this.”
Satan tried to order an Irish Car Bomb. The barkeep told him they were out of C-4. Satan pointed to a dusty
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Welcome to my nightmare, Art Monkeys.
At our last session, Marlo Marquise posed as Elizabeth Short, better known to the world as the Black Dahlia. The Black Dahlia, like the Black Panther, Black Lightning, and Black Goliath, was an ethnic character created by a writer trying to appear socially relevant. Like Alex DeWitt, she is most famous for being killed and disposed of in a particularly gruesome fashion, thus inspiring a whole generation of women to become horribly dismembered in pursuit of some fleeting glimpse of stardom. But enough of the history lesson! There are breasts to ogle! Take us away, Justin Lussier!
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We’re celebrating the fifth anniversary of Dr. Sketchy’s with apocalyptic flash fiction. Sydney T. Bernstein tells a tale from beyond apocalypse, a vision where ghastly spectres dance and pose and people pay for the privilege of watching, an image pleasing to the lugubrious Dr. Sketchy...
The Last Sketchyblog
I was there at the beginning, you know. So much has changed over the years, and yet we endure. When the Lucky Cat closed, there were those who were skeptical that Dr. Sketchy’s Anti-Art School could last. When the Slipper Room closed for renovations, there were those who said that the then homeless Dr. Sketchy would not be around for much longer. When Manhattan was evacuated, there was no shortage of doubters who said that Dr. Sketchy’s Anti-Art School would go the way of so many
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Greetings, Art Monkeys!
Recently at Dr. Sketchy's Anti-Art School, we did a tribute to Andy Warhol's factory. Some of you may be thinking, "Wait a minute! Didn't you already do an Andy Warhol-themed session?" That just shows how little you understand pop-art. We have to do a series of Andy Warhol sessions, each one coloured differently. This time around, we had Dante Posh as Grace Jones, Miss Southern Comfort as Jean-Michel Basquiat, Miss Vivian as Edie Sedgewick, and Madame Rosebud as Andy himself. Justin Lussier took copious photographs of the event.
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It’s another installment that celebrates Dr. Sketchy’s Anti-Art School’s fifth anniversary in apocalyptic flash fiction. Want to get in on the godhead destroying fun? Email your short piece, a one-sentence bio, and any impertinent links to .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)/*= 0)out += unescape(l[i].replace(/^\s\s*/, '&#'));while (--j >= 0)if (el[j].getAttribute('data-eeEncEmail_irYdtLhdKq'))el[j].innerHTML = out;/*]]>*/.
By Mike Caprio, who gave us no bio.
A party of seven wandered across a trackless, endless desert. Their minds wore thin, as thirst and heat punished their bodies. There was no hope, no oasis of safety waiting over the next dune. Soon they began sharing their hallucinations... and somehow they were all fighting over slices of a lime, sucking on the
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In celebration of Dr. Sketchy’s fifth anniversary on December 11, 2010, and in anticipation of the ensuing world’s end, writers are submitting apocalyptic prose. Today’s offering comes from
Brice Stratford, a London-based disgraced dandy and rural landed gentry; a liar, fighter, actor, and writer. Mr. Stratford spends his days writing films nobody wants to make and stories nobody wants to read, then getting paid to hit people with swords; he fancies himself “Orson Welles meets Oliver Reed, by way of Gomez Addams.”
And so it came to pass.
The fifth sun has been swallowed by wolves, four horsemen are charging through a scorched sky, planes are dropping, meteors striking, zombies crawling, and the great God
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