Elon Musks From Perpendicular Universes. by Sudeep Adhikari

I want to get me a disc 

of clouds; that rolls like a serrated

blade cutting through

the airy oceans

getting me to a different universe 

parallel or perpendicular; doesn’t matter

where i am dropping some

sick beats, to the UFOs stopping

for fuel and tacos

on some inter-galactic rest-areas.

then i slide down the

space-time ruptures to hang out

with the methane-breathing homeboys 

from titan, and see if

they have already fucked up big time

and the perpendicular elon musks

are planning to shoot

them up to a different universe.

Sudeep Adhikari is a structural engineer/Lecturer from 

Kathmandu, Nepal.  His recent publications were with Beatnik Cowboys, 

Chiron Review, The Ekphrastic Review, Midnight Lane Boutique, Occulum, 

Silver Birch Press, Eunoia Review, Utt Poetry and Spilling Cocoa over 

Martin Amis. Also a Pushcart Prize nominee for the year 2018, Sudeep 

is currently working on his 4th poetry-book “Hyper-Real Reboots”, 

which is scheduled for publication in September 2018 through Weasel 

Press, Texas, USA. 

Old What’s Her Name. By Scott Thomas Outlar

I was writing a poem

on the front porch

this afternoon

and started clicking

my pen neurotically

for the first time

in decades

like a man

who has been drinking

too much

for long months

with shot nerves

on the brink of oblivion

and I suddenly remembered

a moment

back in elementary school

when a girl

across the desk

paid me five dollars

to stop doing such a thing

because it was

about to drive her

insane

but I refused to cease

my utter annoyance

until a proper transaction

first changed hands

The money was good

at that age

for a kid

but I’m not sure

if it was worth it

in the end

because women and karma

have pretty much

doubled down

on the payback

by now

Scott Thomas Outlar hosts the site17Numa.com where links to all his published work can be found. He spends the hours flowing and fluxing with the ever-changing currents of the Tao River while contemplating the existential nature of life. Well, that coupled with time spent consuming wine and YouTube videos. They all blend together in the modern age.

                           Selah,

                Scott Thomas Outlar

The People You Love. by Scott Esquire Simmons

Family is great and it’s what makes life truly worth living.

Sure my dad left me but hey that’s just his way of teaching me about running.

Oh and mom played games with me in the bathtub like “how long can you hold your breath underwater whenever I’m holding you down?”

All of the late night wrestling visits with my Uncle Terry were great too.
I learned so much about submissions from him.

Why we just went together like peas and carrots in an all organic enema!

However I do have-to wonder one thing......

If my sister is a prostitute is it wrong to ask for a family discount?
Or should I the pay full price?

Scott Esquire Simmons

Is the editor of The Dope Fiend Daily .

His work has appeared in such fine publications as .

The Rye Whiskey Review , I Like Turtles Quarterly, Horror Sleaze Trash , Tinder , High Times Magazine well least that's were he stapled one of his poems between pages,

Scott is currently single and looking to mingle ladies he would love to hear from you all so please feel free to send him a email and send some pics to blueslover98@gmail.com

When not writing Scott enjoys the finer things in life like playing video games and watching internet porn.

He also would love to come give you a personal reading but do note if you live next to a school or Chucky Cheese Scott must regretfully refuse.

Scott is the youngest member of the frat and is currently being hazed by his dickhead big brother and editor JPR.

His next appearance in under the bleachers we will happily give out his home address .

We do this cause we love him .

Well not really its just fun and the staff at UTB like busting his ass .

Chao.

It's Just A Sprain. by John Patrick Robbins

                 

The night was perfect we headed home both in that bliss of the buzz .

Susan was always a party girl and that's what drew her and Frank together .

They flew down the back roads  music blasting .

"Pull in at the park ".

"I swear kid you got the bladder of a hamster "

"I don't have to pee dumbass I want your dick ".

"Sweetheart you know how it works me up when you talk sexy like that ".

"Baby anything works you up".

Frank pulled into Creeds park the same little spot on the back roads  his friend Gary had fell asleep at the wheel and crashed through the sign.

They still hadn't replaced the damn thing .

Frank quickly pulled into the little park and killed the lights .
Hopped in the backseat and got the party started.

Sometimes words were wasted when the actions are what matter the most .

Truly the best perk about Susan being younger than Frank was she was always ready to go.

It was a bliss no words could truly describe and simple backseat fuck all the same .

"I want to ride you"

Susan said and Frank certainly didn't object .

The radio kept on playing honestly Frank couldn't recall the tune if his life depended on it and if someone could then they weren't doing it right .

She rode it like a damn bull in the rodeo and with every grind it was perfection in every sense .

She was getting closer to orgasm when she started speeding up and then it happened .

The pain was instant it was like flying a hundred miles a hour then hitting the fucking pavement .

"Baby are you alright "?

"Fucking hell my I think my dick's broke "!

It felt like the fucker had been ripped off and set on fire all at the same time .

Susan always liked it ruff and treated sex like a damn battle well from the pain Frank was in he was certainly ready to surrender .

"Baby I'm so sorry are you okay".

"Well besides my dick being snapped in two I'm fucking fantastic .

Susan tried not to laugh.

She turned on the dome light .

"Baby it's already bruising "

The pain would not fucking subside and although in agony he had to almost laugh when he thought to himself .

This was going to be awkward going to the emergency room with.

Although if male patients herd this they would probably be more quick to cringe than laugh as he imagined the nurses doing .


"Baby from what I read on google it says it's probably a sprain".

"I'm glad to know you can google broken dicks when in a emergency , maybe if I had just let you google it to begin with i wouldn't be in this shit to begin with".

Susan was damn near in tears from laughter course if Frank didn't feel like his dick had been ripped off by some farm machinery he would probably be laughing to.

Everything hurt as he got in the driver's seat .

Susan couldn't even look at Frank without laughing .

"I'm glad you can laugh about this you twisted little bitch ".

"Aw I'm sorry baby want me to kiss it and make it better ".

Frank had to laugh at that one .

"Yeah I think I better not chance my luck. besides think you done enough damage for one night ".

Frank started the old car and decided to head home .

The pain was a little less what it was a minute ago.

He definitely needed another drink hold the ice he had better use for it tonight .

They were headed home Susan still giggled on a occasion.

Frank had to love her for anyone else tried to cripple his manhood he would have  placed them in a unmarked grave .

She laid against him kissing his neck and he was finally relaxed .

And just then the blue balls kicked in.


                      ...Fin

John Patrick Robbins 

Better known as the Mad Editor 

Currently is under house arrest apparently having mans best friend be your designated

driver is  frowned upon in most States .

When not writing or starting magazines for fun he enjoys drinking till he  blacks out and writing the perverted crap you just read.

He one day will put out a book when he learns that publishers don't except submissions written in crayon .

His  publications include .

The Inmate Of The Month Press, Somebody Farted Magazine , Something In My Pocket Review , Cuddling With Bears Ezine ,The Street Walker Named Desmond Poerty Collection,

The I Can't Believe Your Still Reading This Lit Mag , And Tiger Beat Magazine .

His work is always demented no wonder he is still single .

Stay Crazy Kids 

Kids. by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

He asked me if I had kids

and I told him they frowned upon that

in prison, and for good reason.

Even just pictures on your computer,

I warned him to be careful.

Kids of your own, he said

with much exasperation.

That’s incest,

I said.

I don’t think we should talk

to each other anymore.

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage.  His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly, The Rye Whiskey Review, Outlaw Poetry Network, Horror Sleaze Trash, The Dope Fiend Daily and In Between Hangovers.