Short Fiction
Nick Mamatas

A Night Out at a Nice Place

There was a peculiar kind of sadism, or was it masochism, involved in downlowing into a limbsuit and going out among the slowfolk.

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Short Fiction
Nick Mamatas

The Dude Who Collected Lovecraft

The hand-drawn map Fremgen had mailed me was crude, and obviously not to scale, so it was a little like following a treasure map made by a pirate with a spatial perception disorder.

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Short Fiction
Nick Mamatas

On the Occasion of My Retirement

People like a professor with a television. It humanizes us. More than once, a girlfriend let me know that she, like the professors she admired, never ever watched television, only to sit down in front of it and fall into a teletrance.

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Short Fiction
Nick Mamatas

The Phylactery

Tony had no idea how to explain it, so decided that he wouldn’t even try. Instead, he squeezed his palm around the filakto and loitered in the doorway to the bedroom as Cheryl changed the baby.

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Short Fiction
Nick Mamatas

FOUR IS ME! WITH SQUEEEEEE! (AND LOLER)

She wasn’t my grandma, but grandpa junior’s eighteenth or nineteenth wife, and I couldn’t help her. “Your computer belongs to the Internet now, Grandma,” I said, as I removed my hands from the seething slit of rotting sweetmeats and quivering nerves she kept on what used to be a nice oak side table.

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