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Real CountryOf course, it had to be Thursday. Friday night was date night for most Greeks, and Saturdays were for getting hammered in the basement before bars off Pong, or Flip Cup, or Flipadelphia, or Dice, or Ebola, or Rollers, or Battleship, or You Got Served, or Quarters, or Speed Quarters, or Civil War, or Baseball, or Kings. So weeknights were the best time for mixers to get numbers up. Tuesday was always a bars night because of all the specials, and Monday and Wednesday were for homework. So naturally it had to be Thursday for the Delt house and Mu, its sister house, to host the annual Cowboy Up mixer.
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Shrapnel StreetsBy Rebecca Charlotte QuailBellMagazine.com This is no Louisiana Fairy Tale
there are no more magical leftovers shrapnel from a bygone age where flapper feathers were more than just an accrual of dust and streets were made of golden dreams. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
My Confidant Words by Fernanda Guevara Image by Claudio Parentela QuailBellMagazine.com *Editor's Note: This was previously published on MyTrendingStories.com It came like a breeze that never left,
or maybe it was passed down as a part of a never written will, this intimate pal of mine The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Naming of HurricanesBy Ren Martinez @renthemusical QuailBellMagazine.com *Editor's Note: Originally published at Margins Magazine. It was a Wednesday night when clouds began to gather, thin and brittle as cheap glass. The town was used to strangers rolling through, dust weeds pushed along by the wind. The Roadhouse sheltered many, offering them whiskey and chili fries and a roof over their heads, but just for one night. It hadn’t even begun to rain when the woman walked in.
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The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Advice From A Senior ExecutiveAfter Parveen Shakir
The Senior Executive where I work Called me rather unusually to his office one day Frowning uneasily he asked after a couple of files - And my non-civil pastimes Then shed light upon the standing of a poet in society The gist of what he said Was that a poet has the same role in a nation As an appendix in our bodies The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
They Tried to Bury Me, StillCarried like a dandelion across an ocean of death,
Black was the seed sown Whose roots swell with tears For having been rung by all means of reaper. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Ivy FenceBelow an aluminum sky
emerald gardens ascend pines, shrubs, peonies, brass orators ignite. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Questions of WhyBy Scott Bassis QuailBellMagazine.com Irina was thinking about Jason only moments before she learned of his death. Of course, she thought about him every day, so it wasn’t such a coincidence. Spookier was the morning after her first night in Henri’s apartment. Henri flipped the channel to an old rerun of Buds. Seymour Splinsky was devastated by his girlfriend’s infidelity.
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