TQR Confidential

Monday, February 27, 2012

Bonjour, Steve McKean/max keanu:

You may have something of interest within this cap, monsieur. In fact, I think you do. BUT, at the moment, Fidelity Forever, is not ready for the beasts in the Terminal.

Trust me on this as I mean you no harm. Fidelity Forever has made the leap, but does not graze the monkey. Not yet.

There are points lost, too, unnecessarily, just so you know. We may operate from a filthy dungeon here on The Floor at TQR but be assured that we have spell check and, sir, we know you do as well. On next submission, please take care. No need to detract from the plot of the cap with spelling errors.

Fare better. Work on it.

And thanks for your continued interest in our raggedy ragbag,

A bientot!

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

RW Dunn's LOS ANGELES, OR AMERICAN PHARAOHS has been terminaled

Dear RW Dunn,

Thank you for your...um, contribution...to the piles of caps that land here on The Floor of our illustrious e-zine, TQR.

You, sir or madam, are a spiller of the word ad infinitum. It's possible, je pense, that you and your protagonist are completely mad.

Let us share with the Terminali then, shall we? I'm sending you up, you on the broken wing of your black crow of a Los Angeles, or American Pharaohs...be prepared...to those meat eaters upstairs. Fare well, I hope.

All the best,

[Gabrielle DePlancher]
~ The Floor, TQR

Mike Phillips' BLOOD OF THE SACRIFICE: Terminaled

[doomey stands in front of his cherrywood, fist-knuckles on hips, chin raised and slightly tilted, and he's glaring at the ruined section of tube where rorschalk's mug had hung just prior]

deal with it, ted. jeez.

[he relaxes, turns, and he pulls from inside his suit coat the current cap. he focuses on the last few lines, and then he taps the cap straight and neat on his grotesque, fume-wafting, ear-bulbed desktop]

quick and cool, this be, like the sproutings of a soon-to-be blooming orchid, me thinks. mike phillips has crafted...

[he leans and cranes his neck and looks into the television camera that only he can see. he smiles]

...in my opinion...

[he stands up straight, arches his back in a stretch. and then he paces in front of his glowing, hillock-fungied desk]

...a nice little ditty here. the technique works, the crafting is tight, and there's a little snicker behind the narrative, or at least i heard a snicker. nothing wrong with this, and i like the characters. i do not have high hopes for the phillips cap, i am thinking the Terminali might dismiss it, might even snicker themselves, but i like it.

[doomey stalks over the blasted tube. no need to say the magic word. doomey simply lifts the cap up to the ragged hole bulleted into the upper-stretch of tube, and the pages are sucked from his grip and launched upward]

i hereby decree mike phillips' blood of the sacrifice Terminaled.

[doomey moves back toward his desk. his shoulders are slumped, his head hung low, his feet dragging. he's looking spent. he holds one hand against his stomach, and with the other hand he loosens his already loose tie]

christ jesus. something's wrong with me.

[one foot slides in the muck covering the glass tiles and the delicate balance he'd been maintaining slides with it, and the other foot slips the opposite direction and his hands fly up and he...tell the truth, i've had quite enough of this. let our hero roll around in his own vomit as long as he wants. i refuse to watch and report]

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Acceptance of the Week: Aims and Objectives of the American Cribbage Congress by Chris Miller

Hello Chris,

Checked out the capital you sent. Dug it. Made me laugh. I don't get many laughs down on the Floor these days. Anywhat, just wanted to let you know that I have tossed (in a manner of speaking) your capital up to the Terminal. We'll see what they have to say about it in the coming weeks. I gotta go pull a cat out of a suck tube, otherwise I'd type more. Congrats on making it past the first hurtle. Good luck.

Keep it unreal,

Boligard Doomey
the Floor

Friday, February 03, 2012

Acceptance Letter of the Week: Boligard to Mr. Rusty Barnes

Dearest Rusty,

Looked over the chapters you sent. Too bad we don't publish novels, or else you'd be looking down the long barrel of the editing staff of TQR Publishing, who actually penalize each edit with a stab in the author's left buttock with a cattle prod. Not saying, of course, that there'd be many edits to make, but, well, just saying, a lot of folks end up walking with a limp after they publish a novel with us, so....Phew, eh?

Anywhat, you old coot, I'm going to push this on up to the Terminal. Lord knows what they'll do with it. Usually we deal with short stories, or Capital, as Rorschalk likes to call it. But he's bat-shit crazy, so... Three of a Kind is a different kind of animal, it's a good kind of different kind of animal, mister, one we don't normally like to gut and serve for dinner 'round these parts, but I like it so much I'm just going to pretend I didn't know it wasn't a short story.

Shhh, don't tell anyone.

BTW, they (the Terminali) hate what I send up, so don't think your submission is blessed or anything by passing through my shaking hands, no siree. And if you're wondering why this acceptance letter is so strange, it's because Theodore Rorschalk now makes me send him a copy of every email I send to submissionees, whether it be praise or lambast, and so, well, you know, you get what you get, eh?

I'll be tubing this up to the Terminal asafp. Watch to see what they have to say about it come Feb. 15th or so. No promises, big boy, and congrats on making it past the first hurtle. May your strides by long and your bowel movements regular.

Keep it unreal,