Jason A. Adams writes across the spectrum. His stories include science fiction, fantasy, horror, Appalachian folk tales, romance, and genres to be named later.

Jason, a recovering Air Force brat who grew up all over the US and Japan, now perches in the mountains of Southwest Virginia with his excellent author wife Kari Kilgore (www.KariKilgore.com), several spoiled-rotten house critters, and assorted wild visitors from the nearby forest.

You can find more of his work at www.JasonAdamsBooks.com.

Fantastic Nonsense by Jason A. Adams

When times get tough, it's good to get silly.

Can't nobody say this Year of the Current Era 2026 has been an easy one for a whole lot of folks. Frowns all around town, as the saying goes.

Fortunately, there's a cure. Or at least a treatment.

Laughter.

It's a well-known fact that comedy thrives in hard times. As Mr. Lincoln so famously said, "…if I did not laugh, I should die."

The six stories in this collection don't exist in quite a dire a situation as Abe had to deal with, but they make me chuckle. I hope you get your own chuckle, too.

After all, a good chuckle is a gift from the heavens.

CURATOR'S NOTE

I love Jason A. Adams' tagline for this collection: "When times get tough, it's good to get silly." Exactly. And no one does silly better than Jason. His strong voice and skewed perspective take us from the mundane to the strange in just a few words…which we need right now. – Kristine Kathryn Rusch

 
 

BOOK PREVIEW

Another quiet shift in dream land.

Actually, Dreamatorium #463-NM, responsible for bad dreams in the Midwest Sleep Zone, USA.

And quiet wasn't really the right word. Not in a working Dreamatorium.

Mudgeon, Dream Master of the NM unit, ducked as an overhead conveyor belt switched to a new track. Several six-inch-thick leather-bound tomes rolled toward the university wing. Judging from all the Greek gods, multi-armed goddesses, and assorted iconography whizzing by, Comparative Religion finals must be coming up. College kids were some of the Dreamatorium's most frequent targets.

Heck, he'd better get down to the depot soon and make sure the Organic Chemistry textbooks were still taped shut. Nothing worse than when they got too eager and opened up early. The stink of hydrocarbons coated his tonsils and made him gag worse than a full nocturnal news segment.

Usually, odors from dreams didn't get that bad. Not unless an FL screwed things up. But he didn't like thinking about those.