DEAD SHORT

  by

  Pandora Pine

  Dead Short

  Copyright © Pandora Pine 2025

  All Rights Reserved

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First Digital Edition: March 2025

  A Note From Pandora

  Dear Tennyson and Ronan

  Everly and the GOAT

  The Case of the Dozing Detective

  Wolf Versus Back to School Shopping

  It’s the Great Pumpkin, Everly O’Mara

  Aurora Gives Thanks

  Bite Me, Jude

  Chicken Soup For The Sole

  Goodbye Cruel World

  A Note From Pandora

  Dear Faithful Readers,

  This book is a compilation of short stories I’ve written over the last few years, but didn’t know what to do with. I decided to put these fun short stories together in one book. All of your favorite characters make appearances in these stories. You’ll find Dear Abby-style advice columns with Ronan giving kick-ass advice, and Tennyson trying rein him in. There are a few shorts where the kids are the stars. It was a lot of fun writing from their points of view.

  I’m so excited to bring these little shorts to you.

  I hope you enjoy them!

  Hugs,

  Pandora

  This book is dedicated to my father, whom I recently lost. I wouldn’t be the writer I am today without you. Thanks, Daddy. I will always love you.

  Dear Tennyson and Ronan

  Dear Tennyson and Ronan,

  I’m a bookworm. A physical bookworm. There’s nothing I love more than bookstores, the smell of books, and buying books. I will never own a Kindle. Get the picture?

  My personal library is legend, filled with well-read teenage favorites up through the most recent releases from my favorite authors. All of my friends and neighbors are aware of my collection. One particular friend, I’ll call him Damien, recently borrowed a precious book and treated my darling horribly. The book was loaned in pristine condition, but came back with dog-eared pages (!!!), nacho cheese stains on the first page of the book’s climax, and a tear to the back of the dust jacket.

  Damien just asked to borrow another book. What do I do?

  Signed,

  Dog-eared in Dayton

  Dear Dog-eared,

  My advice is to punch Damien. It’s obvious the man can’t be trusted. He’s not a friend. In my humble opinion, he’s a barbarian. Not to mention a menace to the entire neighborhood. No jury in the world would convict you, in fact you’d probably get a key to the city for your public service.

  Bail money available upon request.

  Ronan

  “Ronan, we don’t punch our friends.” Tennyson patted Ronan’s hand.

  “He’s not a friend. Would you let this man near your books?” Ronan sounded as if he was about to go off on a rant.

  “No, I wouldn’t let this man near our garbage, but that doesn’t mean he’s a menace to society. Don’t you think the death penalty is a little harsh for crimes against books?” Ten knew he needed to nip this in the bud before Ronan’s passion turned into an Oscar-worthy performance.

  “I don’t know, you tell me. Weren’t you the one who wanted to ground Everly until her thirtieth birthday for ripping a page in your Rock Hudson biography?” Ronan smirked, looking as if he knew he’d won the argument.

  “That’s different,” Ten said sheepishly. “I was at a critical spot in the story.” Maybe Ronan had a small point, but Ten wasn’t about to tell him.

  “And you left the book where Everly sits to watch her ten minutes of television before bed. It wasn’t her fault she moved the book and the page tore.” Ronan waggled his eyebrows.

  “Just whose side are you on?” Ten felt his own temper start to churn in his gut.

  “I’m on the side of literature!” Ronan sat up straighter and set a fluttering hand over his heart.

  Here comes the drama… Ten snorted, but managed to keep from rolling his eyes. “You know I apologized to Everly for making such a big deal over my ripped page.” Ronan had worked with her to tape the rip and Ronan left a message in the margin apologizing on behalf of their little girl.

  Ronan brushed a kiss against Ten’s cheek. “Back to the problem at hand. What’s your advice to Dog-eared in Dayton?”

  That was a good question. What was his advice?

  Dear Dog Eared,

  As important as books are to you, friends are worth more than a book made of pure gold. If you’re unsure about lending this friend a book from your collection, get him a gift card to a local book store and go with him. Show him your favorite titles and tell him why they’re so important to you. Then he can spend his own money on whichever book he chooses. If it ends up ripped, dog-eared, or with a cracked spine, it’s in God’s hands.

  Please don’t take Ronan up on his offer of bail money.

  Tennyson

  Dear Ronan and Ten

  I have a problem. Not the biggest problem, but a problem, nonetheless.

  When I buy a book from my favorite author, I hoard it until another one comes out or ‘til the end of time, whichever comes first. Is this normal? Is there a deeper rooted issue here? Help!

  Signed,

  Booked in Baltimore

  Dear Booked,

  Grab life by the horns and read the next book! I’m guessing you’re the type to save dessert for after dinner. Screw that! Live a little! Eat ice cream for breakfast. Stay up reading until the sun comes up. Call in sick and hit the casino. The world is your oyster. Open it up and dive right in!

  References available upon request if your boss fires your ass!

  Ronan

  Tennyson felt a headache coming on. “You can’t tell people to skip out on work to go gambling.”

  “Why the hell not? Thirteen has always been my lucky number. Maybe it will work for someone else.” Grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl, Ronan took a bite.

  “If it were Everly asking for advice, would you really tell her to eat ice cream for breakfast and to skip kindergarten to play blackjack?”

  Ronan snorted. “Do you want my real answer or the one I’d give you to avoid sleeping on the couch tonight?”

  Ten rolled his eyes. “You’re a five-year-old in sensible shoes. You know that, right?”

  “That’s why you love me!” Ronan smacked a sticky kiss to the side of Ten’s cheek. “Face it, how boring would it be if you married someone like yourself?”

  “You mean someone responsible? Hard working? Common sensical? Someone who wouldn’t let a kindergartener and a toddler have a spoonful of hot fudge before bed?” The kids hadn’t wanted to go to bed after that little stunt. Ezra was so angry at not getting seconds, that he threw one of his wooden blocks at Ronan’s head, imprinting the letter A in his forehead. It looked just like the scarlet letter, only in this case, A stood for asshole.

  “You’re all of those things, Ten, but sometimes you walk around with a stick up your ass, so worried something will go wrong and it’s my job to pull it out. To make you laugh and do stupid things like playing naked charades with the blinds open.”

  Ten felt himself blush. Half the neighborhood had seen that little performance, and Jude sent the pictures to those who didn’t. “You may have a small point.”

  “And a big dick!” Ronan crowed. “If you don’t like my advice, what would you tell Booked in Baltimore?”

  Ten thought it over for a few minutes. He was very similar to Booked and thought he had a better spin on the advice Ronan had offered up.

  Dear Booked,

  No, there’s not a deep seated issue at play here. You love what you love and if keeping a little something in reserve for a rainy day makes you feel good, do it! This world is full of people who need instant gratification and in this day and age, it is so easy to find. The fact that you have the self-control to hold back reading the new book is amazing.

  I agree with Ronan that life is your oyster, but it’s up to you to decide when and how to open it. Just because you can eat an entire sleeve of Oreos at 2 am, doesn’t mean you should! Trust me on that one.

  Please don’t take Ronan up on his offer of references, they’re likely to be for an all you can eat chicken nugget buffet.

  Tennyson

  Dear Ten and Ronan,

  I’ve been married to my amazing wife for nearly a decade. I love her with my whole heart even though she doesn’t do a lot of housework. Actually, she doesn’t do any. I was thinking of getting her a brand-new vacuum cleaner and pretty dust cloths for our anniversary in a few weeks. What else can I get her that will hammer my point home?

  Signed,

  Dirty in DC

  Dear Dirty,

  You know what else you could get to go along with your present? A divorce lawyer. For yourself. Do I have everyone’s attention now? DO NOT buy your significant other an appliance for your anniversary, unless it has batteries and vibrates. No, cordless vacuums do not count. Think toys for an adult toy box. Although personally, I prefer the low tech gadgets, gags, furry handcuffs, riding crops. You know, kinky shit!

  Do not buy your partner an appliance even if they ask for it. I don’t care if the coffee maker is broken, the microwave conjures spirits from the great beyond, or if you’re washing your clothes in dirty puddles. Do not under any circumstance buy a vacuum cleaner.

  Any questions?

  Sex toy recommendations available upon request.

  Stay dirty!

  Ronan

  “For the love of God, Ronan, you can’t tell this person to get a divorce lawyer and to give sex toys as an anniversary gift.” Ten sighed heavily. He should never have told his opinionated husband about the advice column in the first place. “You should have just left this letter to me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Nostradamus!” Ronan wore a cat who ate the canary grin. “As the president of Dumbasses Unlimited, I’m the perfect person to advise this guy. Remember the year I got you a cappuccino machine? I slept on the sofa for three nights after that little disaster. How the hell was I supposed to know you didn’t drink cappuccino?”

  “We’d lived together for three years, Ronan. Had you ever seen me drink any form of coffee in those years?”

  “That’s not the point. It was on sale, er…”

  “What was that, dumbass? I thought you were clueless about what I like to drink, but now to find out the stupid thing was on sale?” Ten shook his head. “Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t spend the next few nights sleeping on the sofa?”

  Ronan fluttered his eyelashes. “Because I never bought you a vacuum?”

  Ten sighed. Ronan had a point. He might be clueless, but he wasn’t stupid, and his advice wasn’t half bad. It just needed a little tweaking.

  Dear Dirty,

  Do yourself a favor and surprise your wife with a weekly visit from a house cleaning service. Paying for an entire year or six months upfront is hassle-free. Take her to dinner at her favorite restaurant that does not include a drive thru window and present her with her real gift. Something that comes in a velvet box. A diamond anniversary band, charm bracelet, earrings she’s had her eyes on. Something that shows her you pay attention to her wants and needs.

  Trust me when I tell you a house cleaner is a gift that keeps on giving. Ronan and I have someone who comes in once a week and dusts, cleans the bathrooms, and makes our kitchen sparkle, which leaves us free and full of energy to let our freak flags fly after the kids are in bed.

  I can’t believe I’m agreeing with Ronan, but don’t buy an appliance, unless of course it comes with a ski lodge in Vale or a penthouse suite in the Caribbean.

  Happy anniversary!

  Tennyson

  Dear Tennyson and Ronan,

  While I am reading male/male romance books, my darling cat of 14 years, Mittens, likes to reach up and poke me in my right side and then walk away. She will do this 3-5 times and only while I am reading. What can I do to stop this maddening behavior?

  Signed,

  Poked in Canada

  Dear Poked,

  The way I see things, you’ve got two options, poke the cat back or take it to a shelter. Poking the cat will show the animal that what he’s doing isn’t acceptable behavior. It might take a few days, but the cat will soon realize poking you makes him a bad kitty. If that doesn’t work, read on…

  Option number two is to drop the cat off at the shelter for an afternoon. That way, he can see what’s in his future if he keeps acting like a little asshole. You can pick him up at the end of the day, if he hasn’t been adopted, and judging by the way you described him, the chances of that are slim to none. If he has, by some miracle been taken in by an unsuspecting family, then it’s good riddance to bad rubbish.

  Get a dog while you’re at the shelter. They’re much better companions and do not poke their owners.

  Shelter references available upon request.

  Keep Poking!

  Ronan

  “For the love of Jesus, Ronan,” Ten sighed. He definitely didn’t have enough spoons left to deal with his ridiculous husband and his insane advice. “You can’t tell a pet owner to bring their cat to a shelter as punishment!”

  “Why the hell not? We make Everly serve her time out sentences on the bottom step. What’s so different about sending this asshole cat to the shelter for a day?”

  Ten’s head was going to explode. “Everly understands that she did something wrong and that she needs time to think about her actions. Cats don’t have that ability. How would you like it if I dropped you off at a shelter?”

  “No thank you!” Ronan gave his head a vehement shake. “The last thing I need is to get neutered! No sireee, Bob!”

  “I’d pick you up at the end of the day, unless you’ve already been adopted by another family. I can just imagine the sign outside your cage. No manners. Food motivated. I bite.” Ten snorted. “We could sew your balls back on after you learned your lesson, right?” Ten snorted.

  “No, babe! That isn’t right. The punishment absolutely does not fit the crime.”

  “Neither does the idea of sending the cat to a shelter, like it’s some sort of day spa for bad kitties. Obviously the poor little animal is feeling neglected and wants some attention. Since cats can’t speak, Mittens is asking for love the only way he knows how.”

  “You know what I do when I want attention?” Ronan asked.

  “Yeah, you act like a preschooler hopped up on sugar.” Ten rolled his eyes. “I’ve been trying to start dinner for twenty minutes and so far all I’ve been able to do is get out the casserole dish. Go amuse yourself or we’ll be calling out to Greek Life again.” Ten wished the restaurant had a loyalty program. They could use a free pizza or two.

  “You just love to bring me down, don’t you?” Ronan crossed his arms over his chest. “What would you tell this hell cat owner to do?”

  “It’s simple.” Ten waggled his eyebrows.

  Dear Poked,

  It’s my guess that your cat is jealous of your books. Why not try reading to Mittens so he can get in on all the gay romance goodness you’re enjoying? If he’s not interested in the book, maybe set it down and play with him? Give him a treat or some belly scratches and let him know he’s the goodest boy.

  Please ignore Ronan’s horrible advice. Rest assured he’ll be sleeping in the backyard tonight along with our neighborhood squirrels who are crazy about his nuts.

  Here, kitty, kitty!

  Tennyson

  Dear Tennyson and Ronan,

  I’ve been married to my husband, “Chuck” for the last five years. Chuck is an attentive and loving partner. He remembers my birthday and our anniversary. He takes out the trash without me having to ask him and does the dishes after dinner. He really is a wonderful man, but for one small, but incredibly annoying habit. Chuck snores. Like a lumberjack. Every night, all night long. I’m not sure how much longer I can live like this before I have to ask my husband for a sleep divorce and pack him off to the foldaway bed in the guest room. Any advice would be greatly appreciated.

  Signed,

  Desperate in Daytona

  Dear Desperate,

  The answer to your problem is simple. In fact, I can solve it with one word: pillows. Large pillows, small pillows, decorative pillows. Find the one that works for you and press it over his face until he stops snoring. Make sure to remove the pillow when Chuck-Chuck-Bo-Buck starts to squirm.

  Pillow brand preferences available upon request.

  Sweet dreams!

  Ronan

  “Ronan,” Ten said, elongating his husband’s name. “You can’t tell this woman to smother her husband with a pillow because he snores. You’re an officer of the law.”

  “Who sleeps next to a husband who snores like a pack of hibernating bears.” Ronan offered Tennyson a winning smile.

  “Wait! What? I don’t snore.” Tennyson had never snored a night in his life. Okay, well maybe when he had a cold, but that was different.

  “Babe, I hate to break it to you, but you do.” Reaching into his back pocket, Ronan pulled out his phone.

  After a few taps, Ten’s sleeping face appeared on the screen. When Ronan pressed play, he heard something that sounded like a rusty chainsaw. Ten felt the blood drain from his face. “That’s not me,” he said. “This must be a deepfake or AI or something. There’s no way those sounds came out of my body.”

 

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