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Defenestration: August 2020

Hello again, friends and readers and people who stumbled here accidentally, to the August 2020 issue of Defenestration! We were all expecting our lives to be back to normal by now, but here we are, thoroughly abnormal. Normal isn’t a thing anymore. Normal is a historical blip, a tone box in a textbook from 2031,

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Defenestration: April 2020

Remember last year, specifically December 2019, when we were looking forward to 2020 and all the magic associated with a new decade? And then remember when 2020 showed up and Australia immediately burst into flames, and we thought nothing could possibly get worse than this? Boy, was that ever a mistake. I think we tend

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Defenestration: December 2019

Another year is drawing to a close, and that means we’ve got another fresh issue of Defenestration to share with you (and possibly your family, but not small children, thank you). But we’ve also reached the end of a decade, which is unbeleivable to me, because (1) I have no concept of time and (2) I don’t age. I’m almost exactly like Santa Claus, except don’t have a beard or a belly or a red suit, and I’ve never met an elf except for that one time at the Lord of the Rings convention.

Nonfiction

“In Your Face,” by Bob Lorentson

I can barely stand to say this, much less write about it, but I think it’s fair to warn you that our faces are infested with mites. There, I said it. I stumbled across this unnerving information in the reputable magazine where I read it, and thought it my duty to pass it along.

Fake Nonfiction

“Flannery O’Connor, Instagram Influencer,” by Laura K. LaGrone

therealflannyo25 The baby looked thataway at birth, weren’t nothin’ nobody coulda ferseen or helped. All the same, he had a sweet smell to him on account of the Johnson’s ™ talcum powder. #evenuglybabiesneedlove therealflannyo25 The Curel™ lanolin might’ve helped, if the gangrene hadn’t settled itself in like a cat on a window seat. #warinjuries therealflannyo25

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Fiction

“An Unopened Letter to Shirley,” by Raymond Lane

I hope that this letter finds you well. My apologies for using such an archaic form of communication, but as you know Earth has yet to join the intergalactic web.

Poetry

“Pająk,” by Anna Pisarka

A lazy glance up from the keyboard and I meet the eight eyes of doom.
Fuck.
My thoughts slip out from underneath me,
Two legs worthless against the icy battlefield of nature.

Visuals

A Comic by Mira Scharf

For your Sunday enjoyment: a comic!

Ben & Winslow

Adventures in Archeology

Things are so weird right now that when I have time to draw, I end up drawing the most random thing that pops into my head. I apologize for nothing.