Fake Nonfiction

“Now Hiring,” by Sara Garland

Nov 25th, 2020 | By

Ping Pong Net Re-Stringer: Temp-to-Hire Contract Position—Seeking a self-starter with strong attention to detail and at least 5 years of experience in the ping pong, fishing, and/or shoestring industries to re-string ping pong nets in local tech company breakroom.

“Wholesale Hotdogs,” by J.D. Hager

Nov 18th, 2020 | By

It was the biggest pack of hotdogs he’d ever seen. Unbelievable is what he thought at first. Denial of his sensory input. Following disbelief was disgust, followed again by denial. It couldn’t be, like a conundrum wrapped paradoxically in plastic.

“Personalized Ads, Just for You,” by Ruyi Wen

Nov 11th, 2020 | By

Hi, potential customer! Based on your previous purchase of our LightTouch voice-activated lighting control panel, we thought you might be interested in our new smart home security system, the PrivaSee Cam 3.0. You’ll sleep soundly at night knowing that at the first sign of a package thief, teenaged child sneaking in after curfew, or moth flying too close to the camera, the PrivaSee Cam 3.0 will blast a 110-decibel warning siren to scare off the intruder. Just look at this photo of a model smiling and looking well-rested in the general vicinity of our product. It’s merely a happy coincidence that the model looks like you, but more attractive.

“Terri Garr,” by Richard Sensenbrenner

Nov 4th, 2020 | By

It was in the theater–YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN–I first fell in love.  My cousin and I sat in the very first row at the Coral Theater, way up close, and I watched Terri Garr’s six feet of cleavage in wonder and awe.  I felt I could let go of my seat, free fall into that heavenly, inviting crevasse.  Sticky popcorn butter and Ju-Ju-Bees held my feet down.  Arms wide and leaning like a ski jumper, post-Halloween candies whizzed past, ahead of a wave of laughter.  My cousin, two whole years my senior, caught me just as I was becoming airborne and hit me until my knees buckled, proclaiming my dorkhood in angry hisses.

“Dead Cat in Brooklyn,” by Adam Wojack

Oct 28th, 2020 | By

I mean, wuddaya suppose to do wid a dead cat inna city? Not like you can dig a hole in yuh backyard and berry it. I got a small apahtment, on Wess Fourf street in Brooklyn, near duh bus that takes you tuh Canahsie. I don’t go tuh Canahsie. Dat place has changed, and not for da better. I stay right heah in Gravesend where I belawng. Good place wid good people. I can get my kwaffee and my newspapuh right on duh corner for tree dollars still, like innee old days. You can’t say that for a lotta places these days. Times has changed, for sure.