Fiction

“The Goddess’s Resignation,” by Laurie Brown-Pressly

Aug 20th, 2018 | By

I read through the company-wide email and my hands tremble. Although I recognize the entire middle section as my work, I read it through four more times to be sure. My work has Reginald Douchebag O’Donald’s name on the by-line. Then, I remembered. Our Thursday evening meeting ran long. I’d grown weary of Reginald’s leering and his double entendres, and I was ready to go home. While our team was waiting for our boss to approve a draft, Reginald asked to borrow my laptop for a last minute change to his fantasy football roster; his computer wasn’t connecting to the internet. Sure, I said, and slid the machine across the table hoping this would keep him distracted until the boss returned. How could I have been so naïve? Now he has used my work to get the promotion.



“Inside the Box,” by Hayleigh Santra

Aug 20th, 2018 | By

Man walks by carrying a box wrapped in tin foil. It’s impossible to see what’s inside.

S: What if he’s carrying a human head in there?

H: It’s a bunch of butterflies.

S: It’s a gecko.



“A Short Temper For Tall Tales,” by Michael Augustine Dondero

Aug 20th, 2018 | By

Lunar Base Commander Raines reporting to Houston. I’m not sure what you witnessed on your end, but we’ve got a bit of an issue up here.

I know this is going to sound fantastical but here goes:

I’m fairly certain that Command Module Pilot Aikman is a werewolf.



“Frequently Asked Questions About Your Robot,” by Michael Augustine Dondero

Apr 20th, 2018 | By

Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of the most advanced model in Artificial Intelligence Personal Assistance by Montague Tech Corp: The Magnus® 13. Like you, each Magnus® 13 (M13) is unique. In no time at all, it will evolve to understand and cater to your specific needs.

So, sit back and let your M13 do all the work.



“Love in the Time of GMOs,” by Shelli Cornelison

Apr 20th, 2018 | By

Conventional wisdom would dictate that potato chips were unlikely to lead a woman to her soulmate. But Sarah didn’t subscribe to conventional wisdom, nor did she eat conventional chips. Much like beer snobs only drank craft brews, she only ate artisanal chips. They were a thing. It was 2018, America was going to hell in handbasket, and people were finding solace in all sorts of small batch comforts.



“Discussion and Debate in Hurricane Heaven,” by Warren J. Cox

Apr 20th, 2018 | By

If you were a hurricane hanging out with other hurricanes in hurricane heaven, you might get caught up in some interesting conversation. Hurricane So-And-So might say: “I made eight, EIGHT, different landfalls. I was fierce, boy. I was a baaaaaad storm.”



“Political Jesus,” by Neil Oatsvall

Apr 20th, 2018 | By

Republican Jesus rode into town on a beautiful Sunday on his brand-new luxury Mule-cedes. He had worked hard and deserved what got. Not everyone possessed his skills, like the totally earned water-walking ability. It was good to reap the benefits of his life.



“I am Pretty Sure I am Invisible,” by Edward Turner III

Apr 20th, 2018 | By

I am pretty sure that I am invisible. As far back as I can remember this has been a goal of mine. Just think of the freedom, if you could be invisible for just one day just think of the wonder and freedom and all the things you could do.



“The Labour of Love,” by Sean Fallon

Apr 20th, 2018 | By

The novelist sighed. Romance is the hardest genre, she thought as she stared at the white screen in front of her. It made her furious when people and so-called critics told her that romance was a genre reliant upon tired tropes and clichés. They were wrong. It was an art-form, a science. Scaring people? Easy! Making them laugh? Child’s play. Making them swoon with love and have horny dreams about being stolen away by pirates or marrying a billionaire? The most challenging task of all.



“Don’t Embezzle, Kids,” by Natalie Ho

Apr 20th, 2018 | By

“I wanna be a billionaire, so freaking bad…” Yaritza hummed the catchy tune to herself while scrolling through the WikiHow page “How to Embezzle Money” on her middle-class 11.6″ MacBook Air while sitting in her middle-class 448 square-feet studio in the Upper West Side of Manhattan, across the Central Park and a few subway stops to the Wall Street in the Financial District. She hated the small laptop, her tiny apartment, and her middle-class life. She had always wanted to be rich. All things considered, she just knew in her heart that embezzling money was the only sure way for her to afford a lavish life. A sumptuous surrealism kind of life.