Prose

“Rainbow Cookie Down,” by Maryann Aita

Jul 11th, 2018 | By

20:47: I arrive home from a friend’s family party with an army of dessert. Despite my declarations that “fifteen cookies is really too much,” I was assigned a slice of peanut butter cake intended to feed three grown men, two rainbow cookies, two cheesecake brownie squares, and a chocolate chip cupcake with cream cheese frosting. In the confusion, I also volunteered to bring home a loaf of French bread.



“What We Learned From Honesty Day,” by Todd Mercer

Jul 4th, 2018 | By

The First Annual Honesty Day was a complete bust. Yes, even I acknowledge that. We all lived through the turmoil, so we all know of what I speak. No one foresaw the tsunami of crushed dreams and ruined marriages and prosecutions.



“Society’s Really Gone Downhill since the Apocalypse Happened,” by Daniel Galef

Jun 27th, 2018 | By

I won’t hold no truck with any of this rude bunch, these kids today. No, I may not keep up with technology or current events or the supreme edicts of the inhuman god-emperors, but I stand by the idea that people of my generation were just plain more courteous, and had a modicum of common sense, to boot, which you won’t find one whit of in today’s crowd, I’ll have you know.



“Full Disclosure: I Am a Russian Cyberbot Lurking on Your Social Media,” by Mike Fowler

Jun 20th, 2018 | By

Privyet! Thank you for joining me on Facebook or YouTube. Now let me ask you: have you checked your bank account balance lately, Johnny or Joanna? Your nest egg is at the mercy of a government that may plunge the economy into a depression any day. If I were you, instead of a cyberbot activated by the Kremlin, I’d travel to Washington and storm the offices of the Federal Reserve, causing as much healthy mayhem as possible. Like the ritual of self-outing that you innocent and fun-loving westerners call full disclosure, it’s the American way.



“Remember me? I’m that BioLet Composting Toilet you got as a Wedding Gift for Your First Marriage,” by Stacy Stevenson

Jun 13th, 2018 | By

It’s not every day a highly specialized composting toilet is purchased as a wedding gift. I mean, nothing says “this marriage is forever!” quite like a composting toilet. But alas, much like seeing undigested corn in my fecal containment area, I was confused by a lot of things in your marriage.



“Substitute Teacher Caught Up in Wind Bathing Incident,” by Joseph Szalinski

Jun 6th, 2018 | By

Celebrated Bayville Middle School substitute teacher, Charlie Craver, is at the center of some controversy recently, after accidentally exposing himself to a student as she was cutting across his property on her way home from the bus stop.



“Dialogue Between Friday Me and Monday Me,” by Mason Binkley

May 30th, 2018 | By

FRIDAY ME: Walking into the office just now, I felt this unexpected rush of gratitude and optimism. I can’t pinpoint why, exactly. Maybe it was the flowers in the courtyard or the friendly faces of our co-workers. Whatever the case, I’m so happy to be alive and to have this job, and I can truly say to you, “Good morning, brother.”



“Recent Graduate Doubts Existence of People Who Have Their Shit Together,” by David Blissenbach

May 23rd, 2018 | By

In many ways, Andy Nosticia is your average college graduate. He has a menial office job, still hasn’t figured out why his company faxes anything, is severely disillusioned, drinks his wine from a coffee mug because all his other dishes are dirty, and of course, he doesn’t have his shit together.



“Spiritual B.O.,” by Claudia Fucigna

May 16th, 2018 | By

You might think patchouli, but that’s not what I mean. I mean spicy shoes left to fumigate by the door. Acrid plastic yoga mats made in China that will take Vedic ages of rebirth to break down in a landfill. Gluten-free soy candles blessed by Peruvian shamans that cost an arm and a leg. Burned sage sitting on top of a seven-layer dip of cologne created by human bodies in motion.



“You are the Product,” by Nathan Leslie

May 9th, 2018 | By

Why are you here? Strike that—you don’t have to answer that. It’s what’s called a rhetorical question, obvi. Also obvi: you came here for wisdom, for guidance, for that one little nugget of an insight which you can squirrel away and unleash upon the world in a big way. You came here with a plan, a tablet, a book rearing to go. Maybe it’s werewolves in space. Maybe it’s vampires meets Das Boot—Dracula in a Submarine. Maybe it’s Bambi-grows-up-and-commits-Bambi-patricide. Turns cannibal.