Prose

“Catholic School Days: Heads up and on a Swivel,” John S. Walters

Jan 23rd, 2019 | By

I was born attached to the Catholic Church, with no avenue of escape and little chance of loosening its stranglehold, for my mother was no ordinary woman; she was a Polish woman; neither was she an ordinary Catholic; she was Polish Catholic. As surely as corn dogs harden the arteries, Polish Catholicism, as manifest in women of my mother’s generation,hardens the brain until it becomes impervious to reason.



“You Are Cordially Invited to the Open Marriage Ceremony of Darren and Linda Johnson,” by Lydia Oxenham

Jan 16th, 2019 | By

We are gathered here today to open the marriage of Darren and Linda Johnson. Darren and Linda, you’ve been married for 10 years and have three children, but you’re just not feeling the spark. Maybe you never were. And your sex life has been almost nonexistent for the past few years. Just look at Darren… This is not a man who has had sex in a very long time.



“Tucker’s Honky-Taco Will Gladly Donate To Hurricane Relief As Long As You Buy Something From Us” by Ben Hargrave

Jan 9th, 2019 | By

Tucker’s Honky-Taco is a worldwide fast food institution known not just for pioneering the assembly line guacamole production process, but also for being dedicated to social corporate responsibility by committing acts of benevolence when disaster strikes. That’s why when Hurricane Todd ravaged the southeastern seaboard from Piney Bluff, Georgia to Sawgrass, Florida a week ago, killing thousands, displacing millions, and causing billions of dollars in damage, Tucker’s Honky-Taco knew it was our civic duty to donate money to hurricane relief as long as you buy something from us.



“The Skinny on Putting on Skinny Jeans – A 12 Step Program,” By Dan MacIsaac

Jan 2nd, 2019 | By

1. Starve. Be a sizzling super model on a hunger strike. Not a crumb on your tongue. Not a sip past your lips.



“Weird Santa,” by Liyou Mesfin Libsekal

Dec 25th, 2018 | By

In my early twenties, I had a Franco-American boyfriend who, despite what his background might suggest, knew very little about the world. Once, he found a childhood picture of me sitting on a black Santa’s lap and almost gave himself an aneurism. I watched him convulse, all thirty two of his little brown teeth exposed, the vein on his temple threatening to pop over a man in a bad wig. A black Santa, the hilarity! I, of course, didn’t think it was weird at all. But then again, no one had a weirder Santa than my family. Our Weird Santa came year round, and he took cramped commercial flights instead of the usual herd of reindeer.