Posts Tagged ‘ Prose ’

“My Boyfriend Is Gaining Weight And I Feel Shallow Because He’s Too Fat To Rescue Me From This Tower,” by Ben Hargrave

Feb 14th, 2018 | By

My boyfriend Ken and I have been in a beautiful relationship for thirteen years. What started out as a childhood friendship turned into a wonderful, harmonious union of mind, body, and soul. But now the body part is beginning to sag. Ken’s body, to be specific. He is gaining weight and I feel shallow because he’s too fat to rescue me from this tower.



“Nihilist BuzzFeed Quizzes,” by Zoe Baillargeon

Feb 7th, 2018 | By

Pick your fave food item from Chipotle and we’ll guess the exact time and date when you realized life has no purpose.



“This letter is really signed by the CEO of your credit card company,” by Luke Roloff

Jan 31st, 2018 | By

Dear Person,

I hope this letter finds you confused and reliant on people with money.

I’m writing, me, the CEO, to let you know about how our big company did something bad.



“Piano Hoarding Christians,” by Kristy Gherlone

Jan 24th, 2018 | By

The people across the street will not teach me piano. They told me ‘no’, even after I had put on a clean shirt, combed my hair, and walked all the way over there. I thought it would be like asking for a cup of sugar, like neighbors sometimes do. “Will you teach me piano?” I asked nicely.



“Hold the Cheese,” by Mike Frenkel

Jan 17th, 2018 | By

On this day, I had reached the limit of my tolerance. It had gone too far and I now felt compelled to express my disdain for the ubiquity of cheese that has spread like a noxious malignancy throughout our culinary culture. Yes. You heard me. CHEESE! Fromage. Parmesan. Pec-er-ino roman-o. Cheddar. Prov-a-lone. Monterey Jack. I spit out these words like profanities.



“A Thoreau Thing,” by June Forte

Jan 10th, 2018 | By

My brother Jim called to tell me he was about to bid on a 50-acre island in the middle of the Illinois River.

“We want to scale down,” he said. “Do the Thoreau thing. You know—Walden Pond.”



“Screenplays I Wrote When I Was a Teen,” by Lee Blevins

Jan 3rd, 2018 | By

I wrote seven feature length screenplays between the ages of twelve and seventeen. That’s one per year plus an extra one junior year when I got too stoned by myself for the first time. None of these screenplays were ever produced because I both was underage and undertalented (that’s untalented with an extra der). I list them here so my sister’s future children shall be able to see how much cooler their uncle could have been than them.



“Logic, the Universe, and Pigs,” by Ali Kashkouli

Dec 27th, 2017 | By

As a child one rarely questions religious beliefs. Your parents tell you what to believe and that’s that. My father was never the religious type, but would occasionally be found to utter a short prayer whenever convenient for him. My mother, however, adhered fairly strictly to the Islamic tradition and made the effort to pray as much as possible. Namaz, she called it. The incongruity between my father’s more lax perspective and my mother’s incessant incantations really made me wonder. Did God want to be constantly bothered with the insignificant events of our daily lives or was He more into the gestalt? What if God really was a micromanager? Would someone like my dad end up getting the cold shoulder because of his inconsistent appeals?



“Sad Acorn Review,” by Hayley Rosenfield

Dec 20th, 2017 | By

It had not been a good Christmas Eve for the Nyhus family. It started off all wrong when Eric arrived late donning a new girl on his arm, a woman the family had no idea even existed, let alone would be joining them for the evening. Her name was Eden, and while friendly enough, she wore so many fake gold bangles on her arm that it caused a racket while taking communion at First Lutheran that night.



“Anabasis,” by Daniel Galef

Dec 20th, 2017 | By

Mr. Stevenson must have had a first name, but, if so, his teachers didn’t know it. “Is that so, Stevenson?” they inquired. “Speak up, Stevenson, so that the whole class can hear you.” Mr. Stevenson’s parents probably knew his first name at one point, but may have forgotten. His friends didn’t know it, for the same reason that unicorns don’t know the capital of North Dakota.