Posts Tagged ‘ Prose ’

“Madame Chanterelle’s Scourge, or, Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Foolish Consistency,” by Hermester Barrington

Mar 2nd, 2022 | By

It is a family legend that my great-great granduncle Ezekiel used to go on fishing trips with his close friend Ralph Waldo Emerson, at the end of which, Waldo—he preferred the name Waldo to Ralph, if you can believe it—inevitably dragged my relative to a local brothel (no one in my family believes this, but still).

“A Nonsense on Stilts,” by Alexei Kalinchuk

Feb 23rd, 2022 | By

A tin-plated nonsense came up over the hill on spindly legs and entered our village at a stately pace.  Our village, having never seen such a thing, crowded the visitor, eager for a chance to benefit from its peculiar form of smarts.  Presently, the crowd around the figure thickened so that its stilts now acted as posts sunk into the earth.  Its immobility was all the better for the onlookers to worship it, and although skeptics existed, they were shouted down by the others.  The nonsense itself, now robbed of the ability to execute its gawky walk, it preferred, I thought, not to make itself a target of ridicule.  It stayed in our village thereafter.

“Dear Prudence: Why Don’t Any Of My Dying Friends Want Me To Be The Bette Midler To Their Soon-To-Be-Orphaned Kids?” by Sara Corris

Feb 16th, 2022 | By

Hey Prudie,

I’m a thirty-something woman, and as you can imagine, I’m getting to that age where all my lady-gendered friends are dropping like flies. Ditto for female relatives and my paramour’s various exes. Cancer, bum tickers, car accidents–you name it, they’re dying tragically young from it. And creating passels of little orphan kids in the process, natch.

“Finally, a Streaming Service That Just Lives Your Life for You,” by Luke Roloff

Feb 9th, 2022 | By

Hey, you. Yeah, you, sitting there. Why go on struggling with the hell of switching from one streaming service to the next? Snap out of it, you soft-brained human. You need to subscribe to one holistic service that inhabits your soul and lives your life for you at an easy $19.99 a month.

“I am Jeff Lynne’s Friend Bruce and I Did Not Bring Him Down,” by Miriam Jayaratna

Feb 2nd, 2022 | By

Hi there, the name’s Bruce, I’ll be your caddy for the afternoon.  You might think you know me from Electric Light Orchestra’s 1979 classic, “Don’t Bring Me Down.”  The words in the chorus sound like, “don’t bring me down, BRUCE,” but my name isn’t actually in it.  That song is an earworm, though, and the line that sounds like “Brrrruuuce” is an even tinier worm that crawled in the ear of the earworm and held on for its dear wormy life.