Defenestration

Defenestration: April 2011

Welcome to the April 2011 issue of Defenestration!

You could call this the “Five by Five” issue. That’s not a Buffy the Vampire Slayer reference, but it could be, because back then vampires were cool. No, it refers to the layout for this issue. This time around, we’ve published the work of five short story writers and five poets. If symmetry delights you, then the table of contents alone will be enough to entertain you for hours.

Of course, there’s more to this issue than its table of contents (which is pretty great). We have monkeys and sex and Andy Garcia. We also have a story about a ham sandwich—I daresay it’s the greatest story about a ham sandwich that’s ever been published. And that’s only scratching the surface. This issue features a lot of new faces and a couple of familiar ones. I hope you like it as much as Bigfoot does.

Three Poems by Emily Severance

Sharp As A Tack

Self help insult books are on the rise
Since researchers discovered
the severely critical remain
sharp as a tack into old age;
alzheimers thwarted
with withering stares.

“An Honest Love Poem,” by Adam Gianforcaro

I hear these pop stars
are falling in love,
stumbling blind for
chic gowns
and ballroom brides,

“The Secret of Andy’s Success,” by Jim Bennett

I am Andy Garcia’s conjoined twin.
(Yes, that Andy Garcia. The actor.)
A ghost you could call me, I suppose,
Wikipedia calls me the “dead parasitic twin on his left shoulder.”
How would you like that for your epitaph?

“Zoo Ghazal,” by Holly Jensen

In Australia, Huntsman spiders kill in cars. One sees a spider the size of a
child’s hand rush across the dash, one exits the road at freefall. (Clever girl.)

“Scrotum Humanum,” by Jennifer Clark

In 1676, because
he did not doubt
the greatness of
man, Robert Plot

mistook that which
remained—the knee

“What Monkey Wants,” by Andy Glasser

The University wasn’t too impressed that I had taught the monkey to speak. No matter what I did, they always required more.

I knew that when I taught Chester to clean my office, put away my books, sweep up the cookie crumbs, and make neat piles of paper on my desk, it wasn’t going to impress the department. But I couldn’t lose with that, so I considered it my first success, regardless.

“The Untold History of Ham Sandwich’s First Rival,” by Nelson Lloyd

Everyone knows about the history of Ham Sandwich, left unconsumed in the department break room on the afternoon of December 12th when its then owner, Dr. Perry Birmbo, decided to go out to lunch with colleagues. As most know, the deli-sliced, pumpernickel housed entrée—whose genius had until then gone entirely unnoticed—went on to receive its Ph.D. in Comparative Literature from Yale in 1960. From its beginning as part of the incoming class of ’54, the sandwich defied all expectations by becoming the John Newsmith Fellow in ’56, the winner of the third-year teaching award in ’59, and the recipient of the Dana D. Hampsted Prize for the best dissertation by a non-eating member since Mary Veneble’s teacup had stolen the show in 1892. The rest, involving the mounting accusations of anti-Semitism that led to the “Bad Air Affair” and Sandwich’s subsequent precipitous plummet from public grace in the recent months, is popular knowledge.

“She Wanted a Romance on Classics Night, but it was His Turn,” by Shelley Ontis

He grunted and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Winston Smith is a pussy. They could strap a cage of rats to my face and I wouldn’t give up my woman.”

“But rats were his biggest fear. What about bamboo shoots under the nails?” she asked. “Hot poker in the eye? You’d squeal like a girl and escort Big Brother to my door.”

“Nothing would break me.”

“Two Hundred You,” by Alex Koplow

Things You Should Hate: You should hate the name Jen. You should hate that you’ve said it so many, many times. You will decide that her name looks ugly and foreign, like a Swedish abbreviation for January.

Girls You Should Have Sex With: You should have sex with the exact opposite of Jen. You should have sex with a girl who looks exactly like her. You are not going to have sex for what feels like a thousand Jens.