
Ben & Winslow
Spider Bias
Winslow knew exactly what was going to happen. But why stop a show, right?
Recent Posts
- “To the Proprietors of Fisteria,” by Jill Adams
- “Episode Guide for the Upcoming Gritty Reboot of Wishbone,” by Tyler Austin and Patrick Eme
- “A Car Like Mine,” by Steve Schutzman
- “I See Dick People,” by Marsha Smolev
- Defenestration: April 2022
- “Nosferatu’s Masterclass in Presenting to Stakeholders,” by Zara Karschay
- “The Best Bo,” by Mark Brazaitis
- “The Endless Televisions,” by Derek Lake Berghuis
- “The Family Company,” by Agata Antonow
- “The Cultural Repository,” by Katherine Cowley
Featured

Welcome, welcome, to the April 2022 issue of Defenestration! It might be spring, but the weather has gotten cold and wet and miserable around Defenestration HQ, which means we all had to dig our sweaters out of storage and made the tough decision to burn our charming wooden deck furniture for warmth. Nature is against us, friends, but that hasn’t stopped the latest issue from dropping right on time.

Welcome, one and all, the the December 2021 issue of Defenestration: the literary magazine that has been dedicated to humor for so long that we stopped keeping track. (That’s a lie. Eileen has been keeping track. One deep scar on the wall of her living room for every month Defenestration has existed. It looks as if a cat the size of a Volkswagen has been trying to claw its way out of her home.)

Good morning, everyone! Happy Friday and best wishes to all of you on this fine 20th of August! And welcome! Welcome to the latest issue of Defenestration, which, if we’ve assembled this thing correctly (and we think we have), contains the sum total of everything you have ever thought was hilarious and condensed it into an easily consumable format. (And coming soon: Defenestration, the suppository!)
Nonfiction

It was a crisp, fall day in 1981 and my brother Steve and I were searching our grandparents’ basement for Grandpa’s severed thumb. We were frantic, not because he needed to reattach it but because he promised a fifty-cent piece to whoever brought it back to him.
Fake Nonfiction

Let me say straight away that I have no problem living next door to a gay club, even one such as yours that boasts a fisting room in the back. I am a single, straight woman who has had minimal experience in that area, but unless someone is attempting to ram home a tractor, I fail to comprehend the intense groaning and outright wailing that comes directly up our shared air shaft and into my tiny kitchen.
Fiction

Transmogrify, take a ceiling beam if you wish, my words will retain their meaning whichever way you choose to hang. All I beseech you is, please, save your questions until the end. Dawn is but a few hours hence. And we must use what these new men call the “small hours” to master my last class in stakeholder management.
Poetry

One morning man in nursing home
walks out of room with robe open, genitals hanging out.
Lady next door shouts Oh my goodness!
Then slams her door.
Man lifts genitals and says They dead.
Ben & Winslow

Winslow knew exactly what was going to happen. But why stop a show, right?