Fake Nonfiction

“Governor Scott Dissolves Jacksonville to Bail Out Cash-Strapped State,” by Eric Mohrman

Sep 7th, 2011 | By

Governor Rick Scott has announced his latest tactic to rescue Florida from dire financial straits. After declaring Eustis–a rural, tea-party infested central town–the new state capital, Scott called a press conference at his Lake County office to reveal that Jacksonville is no more. Scott overturned the city’s 1968 consolidation with Duval County, and the two were granted an annulment by the small but feisty pastor the Governor carries around in his breast pocket.



“The Reluctant Eulogist,” by Alexei Kalinchuk

Aug 31st, 2011 | By

At the funeral, few spoke in honor of my uncle. The shame! After all the man had done for everyone present! When all those tender spoken anecdotes added up to so little, such a mite in a man’s eye, I decided to liven up things in the dead man’s name. Having died almost childless, half-friendless, a loner in a small town far from the bustling metropolis he’d been born into, the thought of him going into oblivion without a proper sendoff, haunted me. So I stood up unsteadily.



“Only a Pony,” by Hugh Burgess

Aug 10th, 2011 | By

Odd how a small thing can stir a huge memory. One Saturday morning, on NPR’s “It’s Only a Game,” the talk had turned to the versatility of a noted sports writer, who was not, said commentator Glenn Stout, “just a one-note pony.” My body jacked bolt upright in its recliner, my Ovaltine sloshed into my lap, and my mind barely choked off an expletive so crude that it is now commonly reserved for strolling gangs of teenage girls. One Note Pony? Who in the name of Gypsy Rose Lee would possibly remember!

Tuneful ponies are, of course, rare, and nowadays seldom noticed.



“Supplicant Applicant,” by J. Thompson

Aug 3rd, 2011 | By

We have heard that you are looking for a job, which doesn’t surprise us since you haven’t been setting the world on fire lately. If you follow the simple guidance entailed in this form then you too can join an exciting community of obedient uniform wearers. If you don’t want to join our team you are wasting only your own time because we have automated the process to better screen the hoards of applicants the failing economy sends our way. Dutiful robots and almost equally cheap citizens of Bangalore winnow this pool to ensure that only the best and brightest will stock the shelves of your community and return carts to corrals.



“My Elevator Pitch for Les Fleurs du Mal 3-D,” by Joseph S. Pete

Jul 27th, 2011 | By

Sir, do you like $300 million? That’s what the last teenybopper vampire flick grossed stateside, so you’ve got to ask yourself: What else could rally another million moody girl march on the multiplexes? I’ve got your answer: poetry. That’s right, poetry. Can’t you just hear the susurrus of credit card swipers across the country swelling into a mighty crescendo?