Fiction

“Beef 9000: The Future of A.I.-Powered Fast Food Drive Thrus,” by Matthew Blasi

Apr 20th, 2025 | By

Citizens—or should we say, friends! Because that’s what we are, friends, all of you in your major or minor metropolitan centers that we are addressing, and we, Speed Grub Inc., makers of the best-selling A.I. Blender “The Obliterator,” and the world’s first A.I.-controlled hair dryer, “Crisp Xtreme,” are excited to bring you our latest innovation, the world’s first A.I.-powered fast food drive thru: “Beef 9000!”



“Moth or Man?” by Carrie R. Hinton

Apr 20th, 2025 | By

My name is Mothereal Mandible, but most just call me “Moth Man” or “Oh my God, what the fuck is that”. Of the two nicknames, I prefer the former. 

When I was younger, I was in all the gifted programs. I excelled in fostering terror and distress. They told me I was going places—wild, exotic places. West Virginia, Eastern West Virginia, the whole state was going to know my name.



“Thirteen Worms Were Killed During the Digging of Your Grandmother’s Grave,” by M.C. Schmidt

Apr 20th, 2025 | By

I’m not equivocating because, obviously. She was a gardener, though, right? She won that flower thing at the community center back in ’87 and then again in ’93? Now isn’t the time, but there are almost certainly legions more, dead from the pitiless blade of your grandmother’s trowel. I know, I know, I know I shouldn’t bring it up here.



“No Conspiracy,” by Bronwen Everill

Dec 20th, 2024 | By

I once had a friend who didn’t believe in pirates.

She said, “They’re a conspiracy.”

I said, “why?”

“I’ve never seen one.”

I nodded. I had no idea what she was talking about.



“Oh, Indy!” by Camille Bliss

Dec 20th, 2024 | By

River Hickey was my first bite. That was his name—River Farslayer Hickey. In the app he told me interesting names make for interesting people and I asked if I could be the judge of that. Later that same evening, he pulled up to the old lady’s house whose attic I sleep in with his cherry-red pickup. When I sat in the passenger seat, he stared at me like I polished off a meals-worth of mayonnaise packets.