Prose
Nov 20th, 2009 |
By Defenestration
Tesla invented a tower to make electricity, the ground being the source. One chilly night Uncle Alfred rolled up an electric blanket at the bottom of his bed, turned it on to warm his feet and died of asphyxiation from smoke caused by the fire when it short-circuited. I was incredulous a man who’d built
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Posted in Prose |
Comments Off on “Creation Theory,” by Diane Andrews
Tags: Diane Andrews, Prose, Prose VI.II, VI.II
Nov 20th, 2009 |
By Defenestration
Frank received a letter reminding him that as a resident of Grand City, he was legally obligated to purchase and consume one medium pizza per week . The letter, signed by the city clerk, stated that city ordinances mandated all pizzas had to be purchased from a restaurant owned by the mayor. Frank yelped when
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Posted in Prose |
Comments Off on “Painful Pizza,” by Michael A. Kechula
Tags: Michael A. Kechula, Prose, Prose VI.II, VI.II
Nov 20th, 2009 |
By Defenestration
Henry and Claire kiss passionately on the bed. There is a knock at the door. HENRY: I’ll answer that, my dear. Henry walks down the stairs, and sees his elderly neighbors Merv and Louise Weiner through the screen-door. MERV (To Louise): I toldja he’d be here. Every time with this guy- LOUISE (To Merv): Be
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Posted in Prose |
Comments Off on “The Time Traveler’s Neighbors,” by Dan Perlman
Tags: Dan Perlman, Prose, Prose VI.II, VI.II
Oct 20th, 2009 |
By Defenestration
Of all crimes perpetrated against breakfast foods–ranging everywhere from bagels to pop tarts to omelets–in the United States, the most heinous has gained nationwide exposure only in the last two decades. This crime against breakfast food is all the more profound because it targets the most innocuous victim: cereal. Before exploring examples of the terrible
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Posted in Prose |
Comments Off on “Woman Reveals She Just Can’t Help Herself,” by Deborah Gottner
Tags: Deborah Gottner, Prose, Prose VI.XII, VI.XII
Oct 20th, 2009 |
By Defenestration
Doctor Will stared into the darkness beyond his office window. It was two o’clock in the morning but he just had to call her. He snatched up the receiver and dialed, waiting several rings before she picked up. “Gladys,” he said, “we need to talk.” “At two o’clock in the morning?” “I’m leaving Agnes for
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Posted in Prose |
Comments Off on “The Will to Live,” by Pavelle Wesser
Tags: Pavelle Wesser, Prose, Prose VI.XII, VI.XII