Prose

“A few laps around Dog Leg Park and then home,” by Freda Payne

Apr 30th, 2025 | By

I like jogging even though it hurts my ass.

I jog alone. Always have done. Always will. I have no desire to join those run club cults. The ones that require $500 bowel movement tracking GPS watches, taut and tanned legs, spongy art gallerist trainers, banal flirtation between lonely souls, post-run oat flat whites, and sex-freak vests.



“Even Fish Have to Have a Fish Story,” by Jeff Bender

Apr 23rd, 2025 | By

Of the top ten things I wanted in a new house, a pond was not one of them. When we decided to move to our present house, the pond we inherited was a murky-algae-puddle that I envisioned as a future patio. As we began tackling projects, we moved the pond work to the bottom of the priority list, seeking a way to keep it going temporarily until I could hire a bulldozer to fill it in with dirt.



“How to Break Ice,” by Olivia Frances Hill

Apr 20th, 2025 | By

The students shuffled in dribs and drabs into the first class of eleventh grade. Some had arrived ten minutes early, while others entered to the serenade of the late bell. For the most part, they were tired and sunburnt and achingly hormonal. They sighed en masse, preparing wearily to leave butt sweat marks on the blue metal seats. The teacher walked in haggard and hungover, but he managed to hide it quite well, because he had a Masters degree in education. His presence inspired immediate annoyance. A burp rang out, a toaster strudel fanfare.



“How to Get Elected Mayor with a Hamburger for a Head,” by Matt Leibel

Apr 20th, 2025 | By

Wake up one morning and realize that you’ve changed. It’s not just the ravages of time and age: your cranium is now a literal beef patty, encased in a pillow of bun, slathered with onion, ketchup, special sauce. You’re not sure how or why you’ve gotten into this predicament (you almost said pickle) but you know this is something that’s not supposed to happen in life.



“Grammar Gone Wild,” by Dana Wall

Apr 20th, 2025 | By

My phone buzzed at midnight. “We’ve got a situation,” my boss said. “Someone let the exclamation points out of their cage.”