There is little room in the basement for the monster to fit. But he waits for me.
Monster W.T. Pfefferle
Category Archives: Issue 1
Ironic Robert Long Foreman
Weird Pig had tried many brands of personal lubricant. He found it ironic that his favorite brand was the generic stuff you can get at CVS called, simply, personal lubricant.
Married in Tennessee Carl Boon
In my Toyota on Route 32
near Farragut, we stopped
for chicken.
Washing Up Kevin Casey
In the foaming murk of the sink, a knife grasped with too much vigor,
and the wrinkled finger cut --
The Choice Doug Bolling
All Sisyphus’ silent joy is contained therein.
His fate belongs to him.
His rock is his thing.
—Albert Camus
Sisyphus chooses his rock,
perpetuity of ascent and fall,
celebration of a nothingness
that becomes something
Clear Katharyn Howd Machan
He writes a poem about the way that salt still lingers on his tongue beyond the fact that love’s dissolve was vaguely no one’s fault
A Comfortable-Enough Life Annabelle Fern Praznik
Nervous and fumbling with a crushed pack of Lucky Strikes—my brand, though I’d quit years ago—he reminded me of a fledgling fallen from the nest. Eyes searching the room wildly, tufts of black hair sprouting in cowlicks, beaky nose becoming redder and redder each time he wiped it with his handkerchief. I was shocked to see him this way. When we were in school together at Columbia, he was cool, reserved, collected.
Recipe S. F. Wright
It’s twelve o’clock, and Dan still isn’t here. I sit on the couch next to the small artificial Christmas tree; six or seven presents I’ve bought him lie underneath it. I’ve bought one for Alice, too, whom I’ve never met.
Blue Archive, Scraps, and Metal Layers Fabio Sassi
The Third Man’s Story Katharyn Howd Machan
She was dirty. Putrid. Unclean. I found her among the stolen parrots living wild on Telegraph Hill.
Questionnaire for Indeterminate Purposes Rosemary Royston
Do you nap?
Did you have chicken pox, wear footed pajamas?
Spiteful Cherry James Valvis
This is one spiteful cherry.
Bear D.M. O'Connor
I’ve just read a story about a bear
A Plop, a Plot Lois Marie Harrod
Imagine rain. Water rises. Water falls. Nice arc. A plop, a plot.
But where’s the conflict? Doesn’t there have to be conflict?