Around the time I turned nine, Mother invented the Knife Game. She would plop something––a cucumber, an eggplant, or whole fish––and challenge me to slice, dice, or filet; choose the proper tool and make a masterpiece. I’d learned the art from watching her shave a...
Wendy Day 2 – Group A
A Promise for the Fugitive
Zychi III had devastating indigo skies which word has it even a black hole looked at so covetously it created a counterfeit world a replica that a survey crew saw before their transmission choked off After the cull you ordered, the crimson ripples left a legacy...
Agreed Value Insurance for a Film Noir Aficionado
The offer letter is addressed to the guy who used to live here, before I moved in. I don’t notice that until I’ve already opened the envelope. It has a glossy brochure, with a logo in flaring red, that makes me think of an unlikeable lipstick. It says, “Stop by for...
Jesse McCartney Wants You and Your Beautiful Soul
You can’t say you weren’t warned. He had a hit song about it. His siren song filled the mid-00s airwaves, imprinting on all the girls that would later flock to his mansion when adulthood proved to be a total letdown. When the front door opens, his music drifts out...
Huzzah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You are Henry VIII. You are 5’5’’ and built like a brick shithouse. Your forearm in tennis is phenomenal--your courtier-opponents always flopping to the ground when you strike a shot down the line. Huzzah! You shout. Huzzah! The little crowd of courtiers shouts behind...