Issue Forty-eight, November 2013

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Saving Jesus, Gary Moshimer
“Bunny was already eating the bag. I handed Jesus an eggroll and he chomped it with difficulty, shreds of cabbage and red pork product dribbling down the tee shirt. Bunny nibbled them off. Jesus writhed in agony and giggled. ‘What is this called?’ ‘I’d say you’re ticklish.'”

Only One Good Reason to Get a Haircut, Sloan Thomas
“Trying to outrun my problems in a rusted 1972 Chevy Nova takes more than an eighth of a tank of gas. There is only one gas station in town. It’s next to the junkyard on the other side of the bridge. The bridge is currently blocked. The bridge is blocked, because the owner of the junkyard died — leaving behind a shed stacked with dynamite.”

Katelyn, Lucas Dylan-Frances
“At night I called another girl. I told her I was fucking up too much and didn’t feel like myself. I knew she was tired of me. I would’ve been too if I had to listen to this. I said I understood the pantomimed nature of my phrasing. I could’ve been anybody right then. A stricken lover. A rebel whose veil is rent. I couldn’t go on talking to her.”

The Particular Human, Michael Schoch
“Everybody knows the colors and contours of a Hahmwhole SnakShak. None of the fans worked, and a few hung crooked from the particleboard ceiling. The floor stuck to my soles, and bits of Product clung to the chair legs and the tile grouting. Just one employee stood behind the counter, but the employee was attentive and still, ready for us before we had opened the door. This employee was a particular kind of human being.”

The Grey Egg, Alex Munkacsy
“The traveler turned the warm, grey, gelatinous egg around in his hands. His foot had dented it. There was something bony and sharp inside, so he held it up to the sun. In the center, the traveler saw a pointy chin and a crooked nose. A small mouth cracked open, yawning. ‘Where are you going?’ it said.”

Amazing Human Post-It Note, Ian Sacks
“Well, what do you think I did, among the smoke and fire? All the stillborn screams? I could hardly tell you; I could barely think. What I did was I dove out the broken window. I unfurled my body and felt the wind streams take me up. I felt like a flying squirrel. I pulled my paper arms toward me and plummeted. I understood now why I had been made this way.”

Cover art: Gutted, De Anne Hodum

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