November Issue

Tick-tock, Doc.

Tick-tock, Doc.

Guys. GUYS. Our sixtieth issue. If you were to read one issue per second, starting now, it would be a full minute before you finished reading all of them.

I’ll pause to let that sink in.

Issue 60 has little things: a splinter, subatomic particles, spaces between teeth. It also has biggish things: a fish that’s not a fish, a stuffy guy in fancy dress, the consequences of time-travel, a pachyderm.

All these things, and more. Absorb it online or cop the PDF.

It’s Aliiiiiiiive!

May your Halloween be haunted and rock-free.

May your Halloween be haunted and rock-free.

It’s time to put on your best Scotchtoberfest kilt and tune up those bagpipes; Issue 59 is here!

Gio Clairval kicks things off with a tale of a dental assistant who sends some of her patients home with a little something extra. Then Don Katnik cools things down with a wintry supernatural tale. Mark J. Mitchell reflects on the grim state of the job market in a melancholy yet whimsical sonnet, and Gary Moshimer sets spines a-tingling with a story of a babysitter with questionable taste in dairy products and a baby who is anything but helpless. Next up is Yvonne Yu, who takes a surprisingly candid look at sexy mermaid fantasies. Finally, Gregory J. Wolos ends on an upbeat note with a story about a crematorium explosion survivor and his furry neighbor. And over everything the lovely, spooky cover art from Yuri Shwedoff sets an autumnal mood.

Read it by a crackling bonfire, if you can. And don’t forget the s’mores. Check it out online or read the PDF.

Coming soon: the October Issue

Pumpkin

Resistance is futile.

Ah, October. The month where every beverage and dessert tastes like jack o’ lantern farts.

We’ll be foisting our fifty-ninth issue onto your eyeballs and into your brains (mmm . . . braaaiiiiins) shortly, but in the meantime, if you haven’t had a chance to check out the radical flash and dope poems in our September issue, you totally should.

And if you’re more in the mood for a novel, we highly recommend the spooky, swampy Hagridden, by our own Samuel Snoek-Brown.