NOTE: This is the final of four installments in this series. We will be featuring two hamburger joints at a time. Read previous installments 1, 2 and 3.

ABSTRACT

Within the pages of this

FIRST GINORMOUS MONSTER GIFS DO THEIR GALL ON CITIES LIKE THE CONSTANT PENETRATION WE KNOW WE PARSE AND THEN ROBOTS CHILDREN HAND THEIR SHOES TO FUCK YES THEIR LITTLE SHOES BY COMPARISON TO HOLY

Dear Sir or Madam,

I feel I need to begin by saying I am a longtime lover of your products. As a single mom some days after my shift I know I can stop by and acquire a good amount of your

I consider the narrow chain of cars pulled through city parks like kite-string.  In linguistics, mora is a single unit of syllabic weight.  I consider yelling at the yellow cab to add more syllabic weight to my overall point.

She was The Incorruptible, so named by a senior during the most grueling AP World semester ever. “Just one night off, Ms. L,” whined star student Jasmine, comically sliding halfway to the

At the diner, when David has been allowed to order a cup of coffee and become a thinking person again, he will begin to attempt to isolate the exact point in time when he decided to leave his wife.

3 comics by Nick Francis Potter

from Bombyonder

After the bird flu it wasn’t safe to eat the chicken or the stuffing. Gloves and knives couldn’t protect us. For the first time the chickens were calm as doves. For them, it was

Dearest Aubrey,

Thou hovereth - petite creature, mosaically charmed, whose eschewal doth blemish my undeserving metabolism - stroked betwixt channels what-have-you, tugged bestrewn through

As I write this, just past noon on the Fourth of July, the Phillies are losing to the Pirates 2-1 in the bottom of the fifth. If they hold on to lose, they’ll be six games under. 500 and—oh, in the

In his first book, Dead Funny, Rudolph Herzog explored the tricky history of humor and satire addressing Hitler and the Nazis in Germany. The Atlantic named Herzog’s debut one of their Best Books

Suppose the policeman does not come when you call him for help. So what good is the phone? What good is the policeman? Suppose the policeman is distantly related to a little Polish man who has

Curation

I told my first lie to a girl with a Hans Christian Andersen name, holding onto the metal bars in the playground while I spoke. The smell of pennies stayed on my hands until

Where Everywhere Snow, There Grass

There was a patch of grass. There was snow
around the patch of grass. There was me.
I am not about the snow; the snow is not about
me. Although

NOTE: This is the second of four installments in this series. We will be featuring two hamburger joints at a time. Read installments 1 and 2.

ABSTRACT

Within the pages of this report I’ve

Note to critics: Nicolas Winding Refn is your better.

The three of them were in the car headed eastbound I-90, on their way to Tiny’s Farm, when Millard thought of his first name of the day.

“Abraham,” he said. “That’s got to be the

Thing Being

               Écriture feminine

I was told on a train I was after

delicate—or something to do

with feathers. I heard bird, bird

bird. I heard the word

He led her blindfolded through the kitchen, down the steps to the backyard. “Birthday girl,” he had whispered to her this morning, offering her coffee in bed. 

In first grade

we had to make
a little booklet
about our dads.

You take a sheet
of paper, fold it
fold it again

and then draw
a picture
on every page.

Well, on the

will become

the morning your boots are filled with so much gravity that it is impossible to walk up or fall down a hill, will be the morning before violence. on this morning, the edge of

I’ve been shocked by reactions to This Is The End on two separate occasions. The first was after I’d seen the movie (three times) and a male acquaintance was shocked that a girl would even like it,

"Hills Like White Elephants" on a waffle.

The gouges / in the floor will become your scars, even as you erase / the life you had together. The floor is your map.

Parricide

Finally they took over the city of my father,
filled it with mosquitoes and bush fog, threw him
in a river of flamingo feces. His snide asides
fell on foreign ears, for

One summer, under the streetlamps, the storm clouds, our friend on life support...