“Bond Has Hemorrhoids”
by Art Heifetz
“What’s the matter James?”
the Eurasian beauty asked,
“Not in the mood?”
“It’s a delicate matter,” he replied.
wincing at the pain.
Too many dry martinis.
in an Aston-Martin
with a bad suspension.
An awkward leap
from a moving train in Bangladesh.
To be an aging action hero
was no picnic.
She looked at him
with her exotic olive eyes.
“Do you still love me James?”
“Not tonight, I’m afraid.”
He inserted each cufflink
carefully in place
and went back to the Casino
to try his luck at Baccarat
and see if he could spot
his bald Chinese nemesis,
hopefully as out of shape as he.
“Advice to a Prospective English Major”
by Dan Morey
I spent four years with Poe and Keats,
Pondering Thoreau and parsing the Beats.
I scribbled my essays from night until morn,
And flattered professors till my conscience was worn.
With each passing week my head swelled up with knowledge,
And I suddenly knew why they warned me of college.
But haggard and weary, still I persisted:
Hard work builds character, my father insisted.
Finally one May, they said I was done,
So I packed up my books and took off at a run.
I dreamed about Benchley and Parker and Thurber,
How they quipped and got blotto with Kaufman and Ferber.
They were writers, and wits, and critics most able,
Who spent many hours beneath their round table.
That’s it! thought I, that’s just what I’ll do—
I’ll head off to Gotham and make my debut!
I arrived in New York both ready and willing,
Certain I’d become the next Lionel Trilling.
But quickly my hope turned to utter dismay,
As each magazine turned me briskly away.
I moped and I drank and I tried every scheme—
I even kept stats for a bocce ball team.
I wrote up some ads for grandfather clocks
And then tried my foot at modeling socks.
But, alas, in New York it was not meant to be,
So I crawled on back home with my useless degree.
I got a job at a drug store in downtown Racine,
With my diploma above me, by the Slurpee machine.
I’ve grown morbid and bitter—an utter recluse
With no happy thoughts, save those of the noose.
So if you suspect you’re linguistically smart,
Take my advice and go straight to K-Mart.
“Reptile Christ Came to My Uncle’s Funeral”
by Katie Eber
Reptile Christ gave a lovely sermon,
crooned Rock of Ages and told us to celebrate
He read from John 14, from First Thessalonians –
the one everyone reads at funerals –
spoke with a lisp and his tail
poked out from under his robe.
We all bowed our heads
and recited the Lord’s Prayer
…forgive ussss our tressspasssssessss
asss we forgive thosssse who tresssspassss
After the service
we retired to the community room
where we served cookies and tea
remembered my uncle – his love for science-fiction
and his need to carry a towel everywhere he went
(either for sweat or as an homage to Douglas Adams,
no one really knew) –
and the kick he would get
out of Reptile Christ telling stories
from his college days
where he and the 94 other pastors-in-training
nailed all their theses to the Dean’s door,
replaced the communion wine with Pabst Blue Ribbon
and went to the Iowa State Fair
as an exhibit, The Incredible Lutheran
Man-Snake!, and won first prize.
“and so madness reigns supreme”
by Rose Betit
they are all meeting for dinner,
those most likely to be the anti-christs,
at 6 oclock
on the 6th of june
to discuss who is most most likely.
barack obama is in strong running,
according to the third eagle of the apocalypse,
but let’s not forget the pope
and the artist formerly known as prince
and beyoncé and jay-z’s baby
might be a close fourth
if it weren’t for madonna’s standing.
with so many sparkplugs proclaiming
to know the truth with a youtube video to prove
it, how’s a common human supposed to know?
we could ask michelle. for sure she’d have the inside scoop
at least where barack is concerned.
..but wait! i’ve heard she could be a shape shifter
and , don’t you know?
you just can’t trust a shape shifter.