Our hope is to publish work by those who have come to view mere existence as brutally painful while purely hilarious. Though we hope this is a driving force behind much of the work found herein, we realize there are some good writers out there whom have a more positive outlook on things.
This past summer was like all other suburban summers: short and hot. Short enough so that it came and went and, having not overstayed its welcome, would be welcomed again. Hot enough that little kids cracked eggs on their asphalt driveways, scrambled for a round of hide and go seek, and before the tiny seeker could finish counting to ten and move her hands from her eyes, the yolks were very well done. On both sides.