August 9, 2022

“The Guacamole Incident,” by William Torphy

“The Guacamole Incident,” by William Torphy

Horace reaches for the party-sized plastic tub, hits it with his thumb and pushes it off the coffee table. The tub falls face-down, sending gobs of guacamole exploding across the new cream-colored Berber carpeting, instantly transforming its surface into an abstract painting of green clods and speckling red.   He slides off his lounge chair and kneels next to the goopy mess. Silvia will be home soon from her therapy appointment. There’s going to be hell to pay and he needs to think quickly. Grab something to sop up the carnage— a rag, a towel, a sponge. Maybe something like a trowel to first scoop up the worst of it. Armed with a spatula, he attempts to spoon up the chunky clumps but he only manages to spread the catastrophe further. He tosses the guac-covered spatula…

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August 5, 2022

“Abigail Branagan Takes the Case”

Happy August Fictional Cafe! In light of school starting soon for some listeners, I thought you’d enjoy a story from someone else in school. Presenting Abigail Branagan Takes the Case, read by Clarissa Dernederlanden. Your favorite middle-school private detective returns with an all-new adventure. A Private Eye has to take the cases she can get, and sometimes that means your clients are just the worst. Or even worse than that, your older brother. Chapter 1, in which old friends come calling and noses are lightly rearranged Chapter 2, in which awkward introductions are made awkwardly. Chapter 3, in which our hero restores her lair to its former grandeur. We hope you enjoyed Abigail Branagan. If you wish to listen to the rest of the story, you can find it on Audible, or Amazon. And of…

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August 4, 2022

“I’ll Have Water Overnice,” by Kaeli Dinh

“I’ll Have Water Overnice,” by Kaeli Dinh

I’ll have water overnice Freedom was getting to sleep over at our uncle’s. Fridays consisted of squirting ketchup into our waters and Saturdays with blankets over our eyes from the late-night horror films. We were three spoiled children that slept with sugar running through our veins and nightmares we didn’t tell our mother. Then the pencil marks on the wall got higher and our hands started to grab more. But uncle was still squirting ketchup into his water. Freedom was forgetting to answer his calls and taking cash out of the birthday cards he made. Keeping us healthy costs more than his insulin shots. But his hand kept feeding until he lost his sight. He was fooled humbling himself a Giving Tree. We took his only good apples and now his eyes. When he wanted…

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August 2, 2022

“Art as Comic Expression,” by David Meyers

“Art as Comic Expression,” by David Meyers

Artist’s Statement:In my artwork I am interested in the boundary between lowbrow and highbrow culture, the semiotics of visual language and revisionist mythology.  Emerging from a sardonic mire of humor, I look toward finding wonder in the mundane surroundings, a created narrative and a hair-brained idea somewhere between smart, silly and stupid. I love the visual language, the history and conversation that art creates, silly jokes, overthinking, under thinking and the dialogue in-between. I make the work that I want to see in the world. Art isn’t always about high notions of beauty and what ails the world, it can be about the screws in your pocket, about drinking a beer, about sitting in your underwear, about a piece of trash at the beach. Art’s power is its endurance, and I find it best fitting…

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