If there’s one thing I learned in Mr. Murphy’s Chemistry class—apart from using a bunsen burner to make peanut-brittle—it’s to always specify units with your measurements. Thirty what? Six-point-five what? Knowing this crucial information was the only thing keeping your test-tube from exploding, or your test from losing twenty percent of its grade. For the […]
Totally like whatever, you know? By Taylor Mali (Thanks, Phil!)
(via I Can Has Cheezeburger?)
Fifteen By Leslie Monsour The boys who fled my father’s house in fear Of what his wrath would cost them if he found Them nibbling slowly at his daughter’s ear, Would vanish out the back without a sound, And glide just like the shadow of a crow, To wait beside the elm tree in the […]
We went to Denny’s—the bad one—on Saturday. I excused myself to use the restroom, and nearly opened the door into the face of a ten-year-old boy. His grandfather was washing his hands, and his younger brother was loitering beneath the paper towel dispenser. ‘See, what did I just tell you,’ said Grandpa, over his shoulder. […]
Spaghetti with meatballs. Turkey meatballs. Murkeyballs. Ian doesn’t eat; to our collective surprise, he eats these. He’s finished the meat and only noodles remain, cooling and covered in Parmesan. He eats string by string, tilting his head back as far as he can, a cavalier sword-swallower dropping noodles into his mouth. The pasta falls into […]
An excerpt from The Yiddish Policemen’s Union, by Michael Chabon, which explains perfectly why Ian is not allowed to sleep in our bed. Detective Landsman has been grazed by a bullet, and taken to a friend’s home to recuperate. His friend has four children, and Landsman has been given his friend’s bed in which to […]
I was on the prom court in high school. Seriously! I had no business being there. I was Harvey Firestein standing in for Plácido Domingo. I felt self-conscious and awkward; I was also touched. I wasn’t chosen King, but I made a darned good Chamberlain. It was the first and—so far—only time I wore a […]
At Becky’s Piano Recital By Carl Dennis She screws her face up as she nears the hard parts, Then beams with relief as she makes it through, Just as she did listening on the edge of her chair To the children who played before her, Wincing and smiling for them As if she doesn’t regard […]
I remember holding Ian with one arm. He rested lengthwise, head nestled in the crook of my arm. If he wanted to sleep, he turned his face toward my chest. Otherwise he looked away, carried by his weary palanquin, Master to my Blaster. And I’d sway, pat, sway, pat. Left. Right. Left. Ian had a […]