This year, instead of publishing one massive exquisite corpse sometime early next year, we’ll be publishing it in chunks as we go along. Think of it as a semi-regular literary journal with contributions from both established authors and new voices.
Here are the entries for July through December.
But he didn’t and instead he put on his pants and marched out the door into the freezing cold weather, rain and snow.
Tragically, he only put on his pants, nothing else, and by the time he got to the salad bar, he had frozen solid. “Dang,” said Maurice, his only friend. “How will we open the salad bar now? There’s a line waiting at the door.”
Unfortunately there was nothing he could do about it, as most of his body was solid ice. He could only watch in horror as the crowd waited outside. They would wait forever.
They began with his nose, perhaps because it was melting fastest.
So they said good-bye to Frosty.
Then, being very thirsty, they drank him.
Uh-oh! Down the rabbit hole!
I hit rock bottom, but it was surprisingly soft.
My fingers searched in the darkness running over the undulating surface.
A light shined overhead, illuminating the darkness for one brief moment. I gasped in shock.
When I caught my breath at last the keys were gone, and so was the Caddie.
-Mark Peterson, 9/24/19
So I jumped in my friend’s Camaro and careened down Harvard Ave.
-Judah Leblang, 9/27/19
When suddenly a rabbit leaped in front of the car, its eyes glowing and unearthly blue.
Beams shot from those eyes, blinding everyone in the car, making it swerve off the road.
The car ran into and hit a troll. The troll roared and said, “What the heck?”
The troll wanted to go home and take a bath and read a book. Eat chocolate. But he needed vengeance and so he picked up the car to throw it over his head. And put it back down.
The troll decided he was too confused to destroy the car. Instead he poured chocolate all over the car, melted by his hot angry breath. As the chocolate hardened, he opened up his favorite book, “Zen and the Art of Troll Bridge Building,” and settled down to read and munch his chocolate-covered car.
“Wait a second,” he said. “This is only the jacket of my favorite book. This book is something entirely different!”
“Ah,” she said, “That is the concept on which this whole library is organized--surprise!”
“It’s very progressive,” said the librarian, “we let the books choose their own jackets.”
“Well, in that case,” I replied, “I will of course choose the tuxedo.”
“A tuxedo for romance?” The librarian smiled, surprised. “Well, now I’m even more interested.”
Tuxedo and its junction--originally less than formal. American style.
So they broke out the rhinestone studded duds, which sparkled while they slept.
Little did they know that the Duke had put a sleeping potion in their tea!
Slowly, they listed then fell. The carpet muffled their thuds. An object rolled out of his pocket and lay hidden in the shadow of a chair leg.