To read the latest issue, click 'Issues by year' in the menu above

She has a black housecat the size
of Sasquatch and twice as hairy.
At night the cat and his protective
sister, also black, sandwich
her between them in the bed,
warm bologna cuddled
by two purring pumpernickels.

Sometimes in the mornings she
awakes and finds a dampish toy
delivered to her pillow, the devolved
hunter’s treat of a single dying rat.
Hold the mustard.