TO KEEP MICE FROM DROWNING
by Becky Boncal
Image by the author
[audio:http://www.hootreview.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/ToKeepMiceFromDrowning.mp3|titles=ToKeepMiceFromDrowning]

My parents took me to “look at schools.” I sat in on a
psychology lecture at Duke. The topic: adjunctive behavior. It
was found that mice, when fed a single food pellet every 150
seconds, drank obsessive amounts of water. Their bodies swelled,
but they kept drinking. If not stopped, they would drown. The
instructor said that a milder form of such behavior is exhibited
in humans, and gave the example that often when you are studying
or doing homework, you might eat a snack, even if you are not
hungry. My parents pulled me out of college in the middle of my
sophomore year. My roommate tipped them off—caught me in the
shared bathroom. In ten years, I have not felt my knuckle on the
roof of my mouth, but I keep a scab hidden beneath my hair, on
my scalp, that I refuse to let heal.

 

 

BEING
by Danielle Ferrara
[audio:http://www.hootreview.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/being.mp3|titles=being]

my son and I must build with dust

tunnels to travel through nebulas

we
wash ourselves with
cratered cells
both
he looks at the moon and he says you are not my mother

i think he might see out
of his eye
the round shoulders

and we stay untremblingly
still, like
grains of soil

 

 

ZUCCHINI HEIST
by Sara Rauch
[audio:http://www.hootreview.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/Zucchini-Heist-Voice.mp3|titles=Zucchini Heist Voice]

The gardens were dark. Maria, my accomplice—her muscles and stealth legendary.
We slunk through the plots. The zucchini had tripled in size since my last visit. I
parted the leaves and with one swoop of the machete severed the hirsute stem.
Maria sighed. I stroked the dark green skin. Hoisting it between us, we hustled
through the gardens. At the perimeter I tangled my ankle in a thicket of snap peas.
I held the zucchini as I fell, howling. A dog began to bark. Maria cursed softly while
she freed my leg. I trailed her to the station wagon, desperate to keep the zucchini.
She slid it into the trunk. The old wool blanket barely covered its edges. I stood
stunned by its bulk. The barking became louder, more insistent. Maria gunned the
engine, yelled Mario, andiamo, eeediot. She knew they’d never post bail. It was
my third offense.

 

 

FELLATIO
by Tatiana Ryckman
[audio:http://www.hootreview.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/Fellatio.mp3|titles=Fellatio]

Sometimes I say stupid things, and I want to cover my naked body with a clear plastic
sheet, like a tight shower curtain, so my breath will fog it up around my face and when I’m found,
molding and slowly suffocated, words like disgrace will be used to describe me. This is how I felt
when I forgot the word fellatio in a taco joint in the north part of town. I said, stupidly, Isn’t that a
boy’s name? And then I wanted to die.

 

 

SUMMER
by Catherine Young
Image by Cath Barton
[audio:http://www.hootreview.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/Summer-Young.mp3|titles=Summer Young]

Alone in the woods with a surprised husky, a boy, and a wailing alarm, I fling open windows and doors until at last, Silence.

My young son and I were visiting a friend in northern Minnesota.  She left for work. We trudged surrounding tamarack woods and leaped through wild strawberry wetlands, hummock to hummock and Oops! my son plunged in. Wet, cold, hungry, he cried as we reached the house.

My friend’s husky watched as I melted cheese on bread in the toaster oven.   When the smoke alarm went off, it surprised us all.

 

—

Becky Boncal graduated from the George Mason University MFA program. She teaches writing at John Tyler Community College in Richmond, VA. Her current project is a collection of stories about people living/working in a retirement community. Her work has appeared in The Buried Letter.

Danielle Ferrara is currently an English undergrad at Marist College, big into dreams, loves ghost stories. She hopes to publish novels.

Sara Rauch loves vegetables. When she’s not eating them, she’s writing about them, working on a novel, blogging at sararauch.com, and running Cactus Heart Literary Magazine (http://cactusheartpress.com).

Tatiana Ryckman was born in Cleveland, Ohio.

Catherine Young lives with her family in the Upper Midwest where each day is a miracle.