& Recently . . .

Dear Sally Field’s Agent

by Geoff Wolinetz

Sally Field c/o Creative Artists Agency 9830 Wilshire Blvd. Beverly Hills, CA 90212-1825 April 7, 2003 Dear Ms. Field, Let me begin by saying that I am a tremendous fan of your work. My friends always thought it odd that…

Dear N.Y.T.B.R. Pt. V

by Josh Abraham

The Editor The New York Times Book Review 229 West 43rd Street New York, N.Y. 10036 April 6, 2003 Dear N.K.O.T.B., All through the dark of night, I lurked by my local newsstand, half hidden by the milk crates and…

How to Get Rid of a Body Using Ordinary Household Objects

by James MacFarlane

O.K., we can chop him into eight or ten easy-to-manage parts using the kitchen Ginsu knives; we stuff each carryable body part into a pillowcase (dark-colored, so as to not reveal blood seeping through); tie each pillowcase to a broom…

Do Not Spindle or Mutilate

by Geoff Wolinetz

Forceps. I said, “Forceps.” Can’t you for once just be a good nurse and give me something when I ask for it? You’ve seen “ER,” right? You know how all of those pretend doctors get everything they need right away?…

Polish Fact

38,635,144 (2005 est.)

Learn a Foreign Tongue!

Impari L'Italiano
Wham, bam, grazie, signora.
Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.

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Monday, April 7, 2003   |    Fiction

… And the Horse You Rode in On

by Bobby Rufferto

Stinky Eddie, for stealing my lunch money, all those wedgies, and that time you dropped a mouse in my bookbag.

Becky Schwartz, for telling everyone about my “problem.”

Lou Gosset, Jr., for being a prick and cheating at poker.

Ms. Thomas, my high-school guidance counselor, for neither guiding nor counseling me, thus resulting in me living under the docks for three years.

Charles Schwab, for not properly explaining the pitfalls of the current market environment.

The nation of Uganda, for expelling me twice.

Christy Turlington, for leaving incriminating lipstick on my collar, and causing my girlfriend, Molly Simms, to leave me.

Jake, my gym trainer, for instilling false confidence, thereby allowing multiple ass-kickings which I probably deserved, but thought I was immune to. My medical bills are on you, buddy.

UPS, for delivering those ticking packages to my door.

Lou Gosset, again, for sending me those ticking packages via UPS.

My manhood, for failing me at all the wrong moments.

Dr. Cohen, for that whole “six weeks to live” scare.

Visa, MasterCard, Discover, American Express, and Diner’s Club, for all being such jerks with the fees and everything, even though I repeatedly explained that I only maxed out all my cards because I thought I had six weeks to live.

Sandy Duncan, for fooling me with the glass eye.

The New York Yankees, for thwarting my attempt to sign Cuban pitcher José Contreras.

Deepak Chopra, for everything.

Bobby Rufferto once broke his jaw on a Jawbreaker. Although it hurt incredibly, he is one to appreciate irony. He has not sued the confectioners. Do you think he should? He's conflicted: on the one hand, it hurt like hell; on the other, he now has a flip-top head which allows him to save money by buying a cheap, generic toothbrush instead of the pricey Reach toothbrush. Also, as a result, he can now entertain party guests by fitting a whole Magic 8-Ball into his mouth and shaking his head for your fortune. While we're on the subject, he did not particularly enjoy the movie Jawbreaker, but he sure digs that Rose McGowen. Oooh, she's naughty. Mr. Rufferto lives in New York, works in New Jersey, and teaches tango lessons in Iowa.