Literary Stylings

“Queries”

by Jason Half-Pillow

Hi Guys!

I am writing an epic poem detailing an intergalactic battle for supremacy between Emperors from the only two known planetary systems where the beings living there look like giant dongs with balls for feet.   Do you require that the dialogue be written with quotation marks?

One penis shaped Emperor is loosely based on Constantine, Emperor of the Eastern Half of the Roman Empire.  The other is based more firmly on Theodoric the Great, an Ostrogoth, a short-lived barbarian oppressor of what as left of the West.   Readers will not need to know the actual history to get something from the story, but if they do, it is sure to be a mind- altering experience.  My hope is that you publish along side my work a non-fiction piece on the split of the Roman Empire.  I am assuming most readers know what a penis looks like.  If they don’t, they would be lost.

Dear Contributor,

We look forward to reading your work.

Sirs and Ladies,

I do a lot of volunteer work in Kenya  – water filtration system building and hut repair and the like.  I am wondering if I may submit my work by banging it out on a war drum while wearing a bone through my nose? I will bang it out without the bone, if you are willing to go by the honor system. There’s no Wi-Fi here.  I am Maltese.  I thought I was in the east relative to even Italy, let alone France.  But here in Kenya, I know I’m from the west.   They seem to communicate only by drumming.

Dear Writer,

Thank you for contributing your work.  You should hear back from us in 3-6 months.  In the meantime, consider subscribing to our new online journal and help us Go Green!

Editor,

I have written a story about the interpersonal conflicts of a pair of Siamese Testicles.  Other journals have turned it down for somehow being pro-Imperialist.  I submit it to you with the caveat that I am willing to call them Burmese Testicles.  I have not done so yet because I think any marginally geographically literate reader would assume that the main characters were just two nuts inside a Burmese guy’s ball sack. It is not.  It is about a pair of balls that are almost completely connected.  All told, there are four balls, one set in each sack.  Writing this, I am beginning to understand the confusion of the story’s previous readers. I also now realize that Siam is now Thailand.

I live in London, which is part of the west.  Siam is in the east, or was.  Now it’s Thailand.  I thought I would tell you that.  Strange, but, while we’re on the topic, isn’t it weird how Sri Lanka is in the South if you’re from India, which is in the east.  The same is true of Baja California if you’re from California, which is in the west.  I guess that’s kind of true no matter where you’re from.

Anyway – two sacks of Siamese ball twins. Think about it.

Dear Writer,

We are always interested in the work of new and established writers. Thank you for your submission.  You may check your submission by logging into your account.  Please do not direct inquiries about forgotten passwords to our editorial staff.  Due to a recent deluge of such inquiries any such emails will be deleted along with any response given.

White man,

I am an Indian living in a trailer and smoke a lot of bong hits in the rusty, door less car kind of in our back yard – it’s hard to tell where ours starts and Jane Bearshit’s begins.  I am writing a memoir that teaches you white people that a lot of us teenage Indian boys are just like you and spend countless hours in thrice daily beat of sessions to porn we watch on our Iphones, though you don’t do it as often as we do in rusty cars on rusty wheels in contested territory between two tin roofed houses.  This query has been turned down by many white lesbians.  They are racists.  I hope being from New Mexico won’t stand in the way of you east coasters printing my shit.

Dear Mr. Wall Mart Burning,

Thank you for your input.  Our technical staff has been alerted to the web site problem you identified, and we hope to have it resolved soon so that you may make your submission and we get a chance to read your work!

Assholes,

Here’s my preliminary list of Great American Literature porno’s:

The Schlarfin Chronicles by Spray Bradbury

Meat of Steven by John Steindick

The Great Gaspy by F. Cock Spurtzgerald

The Adventures of Fuckleberry Hen (with illustrations) by Dick Twain

For Whom My Balls Toll by Ernest Hemingspray

The Scarlett Cockhead by Nathaniel Hawthporn

Moby’s Dick by Sperman Melville

The Collected Short Jerks of Raymond Carver

As I lay Mai Ling by William Fuckner and/or Amy Tan

Seize the Wang by Saul Jewboy

The Colored Purple Headed Warrior by Alice Cocker

The Bluest Ball by Toni Whorehisson

I worked very hard on this list and would appreciate you giving each entry a good mulling over before just rejecting it out of hand.  I am still very hard, so I’m going to try sticking my dick in a bucket of ice water.  Oh that reminds me,

The Iceman Cometh by Spewgene blOw’Kneel.

I have only included work from the westernmost country of the western canon.  Eastern work is inherently pornographic and British stuff like Ivanhoe writes itself.

Dear Writer,

Your contribution has been received. We look forward to reading your work!

Fellow Artists,

I am writing a surreal piece set in a Santa Barbara bar where flat-headed dwarf women stand as tables to hold customers’ drinks.  Since flat-headed dwarves don’t exist, this story cannot be deemed hateful to any actual group of people; but I’m also going to have all the waitresses be topless Filipinos with huge tits.  I am figuring that’s okay because that’s not a stereotype.  It is hard not to imagine the flat–headed dwarves looking a little like the birds you find sitting atop totem polls.

Dear Writer,

Thank you for your query.  Writers sometimes don’t read the fine print in our submission guidelines, so if you are not Queer or Transgender, please withdraw your submission and wait for our heterosexual query period which begins Dec. 1.  You will have a month to submit your entry.

Dear Editor of Epistolary,

Attached is a loosely autobiographical story about the legal struggles of a college sophomore to be allowed to count his cock as a roommate for purposes of assigning dorm mates.  He really just wants to get rid of the suicidal sniveling viola-ist with whom he bunks.  There is a lot of amusing back and forth between the boy and various vice-provosts and ombudsmen of all sorts, and, of course, the story is rich in penile synonyms.  I know writers are not supposed to explain their work, but I do need to address a potential, and likely, objection – namely that the character could just pay more and get a single.  Well, he doesn’t want to pay more and can’t really afford it.  That’s why he came up with his whole “count my cock as a roomie” ploy.

I am from the West Coast but attended an elite, east coast, four-year liberal arts school. I set this tale in Ohio so as to hide my true identity.  Hence the nom de plume also – Juan Buckwheat.