Selling (plural noun) over the phone, the telemarketer reads from an assigned (adjective) script, so whether it’s you, the (noun) filling in this mad lib, or hi...
“Do you struggle with predicting the future?” a production assistant says from behind the camera, reading me in. The deck of tarot cards sitting in front of me ...
The humidity of summer vacation filled our lungs like water balloons, so my friends and I decided to cool off with a flick, Cowboys & Aliens. When the credi...
My work buddy Jake cried last night after watching a Doritos commercial. In the commercial, an anthropomorphic Dorito’s spiciness burns down a whole Dorito neig...
I try not to clear my throat in public, but accidents happen. It was winter. I had a cold. I stifled the bodily noise with my palm, but a guy a table away still...
Becky and I got into a fight. Then I died. At least I think I’m dead. A minute or so ago, a sedan swerved onto the sidewalk, smashing into my hip. I heard a squ...
Yesterday was high school summer vacation, green and empty of responsibility. Yesterday I pushed a grape Jolly Rancher from cheek to cheek. Yesterday I sorted m...
Will Musgrove is a writer and journalist from Northwest Iowa. He received an MFA from Minnesota State University, Mankato. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Florida Review, Wigleaf, Pinch, The Cincinnati Review, The Forge, Passages North, Tampa Review, and elsewhere. Connect on Bluesky at @willmusgrove.bsky.social or at williammusgrove.com.