The Furious Gazelle

Literary as hell.

Month: November 2013

Pass the Latke stuffed Turkey! A Guide to Surviving Thanksgivukkah

With Thanksgivukkah almost upon us we at the Gazelle would like to offer explanation and guidance:

Usually, Thanksgivukkah is not a word. If that’s news to you, well that’s just silly and you should educate yourself. Read on and share in a learning experience. Typically, Hanukkah and Thanksgiving have little to do with each other. One means a day off from school, or work, or whatever, and a chance to stuff yourself with pie. The other means no day off, and a lot of goyim asking you about the real Meaning of Hanukkah (which Jon Stewart’s “Can I Interest You In Hanukkah?” pretty well sums up).

BUT: this Thanksgiving an amazing crossover event is set to occur. And here’s how you can deal with the mishegas:

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Holiday Submissions

Hello!

Remember, last month, how it was October and we were taking Halloween submissions? Well now it’s November and we are taking holiday themed submissions through December! January will be bleak.

You can win the glory of the Internet by sending us your holiday writing and art. What makes you feel warm and fuzzy? What do you hate about the holidays? Love? Celebrate? Ignore?

Tell us and we might be less furious.

-The Editors

Thanksgiving Flash Fiction by Jacob Shelton

Noon, November 24th by Jacob Shelton

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Snow + Fog

snow___fog_by_eszk-d5whs97

from: http://eszk.tumblr.com/

Kid Silver, Chapter One by Matthew H. Jones

Art by Erica Holuboff

ehart

 

 

Erica Holuboff is a Brooklyn based artist. You can see more of her work at: http://ericaholuboff.com/home.html

The Rescue Fish by Phyllis Wrynn

“Lights Out” by Mauricio Castillo

“Wait, punch out, c’mon, punch out!”
I hear the referee’s words faintly as I try to sneak in an uppercut that’s probably illegal but what the ref don’t see, don’t happen. “The Shark” finally shoves me off and as I jump back, I feel the blood running down my cheek again. I thought it had stopped bleeding, damn. The cut is deeper than I figured it was. It had come from a wicked right-cross in the fourth round that glanced over my left eyebrow and opened up some old scar tissue. Coach told me to keep my hand up, but I guess I just got a little cocky. We all get a little cocky sometimes. Somehow we always end up paying for it, too. Ever since then it’s been an uphill battle. I know I won Rounds 1 and 2, but I’m in this asshole’s backyard. Chances are the rounds are closer than I believe them to be.
“Oh! Time! Go to your corners.” Continue reading

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