Eva Moe

Tag: satire

  • Boiling Frogs in The Kitchen

    There’s a new Animal Farm. One that’s bigger and better than all other Animal Farms you may have heard about. This one is in a big beautiful room called The Kitchen and today is soup day. The Claw Machines are all over the ceiling, whizzing about (it’s very exciting, nobody has Claw Machines like this, they’re the best in the world). They pick up a big batch of frogs and put them in a metal pot on the stove. Some frogs try to stop this, but those frogs are ugly. Don’t be ugly.

    There’s an old saying, “the frog doesn’t know it’s being boiled alive until it’s too late.” But that is a very stupid saying, and anyone who uses it is dumb and should die. That’s because all frogs know they’re being boiled alive. They like it! They really do, some of them even beg for it.

    “I don’t want to be soup today!” Ribbet cries. Ribbet’s always crying because he’s a loser.
    “You make everything about you,” Swatter says. She tells it like it is.
    “It’s terrible they put us in here,” Frog Leader sighs. He had another name before, but all frogs who are elected must change their name to Frog Leader and forget themselves.
    “But they’re just doing their jobs,” Swatter shrugs. Frog Leader agrees, reminding everyone it’s good for the economy.

    Ribbet hops around the pot, totally unaware of how many other frogs he’s splashing with hot water. “Maybe we could hop out and try to avoid certain death?” he suggests. Ribbet is very stupid and inconsiderate by the way, if it wasn’t clear already. He’s also a terrorist.
    “Don’t hop out!” Frog Leader yells. “That’s what they want! But more importantly, it’s illegal.”

    Ribbet is pretty sure the Claw Machines, or whoever controls them, do not want the frogs to jump out, and that’s why it’s illegal to do so. If they jump out, they might live. And you can’t live for your farm. You can only die for it. Living is unpatriotic.

    Swatter calms everyone with her impressive logic. She says it’s a lot cozier to be boiled alive than to risk a Claw Machine. They all spend the rest of the afternoon debating, until they stop talking altogether.

  • Art History

    Hello!
    Last week I reached my 50,000 word goal for the month of November! To anyone else who participated in National Novel Writing Month, congratulations! This year, I wrote 50k words of poetry. On Monday, I started reading through and revising.

    To be honest, most of it is garbage. But there’s a lot of stuff in there with potential. Such as:

    November 6
    Poem 9
    Here’s what I learned in Art History:
    A woman in a Renaissance painting has powdered white skin (no other color)
    and never farts
    or shits
    or vomits after too much wine.
    No one has to hold back her pompadour
    while she pukes up her servant-made supper into a golden chamber pot.
    She doesn’t do drugs or smoke.
    Her somber expression pouts at the painters.
    The world’s first selfies.

    Now, I don’t agree with the last line even though I wrote it. The argument can be made that the world’s first selfies were actually cave paintings and little sculptures done long before Renaissance painting was a thing. Anyway, I’ve got LOTS of editing to do.

    See you soon,
    Eva Moe

  • From the Journal: Angry rewrite of The Road Not Taken