There’s a crazy, Irish lady ringing my buzzer. I keep telling her to go away but she’s insistent on bringing me flyers for the new Irish pub opening down the street. But I’m not hungry. I’m working. I’m working on Land Ark Lit Mag issue #18, the glorious 18th, the Phil Jacksons and Johnny Damons of the world. Get out of here, you loopy, drunk, Irish restaurateur. I’ll be right over for a pint as soon as I’m done with my duties as editor. 

Which should be right abooouuuuuutttt. . . . . . . . now! New dating apps, minor league baseball players, cheese on the beach, drying your hands in a public restroom, fruits and vegetables, what else, what else, what else – I’m thirsty here for goodness sakes. I don’t know, enjoy the thing, lick it, give it to your favorite co-worker, bring it into school for show and tell, take it to a bar and buy it popcorn, an Irish bar, take this issue of LALM to an Irish bar, share some Guiness and some stewed cabbage, and if you refrain from getting too drunk then perhaps it would be responsible to fall in love with the waitress. Bye! Bye! Bye! I’m coming, Magatha! 

– Ed.

P.S. This is an open magazine. Please submit. Tell your creative friends and family members to submit. Being accepted to a literary magazine of this quality is an unforgettable thrill, better than most drugs available on the internet.