Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen

Archive for September, 2015|Monthly archive page


In Uncategorized on September 23, 2015 at 5:33 pm

adding machine

Jeff     Lila?

Lila     Yes, Jeff.

Jeff     I don’t think we’re going to be able to make the house payment this week.

Lila     Why not? Didn’t you get that rapid refund thing at your uncle’s tax place?            

Jeff     Yes I did.  We only got $300.

Lila     $300?  We were supposed to get nearly a $1200 refund.  How the fuck are we going to pay   these bills?

Jeff     You told me to get our taxes done there.

Lila     Uncle Louie never liked you.  Maybe I can get the $900 back from him.

Jeff     Your uncle, your bookie mobbed-up uncle runs that tax place.  No wonder he has that mansion in Great Neck.

Lila     I didn’t think he would rip off his own niece, or maybe he’s hiding the money for me.

Jeff     You have a fucked up family Lila.  For all I know your uncle’s creditors could be buried in the basement.

Lila     No, they’re buried in East New York.

Jeff     Normal people don’t bury their enemies – at least not literally bury them.

Lila     You think I like having them for family?  But a normal guy like you is just as warped        as them.

Jeff     I’m warped?!?  I work.  I try to pay bills. I don’t go out anymore thanks to you.  I don’t drink any more thanks to you.  I used to have no problem getting dates, getting laid, I gave all that up for you and you repay me by using your uncle to extort my hard earned money, money that puts a roof over your head.

Lila     I didn’t ask him to take $900.

Jeff     How can I believe anything any of you or your family says anymore?

Lila     OK Jeff, I’m an evil masochistic bitch who seriously loathes you.  Is that what you fucking want to hear from me?

Jeff     The truth would be nice.

Lila     Maybe the truth is that I’m sorry I ever met you.  I’m sorry I don’t have a Tommy gun in the basement.

Jeff     I’m sorry I don’t have any rope to hang you with.    

Lila     Shouldn’t you string up my uncle first?

Jeff     I’d like to string up that young prick who gave me the $300 check.

Lila     Jeff, my uncle is the only one in that office who signs or gives out the checks for   that place.

Jeff     Is he one of your cousins?  5 foot ten, slicked back black hair, wannabe Jersey Shore         guido?

Lila     I don’t have a cousin like that, Jeff.  Uncle Louie hates that fucking Jersey Shore show.  He even threatened to nuke Seaside Heights.  Are you sure you went to Louie’s tax service?   Are you sure you were at the Sicilian Tax Service at Avenue Y and 18th street?

Jeff     Yes, 1701 Avenue Y across from Stop and Shop.

Lila     Uncle Louie’s is at 1703 Avenue Y.

Jeff     That would explain the Cyrillic writing for a Sicilian tax place!

Lila     You asshole, you went to Uncle Louie’s rival’s tax place.

Jeff     These Mafioso schmucks run lookalike businesses next to each other?

Lila     Worse…they’re his Russian mafia rivals.

Jeff     So we got screwed by your uncle’s rival?

Lila     Yes, you moron!  Now I have to ask an uncle who despises you for money that his rival conned out of you.  And, those moron’s now have our address, phone and everything legit about us.

-Thomas Clarke



In Uncategorized on September 18, 2015 at 5:20 pm


Shards scattered;                                                                                                                                                    More densely clustered about the epicenter, but even those far flung gems glisten wet. I hesitate to add more of my own spattering to the scene, as one half-shredded sneaker now streaked, lay askew several feet from its partner, which remains with me. That distant one, bloodied with the memento it has snatched. Sudden realization of my second loss fills me with grief. My chest expands to aching that will not be released lest some actual puncturing be performed. A pin to my lung? A tar-top cardioectomy? Only some such wrenching could take my mind off what I know lays at the horizon of my sight. It was only this same drizzle, now pattering my face that helped to turn autumn leaves to pulp beneath the bus wheels. Slick pulp that brought the mammoth down, and left him battered on his side. Only now do I smell the pungent yet intoxicating odor of grilled meat, while unburned diesel wafts its own heady fragrance. The fumes force me to crane my neck, and point my eyes to that dreaded horizon. The searing smell and enveloping heat reach me at just that instant as I watch her already lifeless form, flopped through the window, become engulfed. I allow the rubber-band to break, as my head hangs heavily, and my eyes now gaze upon kaleidoscope flickers in the shards.

-Stephanie Lawel

Writers’ Workshop Fall 2015

In Uncategorized on September 11, 2015 at 3:55 pm

anthologiesWe’re excited to begin the fall session of our Writers’ Workshop this Thursday, September 17th from 1:30 to 3:30. This session will run for 12 weeks with three instructors: Yvonne Cassidy, Brooke Weise and Hannah Albee. We look forward to working with you toward finished poems, stories, essays and plays that could be published in our annual anthology.

All are welcome: guests, volunteers, and anybody in the community who has an interest in developing their voice with a group of encouraging writers. We’re looking forward to seeing new faces and those who’ve written with us before.

While we welcome anyone, it helps to plan the session if we can hear from you first and let us know you’d like to join us! To sign up or for more information, please email Brooke, Yvonne or Hannah at:


Happy Writing!
– Brooke, Yvonne and Hannah