Cait Maloney

Cait Maloney was a breech baby raised by monkeys and ordained at an early age with a passion for carbohydrates and visual communication. She now spends her days doing a job she loves and sweating to death in Columbia, SC.

Her work has been used for books, magazines, websites, technical/conceptual drawings, logos, marketing/advertising, signs, posters, packaging, apparel, portraits, album art, tattoos, and has also been featured in several art exhibitions.

Some of Cait Maloney’s clients include Diesel Fragrance, PGA Junior League Golf, TD Bank, Designers Against Child Slavery, and NY Spirit Magazine/The Park Slope Reader.

Until age 24 she thought that the crust really was the healthiest part of the bread. She tries to match her underwear every day. She doesn’t believe in dishwashers for in-home use. And she can’t burp voluntarily… or whistle.

Check out her work at

Stories illustrated by Cait Maloney

Lawyers, Car Dealers, and other Whores

Written by Gary Ives

“Stop clenching your jaw. Don’t grind your teeth, my dear,” Brantley snapped. “Screw you, Brantley. You’re my divorce lawyer not my orthodontist.” “Quite right, my dear Lola, and as such I am bound by oath to advise. Clenching one’s jaw and grinding one’s teeth is bad form in open court. It shows a want of control and …

Different Worlds

Written by A.A. Trivedi

He lived in the sea, and I on land. When he ventured into my world I always knew he was different. He didn’t mention that he was merely a tourist where I dwelled. His cool skin tone matched his demeanor and as I got to know him, I looked upon his quirky nature to be …

Godfrey Give Me

Written by Karl MacDermott

Addiction is a terrible thing. I knew all about it when I was eight. That was when I developed my bizarre and unhealthy communion wafer dependency. I had my first communion on the day of my First Communion. Maybe it was the connection between being dressed up in an expensive new outfit and lavished with all …

Dollar Store

Written by Carl ‘Papa’ Palmer

“Think! Hurry! Concentrate! Something’s got to be here that will save me! Where? What? I need to act NOW!” It couldn’t have been but 15 or 20 minutes ago when I left my motel over by those apartments down the street. I’d been driving most straight through on I-5, up from Travis Air Force Base in …

The Ants Go Marching Two by Two

Written by Jim Harrington

Abigail lay on the ground, grass tickling her nose, as the ants paraded by on the walking path. Her mom didn’t notice them. Her mom never noticed anything. She was too busy talking on the phone about parties, or somebody having an affair — whatever that was — or other things. Abigail didn’t listen anymore. …

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