“Did you know this song is about heroin?” My friend Chris asked.
“Huh?” I said as I approached a stop sign.
We just left a party where my gay friend made out with a girl for the first time and I got vomited on.
Read More“Did you know this song is about heroin?” My friend Chris asked.
“Huh?” I said as I approached a stop sign.
We just left a party where my gay friend made out with a girl for the first time and I got vomited on.
Read More“I’ve got this bad habit.” I’m twisting the cold wine-glass stem around in circles, leaving marks on the tablecloth. “I can never finish sucking the mint. You know? I always crush it in my teeth.”
The man looks at me through wire-rimmed glasses, a bit of goo in the corner of his brown eye.
I signed up with a temp agency because contributor copies won’t pay the bills. At the time, I was already moonlighting as a scarecrow, but my wife was sick of shucking corn and boiling water, so I took a job throwing fireballs at the sun. The gig didn’t last long, just a few weeks and then a few more hours after those few weeks.
Read MoreWhile we embraced I wished that we had somehow missed the news alert on our phones revealing to us that nuclear war had broken out.
Read More“First describe the eye; then show how the twinkling of a star is really in the eye and why one star should twinkle more than another, and how the rays from the stars originate in the eye.” The eye is a shelled, uncooked egg in a bowl of bone. It slops and sighs and rues its lack of development. Even in its most sanguine moments it lacks the verve of a muscle.
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