I'm Theo. You might remember me. I had a guest role in several 80's sitcoms. Thigns jus didn't work out for me, I guess.
I got married at one point in my career, but that didn't work out either. I still keep in touch with my Mother-In-Law, though.
Last week, she invited me over to dinner. She doesn't seem to be doing so well herself. Turns out, she'd only invited me over in a vindictive mood about my divorce from her daughter. She came at me with a knife at one point.
Well, I wrestled the knife away from her...
He does not even see him. My goodness, quit taking pictures of me and turn around you moron. The hyena is laying low to the ground, covered by the brush, unless you look at him head on.
The hyena is inching closer to the human, who of course, is facing me. I need to get over there quickly.
My back condenses, and loads like a spring. SNAP. I am the fastest land animal. I should be able to get there in time.
I am off, and this feeling never gets old. The brush is tall, but not tall enough to...
afraid I can't follow the prompt
it's entirely outside my area of expertise
guess I could make it all up
but that's not my thing today
thought I would be writing truth
and deep strongly held beliefs
but the prompt about news reporters
and grabbing for glory
doesn't sound like my kind of story
glad for the time limit
as it ticks away I think
at least I will not be verbose
and yet there is something
I really wanted to say about
praying for peace and going to war
and fighting terror with terror
that niggles at my gut...
Elsie, her name was Elsie. She was a big lass. Big arms. 'Big boned' my mum had called her, 'a rough sort', she'd said, 'stay away from her, she's trouble', she'd said. But I never listened to my mum.
I decided from the word go that I wanted to be in Elsie's gang. When I crept up to her side and said
'lo Else, can I be in your gang then?' she'd blown a big bubblegum bubble which popped right in front of my face and sneered
'you'll have to go through 'tha 'nititation beanpole'
Beanpole. I already had a...
I usually feel it when the leaves start to fall, when the sky drains of color, when the air grows chilly and listlessly stirs the dead leaves on the sidewalk. I can feel part of my brain start to shut down, as it has done year after year, about this time, when the leaves start to fall. They tell me it is chemical, but that can't explain the piercing of my heart, the emotional pain that causes me to shudder as fear and sadness begin to grow in my chest. And I can't stand to look another human in the...
We almost died on the way to Guayaquil. I think we would have been more worried if there hadn't been a near-accident. Back in San Juan, we showed off our dismissive gazes and new fedoras to anyone who condescended to notice. We are the hip. We are the elite. Our Che shirts are the only ironic Che shirts south of Belize. We are sexy Ecuadorean hipsters. Fear us.
"I hate him. He could get hit by a car randomly in the street, and it wouldn't matter to me. It would probably make my days better."
Anyway, it happened. It would. And so then the whole school was plunged into mourning of varying depths. Mourning of the grievous type, and mourning of the more celebratory kind.
Let's be honest. He made everyone's life miserable. He never bothered to even sit. His room was the hallway, not a desk.
The administrator who suspended him that day couldn't stop questioning himself: could I have done more? Should I have done it?...
I was stealthy. I knew my prey was crafty, so I prepared. Night vision goggles, sniper rifle, grenades just in case. I was stalking the elusive Reindeer through the forests of the Northwest.
Oh, but he was a crafty one, indeed.
He doubled back on me. I barely saw him coming. Who knew reindeers could fly? This one was wearing a blue cape, and its nose was glowing bright red.
I should have seen it coming. He ambushed me.
Then I saw the man himself. Santa. I thought he was made up. He'd been behind the ambush the entire time....
Meteorites struck a Russian town today. I wondered what I'd be thinking if they hit the place I live. Probably not worrying about my hair as I am today. Nor whether to meet up with the unsuitable man that I know I shouldn't ever see again. Nor would I procrastinate yet again over finishing paperwork and chores. None of that would matter. Only survival. Family. Are they ok? None of the mindless timewasting unimportant trivia we are all obsessed with would even cross our minds in that situation.
It reminds me of the time I was stuck underground in an...
I'm dead. Really dead. Not the "There'll be a twist in the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead.
I keep thinking back to how I died.
I don't remember how I died really. I think I fell.
Are you suppose to remember how you die? Or is that weird?
Is there some sort of weird rule of death that you can't remember how you die?
I feel like I can walk everywhere and find no one. Death is strangely lonely and empty. Am I the only one here?
I wish I could tell you what it...