Daring to be noticed for the first time in her life, she pushed her chair back and stood up. She was 15, in a house full of her friends, and some 20 and 21-year-olds that were there for Ali's older sister. The hookah was on the table, the alcohol free-flowing, and she stood out to all the guys in the room. On;y 15, and they were already eyeing her. Zak, his younger brother, his best friend, and she was completely clueless. Kerri went upstairs to sleep around 2am and later found out she had been followed up to Ali's room...
I remember sitting there, minding my own business. The wind was a slightly moving napkins about the table. In frustration, I put my glass on the stack to keep it from dancing in the breeze.
As I sitting, waiting for Charles to arrive for our lunch, she walked by.
It was a fleeting moment, to say the least. But my slouched pose suddenly corrected itself. I was no longer concerned with the wind or its affect on napkins.
She was crossing the street, coming toward the cafe. She was wearing a red summer dress, and it being an August evening,...
Some people in masks of Guy Fawkes
Stood to protest Scientology's flocks
They wore them because
It gave them a buzz
And otherwise they'd get sued by those cocks
The results were in. I was going to have to gouge my eyeballs out with a tablespoon and then feed them to Guido, the hungry rhinosaurous on granddad's farm. If I didn't do that, my eyeballs would slowly seep down my face over the next three years. This had to be done.
I stuck the spoon in my eye. It made a sound like GLICK. Blood shot everywhere. My peripheral vision diminished by about 45 per cent. Then I stuck the spoon in my other eye. [NOTE: THE REST OF THIS STORY IS BEING TRANSCRIBED BY MY WIFE, BRENDA, SINCE...
The disco ball was turning, turning, spraying shimmering light across the hall. Anne's body lay beneath it in a sparkling pool of blood that was slowly soaking in to the carpet.
Her father remained at the top of the stairs, gun in hand.
"Damn," said Spencer, standing in the doorway. "You guys really know how to party!"
I am spinning out of control and I love it. I want to hear it break, to show them that I don't have to fit into their mold. I hurl the glass at the wall in front of me and it shatters, sending little, sparkling shards across the floor with a pretty, extremely satisfing tinkling sound. In a daze, I sit there and stare at the glass on the floor. My chest feels light and my head is spinning. I am free to be me. To live my own life, my own way. The can tell me where to live,...
When I see these flowers, and this man standing here (that's me, by the way), and I see all the men with guns walking behind me, I'm supposed to say that the flowers remind me of a lady. I'm supposed to taste the dust in my mouth, remember my comrades who gave their lives, understand the difference between pride and loyalty, duty and identity.
Mostly, I remember not knowing where I stood with any of these things; thinking that this was the process to figuring it out.
We're all figuring it out, aren't we? To know where you stand is...
We danced until the mimes came home. It was Halloween and the mimes owned the bank. They ate the bank because the bank was made of chocolate. There was no place to go. It was snowing.
So Jenny, my dance partner, grabbed one of the mimes and tore his stomach open. Blood and gore flew everywhere, but that wasn't important. What was important is that inside the mime's stomach was a warm motel where we could stay. The proprietor of the motel was Hulk Hogan. He rented us a room for $5 plus a bag of pretzels.
In the room...
The day after tomorrow, this will all be over. End of the world according to the Mayan predictions. It didn't seem worth sending out any Christmas cards this year and I also avoided presents. Saved all the money and had a holiday of a lifetime instead. I'm back home doing a countdown until the fateful moment. All my life I had been super organised, financially, personally, the household run like clockwork.
This year I gave it all up. Seemed pointless. Clutter and dust fill every room. Expenses unwritten, bills unpaid, I mean why bother if EVERYONE is going to die....
Kid Boxer's dad was an alcoholic and sometimes when he was liquored up enough, or liquored up in just the right way, he would bestow upon Kid Boxer his hard-won, deeply questionable wisdom. Towards the end, Kid Boxer's dad was drinking a lot, so the advice was coming fast and furious.
One thing Kid Boxer's dad liked to expound upon was the idea of going down swinging. "Fuck those pricks. No matter what, you have to go down swinging. Nobody can fault a man for trying, as long as he went down swinging." It was all pretty much like this,...