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...
The sun brushed against the back of her neck as she walked towards the corral. Her hands fidgeted with the rope, looping it and unlooping it, her fingers running along the rough hemp braids, pausing at the bands of electrical tape marking hand holds.
Gus held his hand out to help her up onto the fence as she reached the edge of the corral, a smile splitting his tanned face. "You ready?" he asked, his voice a hoarse rasp.
She nodded as she reached the top of the fence. Inside the corral, her horse stood saddled, its side pressing against...
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...
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...
She didn't look at him.
Instead, she stared out of the window, quivering as though she would cry at any second.
"Bev?" Steven called out tentatively.
She shook her head, still not looking at him. All Steven wanted was for her to look at him. Her gorgeous green stare always made him breathless. She always made him happy.
But now? He screwed up.
"Beverly, c'mon. Say something."
She stared out of her window as though he weren't even there. He walked closer and reached out to touch her shoulder. "Beverly-"
Jerking back violently, she twisted his direction and snarled, "Don't....
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...
"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?...
We had our pet unicorn stuffed today. Oh people will tell you it's odd to stuff your family pet. A bit grim. A bit strange.
My aunt Gemma said we'd turn up on one of those hoarding shows, pointing out the rows of stuffed cats and rabbits to the audience.
I don't think it's so strange. Captain Bluebell gave us years of enjoyment. I remember when we first got him. The way he couldn't quite walk yet. He wobbled around, smashing all of the china we kept on pedestals. I don't remember why we kept over a dozen vases on...
I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "there'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead.
I'm not truly Welsh of course, being that my Great Grandfather's Mother's second husband was from Scotland. A secret shame that the Family has bourn quite well, considering. When questioned over my flame coloured Ginger hair, relatives successfully hinted at the local milk delivery representative as explanation. An obvious solution, except for the fact that her hair was clearly and obviously dyed, but there you go.
So, our family are what Cwm-yn-Canu locals would call "incomers", not...
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.