First communion with the devil that is my Daddy. In order to understand, you've got to start at the end and look back over your shoulder into the madness with a mirror, handheld and cracked.
My tombstone reads "murdered" and my family is convinced that is the truth but the truth reads like one novel to some and a short story to others and the weather girl reads it yet again a different way. It was Christmastime in Savannah and he was drunk again, or still, as it were, and there was the gun and then the fight spilled out...
'So, what makes you think it is going to flood around here?'
The truck driver chewed gum as he unloaded the bags of cement and several stacks of bricks.
'It's always best to be prepared,' I said, helping to manhandle one of the bags towards the area where my cement mixer stood waiting.
'You got planning permission to build this?' asked the driver, seemingly surprised that I could build this tall concrete construction on the suburban hillside, surrounded as it was with low lying bungalows, elegant lawns and neat gravel drives.
'Not really,' I said, taking out my cheque book...
"Wait, so he hit you?" Beneath Sean's cool demeanor, rage had begun to bubble over. I fingered the bruise throbbing beneath the skin of my cheek. "Uh-huh." His eyes narrowed. I placed one hand on his arm. "Relax. It's done." i soothed, but there was no suppressing his rage; even i knew that. It was like putting mentos into a coke bottle and shaking it. eventually, it would explode. he kissed my bruise, gently, just a little brush. "I'll be back." he promised. I tightened my fingers on his arm. "Please, don't go looking for him. it'll justs make things...
He pounded his head on the wall to the rhythm of the heavy bass. Boom Boom Boom Boom Boom.
He'd attempted diplomacy already. Repeated knocks on the door had gone unanswered. No wonder: they probably assumed it was the music.
He'd attempted passive-aggressively turning his own music up to the max. Some good that does on a MacBook.
Nor did calling the neighbors help. The RA he'd summoned had joined the party.
3am on a Tuesday morning, in finals week. Deridda wasn't getting any easier. What would Deridda do? Hey thought. WWDD. Which was about the sound his forehead made...
I am breathless. My heart is in my stomach and pounding around like an indoor hockey match. Staring deep into the eye of my accuser I beg: "mercy!"
The clock ticks furiously past the minutes. One, two, suddenly five have passed and I am sure to pass out from the sheer weight of the moment.
Does Miranda find true love in those five minutes?
Oh curse you fickle fate, you demon of home electronics and urban sitcom.
My bladder yearns at attention but suppress its screams I must; the DVR needs repairing. The show must go on.
In streams and,...
I'll miss the way the breeze would blow hair into his eyes, and the way I would brush it away, asking him when he was getting it cut, even though I knew he never would.
I'll miss the way the sun would warm the tops of my breasts when he lifted my shirt over my head, and the way his day-old stubble both hurt and excited me when he bent to suck one nipple, then the other, into his mouth.
I'll miss the way the dried grass felt beneath my bare back when he laid me down and pressed himself...
It was the fall that surprised me most.
I had never intended to move to the Northeast. Strange set of circumstances. Long story. Really long. Maybe not too long to relate, but longer than I'd like it to have. I just sort of ended up there.
Anyway, I got there in early December. I thought, having come from California, that that was "winter".
That's not winter.
Winter is bleak. Winter is white death. Winter is hell -- not just for Chekhov, mind you. For Vermont, too.
The first week I was there, I was talking about how poorly-equipped Southern California...
He ran into the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet. One of the Abel Security Volunteers, Daniel, brought up the rear.
"Peter has been trying to leave the compound again, Major."
"It's Luke. My neighb… my… friend. He's still alive." the boy interrupted. "A runner on rofflenet posted evidence of looting in Mr. Grant's, a shop near where we used to live."
The major pulled out a map. After a brief inspection Peter pointed to one of the orange 'No Go' areas. The Major considered the chart doubtfully.
"There are two or three old supermarkets in the...
The first time I saw Tommy, I knew he was a total douche. I don't allow my sister to date douches; shit — no brother should. That's rule number 2.
Rule number 1, in case you are wondering, is that you don't interfere with your sister's romances. But I take exception with douches.
Of course, there's a perfectly civil way to address his low-life status without resorting to a politically un-savvy term like "douche," which can alienate the polite, women, and my parents equally well, but anyone who knows me will say there ain't a bone of misogyny in this...
"I know what you're after," growled the doctor, gripping her clipboard like it bestowed her the authority of the Pope with his Holy Bible. "All of a sudden it's 'oh, my back aches!', 'Doc, I've got migraines!'
"Migraines. Ha," she sneered. "And you!"-- Possessed white finger shivering in the direction of the wrinkled face before her -- "You think CANCER will get you your hands on that stuff? You're nothing but a common criminal. A druggee. Shame."
I yanked Grandma out of the chair. We'll seek her medical marijuan