...and the walrus said to the jellyfish, "but see, I have tasks, so I can accomplish far more than you can, you spineless twit." And the jellyfish replied back, "that may be true, but I am far more viscous than you will ever be!"
And thus the walrus and the jellyfish commenced forth with their plan of under-sea domination by overthrowing king Neptune with their vast army of rabid seahorses. It was a long battle and many comrades were lost, but in the end, peace and order had been returned to the likes of the ocean.
Until one day when...
Blue open windows,
training wheels on the driveway,
Papa let me fly.
Afternoon bubbles,
wedding bells for fireflies,
the laughter echoes.
Saturday mornings,
the rain never goes away,
I'll always love you.
No swimmers.
No DNA-laden tadpoles.
No way that the child was mine.
If you asked me 10-years ago if I could ever imagine myself sitting in a doctor's office waiting for my sperm count to arrive, I would have told you to fuck off. Or maybe piss off, since I hadn't lived enough life 10-years ago to cuss appropriately.
Yet, here I was. My soon to be ex-wife was pregnant. She didn't know if was my child or the child of the irish man she ran off with 2-months prior. Apparently, that surgery I survived only guarantees 99.995% success. But...
He stood outside the castle, looking in. That little fence was all that separated him from the world of imagination. For the castle was filled with magic, with kings and queens. If only he could get inside, and experience that magic for himself.
When he got older, he'd realize that there was no such thing in the castle. The outside was a beautiful facade to entertain the children, but the inside was used as a storage room.
"Send it back," he said, his mouth shaped like a cruel stink.
"Why, whatsa matter with it?" I laughed.
"It's not a twist, that's a wedge. I didn't ask for a goddamn wedge. This is not an ice tea."
The busboy removed the drink, soon replacing it with another.
"Are you goddamn kidding me? This is the same thing. Do you know what a twist is?"
"Yeah," said the busboy, "it's what my fate has suddenly taken."
And he drank it down. Wedge and all.
Do you want to hear about it, she asked. The doors slid shut.
I couldn't say.
There was the first ding.
No, I said. Not really.
I want to tell you about it, she said.
The second ding.
She stood next to the panel. I leaned back against the opposite corner. No others at this time of night, in this elevator, in this place.
Fine, I said. Tell me about it.
It was warm. We in our winter coats, too warm, as far as we could get away from each other in our opposite corners of the elevator.
The third...
"This is your fault," his wife said to him. If you would just put your mother in her place I wouldn't have to and we wouldn't be fighting right now.
He replied loudly, "My fault? How is it my fault she's nosy? She doesn't mean anything by it anyway. You don't have to be such a bitch about every little thing."
"Oh. My. God. Seriously?" She was on a roll now. "It's your fault she's so nosy because you never say anything at all to her when she crosses a line. And once again, I wouldn't have to be such...
That night everything changed. She would never think of the stars in the same way. Or the grass, or the flowers. In five minutes her whole perception of the world changed. She could acknowledge that the thoughts running through her head at that moment were not what she would have imagned she would be thinking in a scenario such as this. Her thoughts were clear and concise. Practical almost. She blinked. It hurt. A seering pain shot from her left eye through (what it felt like anyway) her brain. She tried turn her head to the left where she knew...
I'm in love with a robot, thats all there is to it. When his parents tell him how to live his life, where to go to college, where to work, even when to go on dates, he just goes along with it. He makes me so upset sometimes. I know that he has brilliant ideas and knows exactly what he wants to do with his life, and yet he lets others decide everything for him. If only he would stand up for himself. I know who he really is. He is wonderfully funny, incredibly smart, and full of ambition. But...
As he wandered through the countryside, he couldn't quite believe he'd done it. He'd done it. Gene Black had actually done it. Finally. And although it had been something he had been planning for months, years, maybe his whole life, he didn't feel quite as good as he thought he would.
He had dreamed of being a murderer for as long as he could remember. He had wanted to feel life draining away in his hands, to watch as the soul departed the body. If it did. It was all about experimentation and, perhaps understandably, there was nothing he could...