George's house was a hubcap magnet. Hubcaps came weekly, flying through the air at his windows or car or yard like some sort of kamikaze attack. He didn't know why this was, it just was.
First he attempted to board his windows up. This left him with shards of broken wood and slightly bent hubcaps. Eventually he settled on iron shutters. He felt a bit like a drug lord huddling in his iron plated house. Only it was more like a drug lord who frequently wore red converse sneakers and chinos.
It wasn't as if he lived in a high...
You can count me out.
That was what he had said as he had stormed off.
It wasn't as though the plan had been so ridiculous. It would just have been time consuming and time was the one thing he did not have in abundace.
He still had to write his paper, read five chapters worth of background material, prepare his meal chart for the week and continue training for the marathon.
No, he did certainly did not have time to mess around by climbing flagpoles and pulling practical jokes.
Just like he hadn't had time to go out with...
I felt a dim glow of satisfaction deep within my soul as the night turned into day. My dreams of before, now a reality. There was nothing I wanted...
But one thing... The one thing I couldn't have.
I believe in miricles as they happen every day around me, birth, growth, laugther and joy. I pray for a miricle now, even. Guide him, save her. I can hardley get everyones name into the list sometimes as the hours pass by.
But there is one name that stands out like a black print on a white paper. A name that still...
The argument over the preferred pronunciation of "Pax Romana" bloomed into a bloody fistfight, not that it was terrifically violent so much as the pugilists were notorious bleeders. The patch of snow on which they sparred began to resemble the flag of Japan as arms unfurled, elbows snapped back, and fists clenched so tight, thumbs overlapped knuckles.
Inside, my kung pow shrimp cooled under the air vent.
Nothing is more terrifyingly beautiful than the intensity of a woman's Stare.
Not a gaze or a glace, but a Stare. One that lasts longer than a couple
seconds but no longer than a minute. The kind that cuts its way through
you, making you feel more- and at the same time, less- secure in your
strength as a man.
The idea is to create a false memory. Get a pretty model, blur the edges, overexpose the film. You can also create that overexposure effect digitally. Have her smiling, playing. Give her something that evokes childhood. Red balloon. No, we don't want to be cliche. Green balloon. And make sure there's an overriding color scheme. Green. We don't see a background - nothing but light on the horizon. This is memory, and memory is supposed to consist of overreliance on symbols, strong images, single focal points. That was the summer when...
We hire the model. She's angry and unhappy the...
The wind is picking up outside. It's unsesnoabley warm. The announcer on the television rattles off a list of counties that are under the warning. Leaves scuttle along the patio outside the window. There is no fear, just curiosity, a little confusion. People step outside to gander at the sky. The voice on the tube implores us to take cover, yet we continue to look out the windows. Thunder rumbles in the distance. People sit on the swing set, passing cigarettes and smiling. It is always calmest, right at this
The lone zombie shambled toward the clubhouse, where we watched, armed with nine irons and pitching wedges. I turned to Adam and said, "Par three, buddy."
"You're on, Sev," Adam replied, and grabbed a bucket of balls, ran out to the porch, and teed up.
His swing was a bit off, and he hooked it, but the ball stayed on the fairway. Not bad, considering the threat of gruesome zombie death that potentially loomed.
"Okay, this time I got him!" Adam shouted, and teed up another ball.
This time, his shot was picture-perfect, and the ball whizzed through the air,...
The year was 1986. She was five and happy. But she did not want to be six. There was something about six that scared her, put her on edge, made her think of grown up things like losing teeth and moving up to the next class with the mean teacher who didn’t allow her pupils to laugh during lessons.
So she came up with a plan to hide. She took her favourite toys (she was five, after all) and a little food and a carton of juice and crawled into the loft where no one ever went. There was nothing...
One day, in the morning, not the afternoon, I was eating cheese. When I finished my block of cheese I noticed that there was an interesting amount of wind outside and I thought to myself, "Self, let us harness this power." So as I wrote down my many ideas of how to harness the power, one sprang out off of the paper and said "Use me!". It was my idea to harness wind with wind. I decided to blow up 6 balloons, 3 pink, 3 purple. I would travel the world, literally wherever the wind took me, because, if you...