I've never liked nature. I never saw the point. I've got a perfectly comfortable bed, a nice kitchen, television, the Internet, you name it. Nature has bugs, extreme temperatures, all kinds of dangers and obstacles. That's why humans built civilization - to overcome all of that. What campers and nature-lovers are saying is that our entire civilization is a terrible idea.
It all changed when I fell in love with Eve. How could I fall so hard for a nature-lover? What was I thinking? Obviously I wasn't thinking. She stepped up to me in the grocery store, commented on the...
My heart was pumping. I ran down the old wooden stairs as the clock striked 3:00pm. I rushed on the computer not caring that I pushed down my grandma and she was hurt. These results were the most important thing in my life. I logged in to my computer as fast as a cheetah, But than I forgot what my password was to the skyward. The heart pumping, my brain was hurting from me trying to remember what the password was."Ahhhhhhh" I screamed grandma who was still on the flor stopped moaning and put her attention to me. " what...
It was the fall that surprised me most. I had never been a graceful person, and I was no stranger to the more than occasional stumble and bumble, but to actually lose my balance, to land hard on my rump, feet splayed out in front of me with no chance to catch myself, that was a surprise.
Luckily, I didn't land on my trombone, which was strapped to my back in a relatively unprotected cloth gig bag. Trombone players are marginally useful as it is, and trust me, NOBODY needs a trombone player with a flat bell or bent slide....
The girl with the blond pony tail sits down on the grass with her fluffy pink skirt creating a cloud around her little body. She bends down and cups her little hands to the ground. Gingerly, she peeks at the treasure in her hands, lets out a shriek and runs to me. "Mommy! Mommy! Look at him!" Her little arm is thrust out to me and she lets me peek inside her hands. "Isn't he cute, Mommy?" I smile and tell her that the frog is very cute. Seeming satisfied with my answer, she runs back under a large tree,...
"Come on," Ricardo yelled, growing more frustrated by the second. "That guy is still trailing us. Step on it!"
"I don't know, Ricardo," Mark sympathized, "he looks homeless, and he probably needs help."
"Step on it!" Ricardo demanded. Mark obeyed.
Sam was just an average guy, at least he had been - but one day, he lost his job, his wife, and his two daughters at the same time. And he was cast into the streets. Sam tried to live his life, but it got harder every day, and he was in a state of severe depression. Sam had attempted...
"Hmm, urg, turn down the heat," he thought to himself as his attention turned to the pain in his armpits and ankles. "Who jumped me?" He thought, before he realized he'd soon pry open the almost necrotic lids of his gummed up eyeballs.
it occurred to him that a lot had already transpired that day, and he was just getting started. He looked out the window and hurried to the kitchen, then started heating up some coffee. Then he rustled up the morning paper and, fuzzy eyed, stared at it without much comprehension.
His companion hadn't gotten up yet, so...
It was full of bees! They emerged with a furious buzz, attacking her and stinging her ruthlessly. In a state of unreasoning terror, she fled, running up the stairs to the bedroom. She quickly locked the door behind her, isolating herself from the malevolent insects.
Left to their own devices, the bees zipped around the house, gathering any valuables they could find, and vandalizing everything else. They smashed dishes, burned furniture, stole silverware and broke windows. Laughing in their mysterious, buzzing tongue, they delivered a bee-related pun, and flew away, never to return.
Potatoes. They were on my plate at dinner. I ate them. They tasted fine. After dinner I went to the bookstore and thought of you. I think of you there most, though we never shared our favorite books with each other. I don't know if you like Tolstoy or Camus, Kurt Vonnegut or George Orwell. But I think of you most often at the bookstore. Or the library. Anywhere with a million stories and possibilities between fresh and aging paper. I think of us that way, a million possibilities; a story waiting to be written or read. A story to...
Hospitals won't help a dying man. At least not one who is truly dying. Most hospitals will rush to help a man who's body is dying but very few will ever stop to nurse the man who's life is dying. Right before the eyes of his friends and family, he begins to fade away. Slowly at first, but then more rapidly until one day, he is no longer alive. Sure, he will still walk around, eat, sleep, talk - all the things that are needed too be considered "alive". Anyone who has ever felt truly alive, like you do when...
I spent days in the field, hoping to see something bloom. The desert surrounded me like the ocean that surrounds an island. The farm was my island, but the desert seemed to stretch on forever. I could feel my spirits drop, the hope I previously had, burnt into wispy embers. Dark, black roots were sprawled all across the field and it only made my stomach droop as much as my hope. I heard my stomach grumble, and the craving biting into the edges of my abdomen. Desperation was my last resort. I searched one more time, holding onto the remnants...