Dog house ha! Who can actually successfully lie to themselves so well that they believe I'm actually fine out here in the snow while they're right there in the house warm and dry and not... what's that word? Lonely.
Each time the girl comes out, I waggle and lick her face to let her know the business about "heaven" written on my dog house is not exactly accurate.
She won't be back for a long time. I'll wait, and hope she figures out soon that I can't protect her from out here. I wish the man would let me help...
Cute
Cute and smiling
If only she could have held it, forever Then she would have been...useful? what she was meant to be? fulfilled? fulfilling?
Personalities are a funny thing. Sometimes you don't like what you are meant to like sometimes you don't act the way you want to act you say no to all the right things and "oh God yes!" to so so many wrong things and you become less cute and drifty and lost.
Even on Christmas
Even with snow
Not what they expected, if they expected anything,
Other than cute.
Cute and smiling
Drudgery of the everyday. There's really nothing else to explain it. Banality of sadism. John, standing at the dump, Alka Seltzer pill wrapped in a piece of bologna for the birds. Has he ever thought what a bird might feel while its innards explode? That's not really the point. He wants to know if it can work. If he can leave a wake of destruction with nothing but everyday objects.
He watches the bird gulp down the bologna and retake flight. He sees it hesitate, and pop, it falls from the air, guts hanging out of its mouth.
Adam, working...
The wheels on the gurney squeaked in time to the beat of his heart. He had forgotten to tell Mary and the kids something. He'd told Johnny and Sarah to mind their mom's words, to study hard, get good grades, everything you'd want to tell your children in 6 minutes before they wheeled you off into heart surgery. This time, will it take? Will I finally get the heart that belongs to me or will my body reject it, another hope dashed, another disappointment in its place. Another list, more waiting, more drugs, another death. Mary, he'd forgotten to kiss...
blahblah fuck
The moon would never be the same again.
It was three years ago, and she had just gotten off work. She worked late back then, and she stared up at the black sky and pondered herself.
"Who am I?" she whispered aloud, to nobody in particular.
She realized that over the years, she'd put herself into a box. Everything about her, from her work habits, to her social life, even down to her gender identity, were in effort to be normal.
As she stared at the bright circle that stood out against the sky, she realized that being different from...
I am plastic.
Three years ago, I went to Hawaii (a big rock in the middle of the ocean) with a rock on my finger. I came back with sunburn, razor burn, and a too-tight gold band that cut my finger right below the big rock.
Two years ago, my birthday present was breast implants. I guess they look okay. After I healed, we had sex and he said, "Huh, they don't feel so great. Look nice, though."
I'm here, I guess. I don't know if I ever was. I've been wearing lipstick since eleven and stuffing my bra since...
I held it at arm's length. The would seemed to shake as I looked over the orb. My thoughts started to take a turn for the worse. I invision the sky grew dark and I alone in a vast ocean the orb was what I think was the sun storm clouds started to gather and the sea became rougher, I held the orb there still at arms length, then without warning the world went dark and the noise of the waves left me to be alone still with the orb.
The dapper man picked up a penny. Having stopped, he was hit by an unsuspecting driver who failed to see him get skewered by the starting handle from the high cab of the grocer's van. At first I smiled for having placed the coin, specially bought at auction 68 years from now. And then… absolutely nothing happened.
When SciFi authors tell you of the Grandfather Paradox, don't believe a bloody word. I'd spent a fortune, and most of my adult life pushing the boundaries of Quantum Symmetry, SuperStrings and a host of other areas of Science and Technology. All for...
"I'm with Stupid"
The T-Shirt slogan on the Soul in front of me seemed peculiarly poignant. Stupid he most certainly was, having been 'gathered' with what the lesser demons called the "Camelot curse" - trading their immortal spirits for a lottery win, which regularly brought in hundreds for as little as £10 a life - rarely did they actually define exactly how much they wanted to win. It was all about the rules, really. HIM upstairs… you know… insisted.
The obligatory 'get out' clause, the battle of wits, wasn't required by HIM, but NICK said there wasn't any fun without...