It was five hours after I’d consumed the five-hour energy drink and I said, I’m like Cinderella at midnight, just as I tumbled to the ground.
Twisters
(Untitled)
I keep hitting the hint button playing Bejeweled. Now she no longer respects me. I tell her it’s nothing. But she says I’m a cheater at life.
(Untitled)
Our relationship was in that stage where our nicknames had become utterly nonsensical, but then she crossed the line and called me Jalapeno.
(Untitled)
And then she says, No, and I say, Why do you hate me? and she brings up something I did a long while ago, because she will always be my mom.
(Untitled)
He says, I stopped thinking a while ago. There are murmurs of approval among the assembled. They hail him a hero. He says, I don’t think so.
(Untitled)
We stare at each other. Naked. Almost in love. She says, What one thing about me do you want to know? She waits. Can you bake cookies? I ask.
(Untitled)
We compare stories of loss and then the inevitable booze, and then we search for love and we don’t find it, because man we got really drunk.
(Untitled)
The box makes no sense but it has a barcode so I buy it. I take it home and try to figure it out. I scan the barcode. My phone laughs at me.
(Untitled)
The old man at the bar says, I’m a salesman. It feels sad and ominous at once. Later he says he sells pantyhose and then I feel like crying.
(Untitled)
We met by the hot dog stand. She was possessed of something beyond beauty. Her hot dog disappeared into her mouth in one bite. And I fainted.