Twisters

She forced me to go camping. We drove out of the city and we parked near a tree. We walked to a lake. So this is nature, I said, unimpressed.

They kissed by the riverbank. I’m so afraid, she said. He said, Look at the stars. And they stared at the sky. Now I’m petrified, she added.

I sat on the toilet and surfed the web on my phone. And then I finished up and rejoined my family only to discover I’d become a grandfather.

The cars collide with the dull oblivious thud of disaster. She races out of her crumpled minivan to confront the other driver. But he’s cute.

He left the house. The day was sunny and warm. He bought a cola. He was happy. And then a meteor fell on the earth and destroyed everything.

We climbed the mountain. I took out two beers and she said, I’m gluten free, and I stared at her and said, Then why’d we climb the mountain?

She said, This is the last kiss. We kissed, and I wanted to consume her. She pulled away. I leaned in again. She said, What did I just say?

I run to the bus stop. But the bus driver hates me. He never waits when he sees me running. Because I never loved his mom. But she loved me.

He watches her get dressed and he waits and he dozes off and he wakes and she’s still not done, and he says, In the end we all end up naked.