Fights tend to start for no apparent reason. I say that was rude, then you tell me I was snotty first. It's a freakin' white t-shirt we argue over. One of mine I ruined myself with the blue detergent that sits on the washing machine. You throw it because I'm mad you brought it upstairs in the first place, when I was going to bleach it in the next day or so. Then I get more mad and tell you to not be mean to me, when really I guess I was the mad one in the first place. This...
It's not easy being funny.
People expect things of you. They come to you down in the mouth, looking for a laugh. Most of the time you can oblige them, but it's hard creating something from nothing. I'm not a music box that you can wind up and expect to hear a tune. At least say "please."
I guess it comes from watching too much television. Sitcoms really mold a kid who spends half his day on the couch. That, and a willingness to tell the truth to people's faces.
Anyway, it's easy to ask for a laugh. It's just...
She began a cigarette.
She thought about the beginning, when both of them wrestled with being simultaneously addicted to and afraid of each other. The fear was its own pleasure: they both noticed that the adrenaline of their hours apart was worth infinite foreplay.
She watched the first part of the logo turn orange and then grey. The image lasted in the ash for a second before mixing in with the image of the paper.
Later, she began to notice a strange emotional trajectory in their evenings together: the impulse, the sex, and then sadness, or disappointment. The sweat turned...
As I sat in the grass, surrounded by the darkness, I saw them all around me. Millions.
Their lights twinkling all through the forest, creating a dancing wave of color. The creatures move silently, using their lights as a path to find each other. I sit silently watching in awe, wondering how such a perfect thing could exist in nature. I admire the beauty, and lay against the soft earth. The fireworks of the lights cross against the dark sky. I smile, and let my mind wander along with the lights. I could not ask for a more perfect night,...
She made pie again. She never lets me have any, but this time she made one huge mistake: placing the pie on the windowsill. Quiet as a mouse, I sneak over to the window and hide in the bushes as she looks around for me. When she doesn't see me, she shrugs and turns away. Fast as a rabbit, I jump up onto the windowsill, knock the pie to the ground, and quickly eat. The old lady peers out her window and shouts at me. I'm probably going to go to bed without dinner, but it's worth it. I got...
I stood on the old wooden bed I always slept in. There was always a window up high and I would always look up to it at noon and see the clock chime. There were so much out there waiting for me to learn. I wanted to go out there, explore the world, make real friends. But I couldn't. My name is Ginnadi Mistaikov. My anonymous parents dropped me to an orphanage when I was very young because they thought I would make a fool of them because of my skinniness and ugliness.
The matrons in the orphan always called...
Daring to be noticed for the first time in her life, she pushed her chair back and stood up. Jerome, her uncle's brother, took no notice of her. Her hands were cold and shaking. He continued eulogizing. "He was a great man, and there's no denying. We all..."
"No."
That got his attention. All of them, really. She clasped her hands together tightly, willing her voice to be steady. Jerome raised an eyebrow at her. "Did you have something you wanted to say, Candace? Why don't you come on up here and say it?"
She swallowed, hard. The idea of...
For some reason, Zombies love wedding veils. Maybe it's a snare mechanism, much like how Venus flytraps look beautiful on the outside before they devour their prey. Or maybe it's some attachment to the things that matter in life, that is, in non-Zombie life. In any case, this one had fooled that part of Ricky that had been longing for companionship of any sort. He had been holed away with canned beans, month-old cooked rice, and a shotgun for far too long not to feel the pangs of desire as she approached him from the woods.
Big mistake.
She lurched...
The window was a lot harder to get open than I expected. I guess they aren’t really designed to be opened, but they do open if you pull hard enough. The air felt good; fresher higher up than on the lower floors. And I could see the cityscape below, half hidden in morning mist. It was going to be a beautiful day.
My office was private, not one of the cubicles most of the employees occupied, like rows of Dilberts enjoying only partial privacy. I had earned my space by bringing in the numbers. I had worked my way up...
My feet ached, but it was well worth it.
I wonder who had said that? They were idiots, whoever they were. My feet ached, and it was not worth it at all. I hated every moment of it. Every moment of the scorching heat, the desperate gulps at tepid water, the people by me, and the sweat, like some gift from a relative you hated, anyways. Anyways. I don't know why I did it. Wasn't for her, that much I know. I was past her, and was glad to be rid of the stupid promises. But it wasn't for myself,...