Darryl’s house was ringed by luxurious grasses. They were long and sweet-smelling, friendly and carefree, bowing and flirting in the occasional breeze.
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It arrived on a damp Friday afternoon in mud season, among the patches of soggy black earth that sucked at people’s boots and the lingering snow piles that slumped and shrank and whose melt froze at night so that the roads were more treacherous than in the depths of winter.
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While my wife got her hair cut, I went across the mall to a popular children’s clothing store to choose an outfit for a newborn boy. Semantically, it was incorrect though, because the boy wasn’t actually newborn yet.
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We decided to decouple. That was what people were calling it when you didn’t scream or cry, or when you only did those things in the shower or your car. It was the winter of ’09, and many of our friends were abandoning Mankato for single, discrete lives in warmer climates.
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The whole congregation, apart from a few noobs recruited at last night’s street-preach, knows the story of Mary Magdalene washing Christ’s feet with her tears. How on bended knee she wiped them clean with those hot locks of hers. Pastor Bob lingers on their perfumed, ropey coils.
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Really, without Ymelda’s infinite eels, the only protein on the island was SPAM and corned beef, and those cans were getting scarce. Some grew their own rice and taro, but there was never enough to go around.
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On our third date, Dan suggested we introduce our inner children into our sex lives. We were drinking whiskey on his uncomfortable sofa that was just two hard pieces coming together at a surprising angle.
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Patient X (#19-0157) began the MAiDCare-Natural protocol (10) days ago, as mandated by registered birthdate (aged 75 on 19 Jan), but at WellnessCheck-1 (today) has been found noncompliant with said protocol, and states that, “this is not [his] time to die.”
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Tweak makes you ambitious. You fire off paragraph-length texts to friends you haven’t seen in months. You have marathon online chats with guys you’d love to fuck but know will flake.
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Your mother always speaks of the scraps she got into as a girl the way other folks talk about Christmas. Nostalgic as she recalls waiting outside on some poor girl’s front porch, shoulders relaxed, light on her toes, fists ready to bloom.
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The first date is tits. You want to lay your head on them and put your dick between them and suckle at them like the cherry in a Shirley Temple. You don’t mind that my nails aren’t long enough to scratch.
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The Hibernation is mandatory. The Hibernation lasts the month of July. Outdoor air temperatures average 135 degrees Fahrenheit. People die. Especially people who are unfit.
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One rainy Tuesday morning, Mrs. Tsubaki farted loudly before her second-grade class. It happened during work time, and the room was stiller than usual.
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Of all the things the woman had done to decorate her dirt patch of a front yard there on Dunning Avenue, she was proudest of the glittery store-bought card she’d taped to the plastic burro’s nose.
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After the daughter’s fourth miscarriage, her mother flies across the country to introduce her to the ancestors, the ones whose bones rest somewhere in the hills of deep Mexico. She thinks she is ready, but she is not. Nothing has prepared her for this.
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Welcome to Snooze™. I am Ura, your trusted sleep guide. For this session, I will ferry you to a warm place where sleep awaits you. Though your bones are tired and your body weary, they are worthy of rest.
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They agreed. They agreed not to say “I love you” anymore. He slapped the flaccid slice of pizza on the top of the overstuffed garbage.
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Episode 4.01: Surprise Surprise
As Nana’s birthday approaches, Taylor seeks out a replacement gift when he learns that both he and Jason have gotten her copies of her favorite novel, Wuthering Heights. Meanwhile, Alice gets into a fight with her older sister Martha after Martha tells her she isn’t responsible enough to keep a pet.
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Every driver—including my cousin Chup-boy here—is in a panic. Two five-gallon, white paint buckets rolling in the left lane on Knollwood exploded out every way like ink blot central.
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(hope it is ok I’m typing up here, but I’d exceeded the characters in the relationship to mother box) so to get back to the question, Piper and me meet Mom one Sunday a month at the waterpark in Marina Cove now.
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