In the twenty years since my mother died, I had never known what to do with myself. Now, seeing my father marry his high school sweetheart, I realized what had to be done.
At 25, he had already spent a life-time of regrets and guilt.
And the thought that there was more to come weighed on his mind heavily.
The med student wanted to graft hands onto Sharia victims. The defenders of Sharia cut off *his* hands first.
He always wondered why a writer like himself constantly felt the need to lengthen a perfectly adequate sentence with an em dash, especially since an em dash coming after something like an “h” or a “b” gives the letter the distinct appearance of sporting a massive erection. Oh—
On Halloween, Benny hunted ghouls in the Shiners’ cemetery, even though he doubted they existed. Then after a Fez tassel slapped his face and a corpse bit into his skull, he believed, briefly.
Looking back, it wasn’t that bad.Sure he had lost an arm,some teeth and two toes,but at least he was alive.
At various stages of his life, he had dealt with grief in different ways. As a child he would cry; as a boy he would forget it by playing pointless games; as a teen he would drown it out with music and the everyday life, but nowadays he just wrote stories for strangers to read, hoping selfishly that they would perhaps take some of it away.
Halfway up the courthouse steps, she turns and waves goodbye. Noone waves back.
The thing he liked about the Straight Arrow Club was their magazine each month with the college girls in the tiny bathing suits. His father said the club was mostly like the Boy Scouts: TRUSTWORTHY, LOYAL, HELPFUL, that stuff, but at age 16 he papered his room with especially Miss November and Miss July –they had the greatest legs and bazooms.
To be or not to be, or to fly, or to be a bird, or an 8th grader, those are some of the questions. Answers are just more quesions in different clothing, for those 13 years old.
Killing is easy when you have watched your family suffer every naked indignity. After than using the knives only felt normal and happiness was watching the blood gushing from their necks and stomachs.
Centries old the struggle was only by men and the prize was women and everything else the loser had. It had started as a solution to war and an outlet for aggression and those who played well sometimes only had to play once, of course the losers only played the one time.
“I’m way too high for this shit!” I shouted in the King Soopers produce section. The cop didn’t believe that I was diabetic and talking about my blood sugar.
She knew she had to run from the beatings, the bruisings, the blood and brutality. After all, the police were on their way, and being arrested was not an option.
And on the last weekend of every month he would go and spend hours upon hours with his friends.
Friends, who though dead, were good friends still.