Alright, my readers, time for a little complaining. Time to bitch about something for your amusement—and perhaps catharsis. Don’t take this too seriously: I’m only venting. It’s all in good fun.
Okay?
Everyone on board?
Okay good.
Fuck summer. Continue reading
Along the rim, they walked, and Charles became worried about his stability. His feet were not working well, and not landing well, and not going in the exact way he would have wanted them to do so.
Sasha walked alongside him and did not seem to notice his little stutters of motion. She simply handed him another drink, something she brought with her, and he took a sip of it. It wasn’t alcohol; it tasted like water. Continue reading
“It’s Christmas time!”
No! It’s not!
Not yet. I love Christmas. I adore Christmas. Holy crap, it’s almost here and I am excited. Family and Christmas specials and shopping (yep, bucking stereotypes, I’m a guy who deeply enjoys going shopping—just not for clothes) and I’m looking forward to every iota of Christmas lights I can get into my eyeballs and on my brain.
BUT I also like Thanksgiving. I find that holiday fun as well. I’m looking forward to that, first. So, just because Halloween is over, does not mean it is winter holiday time yet! Continue reading
The higher-ups of the company did not deem it necessary to interview the beings who quit out of the job. But, when it came to Jerald Punch, Employee of the Month six months running, they had to know why he would leave the game so young.
“Is it the pay?” asked the first, his eyeglasses covering the deep embers that should be human eyes. Continue reading
(Originally posted April 2nd, 2016)
Nobody ever said creating art was easy.
A flash fiction called:
—
“AHHHH!” the man screamed at the empty sheet of paper, making it move in a slight, wavering fashion on the mahogany wood table.
He reared back, his face taking on a bluish tinge, and he breathed in and out. The man sounded, vaguely, like a squeaky toy caught underneath a car’s tire. Continue reading
Nobody ever said creating art was easy.
A flash fiction called:
—
“AHHHH!” the man screamed at the empty sheet of paper, making it move in a slight, wavering fashion on the mahogany wood table.
He reared back, his face taking on a bluish tinge, and he breathed in and out. The man sounded, vaguely, like a squeaky toy caught underneath a car’s tire. Continue reading
#Whoretip
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