A Slippery Slope

D and I sat on the couch binge-watching Sons of Anarchy. I looked over at the fridge. It sat, mocking. “Mehh!” I groaned, longingly, fingers outstretched toward the refrigerator. D nodded, sleepily. He batted the air in the direction of the fridge. “I think we deserve superpowers,” D decided. I curled up further into the corner of the couch. “Mhm.” “Because,” he continued, “we wouldn’t … Continue reading A Slippery Slope

The Worst Art Teacher in Hell

I got a job working in Hell. Lucifer doesn’t speak English, so that’s something. “He understands a bit, so be careful,” the math teacher tells me. We work at the school for kids of wealthier residents. I teach art. There isn’t a Staples in Hell, but there is a printer. I hand out the worksheet; a color by numbers. Lucifer’s son sits in the front … Continue reading The Worst Art Teacher in Hell

There is No Such Thing as a Grown Up

We stop in Ohio at what claims to be the largest antique mall in America. Though, in America, anything claiming to be the largest of anything should be taken with the largest grain of salt. My brother and I finish perusing and loiter around the check-out counter while the woman wraps up a deck of cards for me. There are two big-old buffalo heads mounted … Continue reading There is No Such Thing as a Grown Up

Sticky post

The Meaning of Life on the Inside of a Dark Chocolate Wrapper

  **A friend asked me if I ever write erotica. I said no, but decided to give it my best shot anyways… Samantha sat over a cup of soft coffee, pondering the meaning of life; there were charts, tables, graphs, quotes, poems, and even the wrapper for a bar of dark chocolate. Samantha sighed. She turned. A man stood in her door. Half of her … Continue reading The Meaning of Life on the Inside of a Dark Chocolate Wrapper

Some Days, the Shoe Fits

N and I sit on the couch. He is skyping V. I am smoking. He says something in Russian, I catch all but a word. “Poetry?” I ask. He shakes his head. “Dress.” “You’re telling people I like wearing dresses?” He nods. “Hey. Dresses are comfortable and everyone looks good in a dress,” I say, defensively. “I know,” he says, patting my shoulder. “I know.” … Continue reading Some Days, the Shoe Fits