-
‘whatever internal event’
Bev, our elderly and sassy neighbor, died. She died three weeks ago tomorrow, alone in her house, found stone-cold between her couch and coffee table by her neighbor across the street. It looks like she went to stand from her usual spot on the couch, then —*whatever internal event*— and, down she went, off to…
-
the sandwich
I leaned my head down and heard my neck crackle like popcorn, after doing not a lot of anything. Yikes. I set my gaze hard my work list for the bakery and likened it to a ten-gallon bucket of clam chowder getting spilled in a kitchen that doesn’t belong to you.. like, it’s going under…
-
this is bullshit
Pain. There’s always going to be a point to it. Maybe not something quite as shining like a life-lesson or something stupid like a mission from God, just always something to show. My friend elected for a voluntary, ‘fix you’ kind of surgery for her slipping rib syndrome. Her newest pain was planned, a surgery…
-
gross
I was walking down the hotel hallway to go outside and have a cigarette when I noticed my sandals squeaking. They’re Dansko brand, kind of rubbery flip flops and they had never squeaked before. It was loud enough to make me self-conscious. When I got back to our room I kicked them off and moved around a bit, suddenly…
-
‘mousegate’
The year was 1995 and my parents had just announced their divorce to us, after dinner, when ‘The Simpsons’ was over. My sister and I sat in our poofy orange and white leather seats surrounding the round, Formica-lined dinner table beneath a hanging wicker lamp, quietly listening to my father calmly explain that they weren’t…
-
well that wouldn’t fly anymore
I was a quiet kid. Being raised with an angry drunk Dad meant that I had my personality whittled down enough to be a completely non-offensive, cautious kid with no opinions. A quiet kid is a safe kid. For this reason, as well as us picking up and moving every couple years, I was a…
-
mean girl thoughts
It’s really difficult to care for someone who handles pain differently than you. She whines, sighs, hisses, moans, grumbles, and with every breath there is voice, partially a ‘Jessica Rabbit’ throatiness, but mostly it’s like a half-emptied sentient balloon that’s slowly being manipulated to release its air. There is a near constant barrage of sounds emanating from this…
Solicitous Sociopath 