Humor
Janet and Jimmi
Hits never last as long as you want them to, no matter your personal poison dishing them out without the decency to hop back or put up defenses. For months, Jimmi and Janet have been looking for the longest high they could, telling themselves that it’s only until the pain goes away. Only until their world’s splattered with events poisoning futures to blackened ooze seems a little less bleak. Only until the past was something they could laugh about on a beach, where drinks are brought directly to you, and the ocean caresses your feet as it comes to steal away the land. For now, their beach will have to just be a hotel room paid up for the next three months, unlimited cable television, and opioids with MDMA glittered amongst each of the 23 smugglable packages. Didn’t matter what form it came in, just as long as the shit cooked their minds.
By Willem Indigo4 years ago in Fiction
From Here to Eternity
The red brick building stood erect and steadfast, holding the alley in place. Inside, Catholic nuns did what they have done in convents for thousands of years; prayed the rosary and baked chocolate chip cookies. Attired in my own little nun’s habit made from two black skirts my aunt had given me for playing dress-up, I knocked on their kitchen door whenever I smelled the cookies baking. The nuns handed an extra cookie to me at their kitchen door. I was dying to get inside and show them what a good little nun I could be and join the order of the Sisters of Charity of the Blessed Virgin Mary. We called them “BVMs”. Alas, I never was invited to join the order. I suspect I wasn’t the only neighborhood kiddo who sponged off them. The rumor was if you forgot your lunch, the BVMs would make you a bologna sandwich. I couldn’t use that excuse because I lived across the alley from the school and went home for lunch every day.
By Beverly Marshall4 years ago in Fiction
I wanted to study but ....
It was 7 pm, the room was dark and nothing was visible but a few books resting on the bookshelf. I just woke up anxiously as I had an exam the very next day. It was the first time I didn’t prepare well for the exam. I was in stress as I wanted to maintain my top position in school. In a hurry, I just had a few snacks and rushed out to my friend’s place. Two guards outside the villa asked me what I wanted. I told who I was and they called for my friend.
By Azhar Malik4 years ago in Fiction
Elevator Shenanigans
It’s not news that when one is late for work, things don’t seem to move as fast as one wants them to: the car can’t race through traffic in a few minutes, the barista at Starbucks still takes 67 seconds to make the coffee, and the elevator moves as slow as a 150-year-old tortoise, except when it doesn’t. This morning, two men who work at the same company walk into work at the same time. George shows his work badge and insults the security guard. This numb-skull is an associate lawyer at Lawrence and Cole, the law firm. Right after him walks in a younger man in the IT department who is also good at his job. Jeffrey greets the guard, asks how he is, and hands him a coffee before going towards the elevator. Both George and Jeffrey are late. They press for the same floor. The elevator whirs as it lurches before it rises. Then. Bang! Zzzzt. It stops.
By Eliza West4 years ago in Fiction
The tale of Wenceslas
The Tale of Wenceslas “Piss off Gingersnap!” shouted Wenceslas in blind rage. Trudging over to the handcrafted mahogany desk, Wenceslas flipped it over on its side. A horse-ish reindeer cry of defiance sounded out of Gingersnap. Undeterred, Wenceslas ran over to the corner and kicked a hole in the gingerbread house. On a rampage of aggravation, Gingersnap grunted in defiance! But to no avail. Wenceslas ran around the house punching and kicking what he could. In the midst of his stampede he was rudely and pathetically halted when his little clenched fist met the hard metal of the refrigerator. “Son of a…” Wenceslas stopped when he heard the ominous screeching of the cabin door. A terror of fear lay hold of him as he sank down to the floor.
By Bathrobe Studios4 years ago in Fiction
Operation Frozen Yoghurt
The task was simple: go to the server room, steal company secrets, check them, and give them to my MI6 brother outside. But was it easy? I had meant for my cover to make me likeable, and it did. Everyone in the office liked me enough that I couldn’t pass anyone without receiving a hello and small talk. Brilliant. Imagine needing to smile all day and pretend you have a life. Abysmal.
By Eliza West4 years ago in Fiction
Game of Gnomes: The Necrognomicon
Bang… and other such alarming onomatopoeias had been berating Gassy Bedchambers’ ears for several hours now. The unfortunately-named, plump little gnome was lucky enough to have a sturdy shelter from the increasingly persistent storm outside. At least, that’s what he would lead any lost, weary travellers to believe. Not that he’d seen any. He’d in fact chosen this place for its dangerous isolation.
By M. J. Northwood4 years ago in Fiction
Yoga Bro versus the dragons
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. But, then again, the valley didn’t always have you as their Yoga Bro. You set up shop in the valley yesterday, marketing your wares as “Hardcore Yoga”. You had just completed intensive teacher training with Swami Hardcore. You knew him as the Swami who ditched his masters in order to divine the mysteries of why his hernia flared up only at times when there was trash to be picked up off his floor. You had been coerced into learning the skills required to appraise and acknowledge the holy hernia, or at least to realize it was holier than your abdominal muscles would ever be, even with all the trash you had picked up off Swami Hardcore’s floor.
By Anton Crane4 years ago in Fiction
