Days went by as I stood in the woods waiting for a tree to fall, and when none did, I determined the universe is cold and indifferent and that man’s only hope is to buy wood chippers.

Elvis at a Starbucks. Some graphic words.

“White,” he says. -- “Black,” I answer.

It was twilight, and the sky was getting darker even as the lights of civilization were becoming more noticeable in the gloom. The daytime city, with its grit and dust and texture, was disappearing. Soon there would only be electric light and neon and the

Last-minute women notice me and latch on, converging in narcotized spirals, old sunflowers twisting towards a fake light. Ugly, used up people, turning like dirty snow, terrified of facing the sunlight alone, of the hour long drunken drive home.

what a mess

I would roll my eyes, give one word replies or a smiley face.

his wife had made love to another man, out of spite or love or to wake him from his conventional slumber, we never learned. We were there as a foil, a first step towards reconciliation, unction.

I hope I don’t have aches and pains in heaven Cause here on Earth I ache in all my parts These old bones don’t have the spring they used to I sure hope heaven has electric shopping carts

She stood there with ladylike maturity; her eyes were frightening with an unforgiving look, visible in her tears that pierced the very core of Oryn’s heart.

With Abletofly you will be able to fly and the feeling will be overwhelming! That’s right, Abletofly. A few warnings and precautions are in order, however: Don’t try to drive a car if you experience an erection lasting more than eight hours.

Fritz Lang. Even before I ever met the miserable son of a bitch, with his monocle and superior airs, I hated him. In person, he was an insufferable asshole.

He was the kind of cat who began lifting weights in the fourth grade.

His feet are the size of thumbs, the segments of his toes no larger than grains of rice.

The lard-arsed ol’bastard struggling soot-faced and yelling. . . .