46 2 1
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In my dreams - Bo clusters with whole grain oats, a touch of honey, and I wake up knowing that she was my health, my sanity, and this was the only cow I would have run away to Paris with.
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3312716
|
Parrots live to be older than forty. Sometimes, she wonders if she wouldn't feel more comfortable being sexually defined as a colorful, quirky bird.
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7655
|
He is so orange headed, so photoshopped and so bad at small talk.
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17275
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He was happiness incarnate—with large magic breasts, that was true.
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170178
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That was why his face looked like a mole's face - the kind of face I could love and the only kind of face that I could talk to.
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1764137
|
It’s not every day that a girl like me gets greeted with a hairy beast that orgles and spits when excited. Didn’t help none that it only had one eye. Poor little ole bugger.
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180179
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I just mesh with what I'm given. Say you run away with a trickster, a con-artist. Say he's your step-father. Say he asks you to do things you like at first for thrill but you know are wrong.
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106216
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Twisting and twirling, nearing velocity terminal, the wishbones in their chests rise and fall with the cadence of different bird songs calling. As they whistle down each is distinctively screaming.
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1862413
|
Pam spied her ex-husband, Steve, at a Whole Foods market. He was buying red organic grapes, seedless grapes, the type of grapes that babies choke on.
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6785
|
I figured out where you keep your valuables, he says, twisting his lips up. Looking at my exposed stomach.
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8343
|
My breasts came out like pimples. Tom grew hair around his chin. It felt like a movie of us getting old.
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4864
|
Fiercely addicted to their iPods, the "I Am" members shivered or growled when she attempted to converse. Worse, the men who tried to talk to her after the get-together had mange, or fleas. They scratched at themselves nervously and stuttered.
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6722
|
He looked more and more like a child’s sketch called “man”.
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4121
|
Most people thought she was a bitch as soon as she said hello.
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18495
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The clouds above the Dublin Mountains are like singed cotton balls and the rose bush branches tremble in the north wind Mam hates so much. The lawn is a frozen square of muck, the white frost crusted on the few blades of grass left standing.
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