Unrelated Chunks: Part III
"No," Carolyn corrected, "you're doing well."
"Three bucks says I'm positive for Hep C," the older gentlemen wheezed to a stranger at the clinic.
"How can you be so sure?" the stranger mused glumly.
"I had sex with another man who had it."
Bending over to tie his shoe, Guido ignored the blaring honks that continued to grow louder and louder. When the car finally bowled him over, he noticed with dismay that his arms were no longer with him--only salty blood gores the consistency of sluggish cranberry sauce, slowly boiling themselves down the pavement by his shoulder, warm and deep red. Guido's cell phone began to vibrate by his mangled pelvis--the bone splintered like a bag of sat-on pretzels--and without arms it seemed an awful bother to muster picking it up. Guido figured it would go to voicemail, or if it was important enough would try calling back later.
Plaidshorts, the accomplished circus clown, was pronounced dead at eleven fifty-two in the morning. There was nothing funny about the profound affect this had on his family.
The small town was brutally bombed on March 31st. The four survivors just didn't have the heart to April Fools each other the following day.
The firefighter laughed so hard he thought he might cry.
When the city ran out of popcorn, the movie theaters were the first to complain.
The two cows sat appalled at the "Got Milk?" commercial. "We've got to write them!" Bessy asserted in angry fluster. "Easy, Bess," Fran urged, "that'd only be killing trees."
"I haven't seen you in ages!" the chipper cowboy whooped, giving the cactus a hug. "Ouch! And now I remember why!" the cowboy snapped.
"Three bucks says I'm positive for Hep C," the older gentlemen wheezed to a stranger at the clinic.
"How can you be so sure?" the stranger mused glumly.
"I had sex with another man who had it."
Bending over to tie his shoe, Guido ignored the blaring honks that continued to grow louder and louder. When the car finally bowled him over, he noticed with dismay that his arms were no longer with him--only salty blood gores the consistency of sluggish cranberry sauce, slowly boiling themselves down the pavement by his shoulder, warm and deep red. Guido's cell phone began to vibrate by his mangled pelvis--the bone splintered like a bag of sat-on pretzels--and without arms it seemed an awful bother to muster picking it up. Guido figured it would go to voicemail, or if it was important enough would try calling back later.
Plaidshorts, the accomplished circus clown, was pronounced dead at eleven fifty-two in the morning. There was nothing funny about the profound affect this had on his family.
The small town was brutally bombed on March 31st. The four survivors just didn't have the heart to April Fools each other the following day.
The firefighter laughed so hard he thought he might cry.
When the city ran out of popcorn, the movie theaters were the first to complain.
The two cows sat appalled at the "Got Milk?" commercial. "We've got to write them!" Bessy asserted in angry fluster. "Easy, Bess," Fran urged, "that'd only be killing trees."
"I haven't seen you in ages!" the chipper cowboy whooped, giving the cactus a hug. "Ouch! And now I remember why!" the cowboy snapped.