It's a short step out of the gutter.
The first time she tore his heart out, it had been a long, arduous process, but this time all it took was a hatchet and three minutes.
"Check his molars for hidden nanotech!"
The tooth cracks and makes a sick, sucking sound as it's pulled out.
"No nanotech!"
"Check another one!"
There are two bloody holes in his mouth.
"It looks like he's clean. He might not be a spy after all."
"Or too good of a spy...Goddamnit! Sorry about the tooth thing, Jim."
"S'okay."
Golf balls, mouthwash, duct tape, in that order. He scanned the items through the self-checkout counter and took the quarter out of his pocket, the one with the two-headed eagle and burning pyramid. He turned the coin over in his hand, shrugged, and dropped it into the slot. No going back now.
Strict military regulations forbade him from hitting sand even if he fell off a camel.
He looked deeper and deeper into the wine-dark center of her eyes and saw two pinpricks of light staring back at him. The points of light blinked once and disappeared.
Why do I get the feeling that someday these love letters will be marked Exhibit B?
The yogi took a deep breath and touched his thumbs to his index fingers. "No matter what happens, I possess an internal compass that will converge my experiences to a single unifying truth." The yogi could feel his body lifting off the ground and shut his eyes tighter. "Luck averages out in the long run, but sometimes the run isn't long enough." If he had opened his eyes, he would have seen himself floating three feet above the floor. "Um, er, bad things should never happen?" He felt a cosmi-karmic kick to the face and tumbled to the ground.
CAPTAIN: Do you dare?
BRIDE: I do.
CAPTAIN: Do you dare?
GROOM: I double dog dare.
There was a single communal heartbeat of disbelief as the prize-winning burrito slipped from his grasp, landed on the stage, and split open like a ribcage.
"No no no, the best part is that everybody needs water, right? I mean, this thing will practically pay for itself in the first month. Uh huh...yeah, mercenaries. Tell him--What? When did he turn into such a pussy? Tell him that it'll all be over before they even figure out how to make it illegal. We'll make so much money, man, we'll be able to buy people. I'm not fucking kidding. People. And if they ever give me any shit, I'll make them write imaginary novel excerpts. Just one after another. No fucking reason why."
• • • • • • • • • • • •
• • • • • • • • • • • •
• • • • • • • • • • • •
• • • • • • • • • • • •
• • • • • • • • • • • •
• • • • • • • • • • • •
I'm twenty-seven today. The red dots are the number of years I've wasted, and the other dots are the number of years I plan on wasting. I'm still generally clueless about life, but now it's a more...refined cluelessness that I'm really happy about. More than anything, though, I just want year twenty-seven to be different from year twenty-six. Not that there was anything wrong with twenty-six, it's just that I don't want live the same year over and over. I admire consistency, but not when I can't help it.
"Check his molars for hidden nanotech!"
The tooth cracks and makes a sick, sucking sound as it's pulled out.
"No nanotech!"
"Check another one!"
There are two bloody holes in his mouth.
"It looks like he's clean. He might not be a spy after all."
"Or too good of a spy...Goddamnit! Sorry about the tooth thing, Jim."
"S'okay."
Golf balls, mouthwash, duct tape, in that order. He scanned the items through the self-checkout counter and took the quarter out of his pocket, the one with the two-headed eagle and burning pyramid. He turned the coin over in his hand, shrugged, and dropped it into the slot. No going back now.
Strict military regulations forbade him from hitting sand even if he fell off a camel.
He looked deeper and deeper into the wine-dark center of her eyes and saw two pinpricks of light staring back at him. The points of light blinked once and disappeared.
Why do I get the feeling that someday these love letters will be marked Exhibit B?
The yogi took a deep breath and touched his thumbs to his index fingers. "No matter what happens, I possess an internal compass that will converge my experiences to a single unifying truth." The yogi could feel his body lifting off the ground and shut his eyes tighter. "Luck averages out in the long run, but sometimes the run isn't long enough." If he had opened his eyes, he would have seen himself floating three feet above the floor. "Um, er, bad things should never happen?" He felt a cosmi-karmic kick to the face and tumbled to the ground.
CAPTAIN: Do you dare?
BRIDE: I do.
CAPTAIN: Do you dare?
GROOM: I double dog dare.
There was a single communal heartbeat of disbelief as the prize-winning burrito slipped from his grasp, landed on the stage, and split open like a ribcage.
"No no no, the best part is that everybody needs water, right? I mean, this thing will practically pay for itself in the first month. Uh huh...yeah, mercenaries. Tell him--What? When did he turn into such a pussy? Tell him that it'll all be over before they even figure out how to make it illegal. We'll make so much money, man, we'll be able to buy people. I'm not fucking kidding. People. And if they ever give me any shit, I'll make them write imaginary novel excerpts. Just one after another. No fucking reason why."
• • • • • • • • • • • •
• • • • • • • • • • • •
• • • • • • • • • • • •
• • • • • • • • • • • •
• • • • • • • • • • • •
• • • • • • • • • • • •
I'm twenty-seven today. The red dots are the number of years I've wasted, and the other dots are the number of years I plan on wasting. I'm still generally clueless about life, but now it's a more...refined cluelessness that I'm really happy about. More than anything, though, I just want year twenty-seven to be different from year twenty-six. Not that there was anything wrong with twenty-six, it's just that I don't want live the same year over and over. I admire consistency, but not when I can't help it.