toriboutin
Emma looked at her dill pickles and thought about how ironic it was that she, a girl named Emma, had a dilemma about which dill to eat. Emma was very observant of the phonetic world for a six year old.
"Wow, a twizzler sounds delicious right now," said not one ever,
I just really want a pizza. All jokes aside, I would fucking love a pizza. I'm prejudice when it comes to my pizza. White is the best. Seriously, white pizza is where it's at. It's orgasmic.
Shouting muffled through the walls; tense, but indistinct. "Boom," went the wall. "Boom."
In greens and grays he saved the day. A shadowed pal followed always close behind. A twinkle in his eye and by his side as he said goodnight. "Goodnight. Goodnight, " said Peter Pan.
Sometimes I see it in the distance. Not in focus. Small. Then bigger. Swirling colors, like static on a television. A tornado that overwhelms my vision. I know it, but I can no longer see it. My brain fills in the gaps.
I walked down the marbled steps. The wind swirled the leaves from tree to air to ground, again and again. I turned the corner on the end of the block. I heard the bells chime. A funeral. Goodbye to the soul. Goodbye to my belief.
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