thelovemutt
he stuck his fingers up, antlers erect, and charged at me. christmas tradition. any time the song "grandma got run over by a reindeer" came on, billy went nuts. it would always end with me reaching out and grabbing him by the waist, lifting him soaring across my lap so that i could commence the tickle torture.
Did this really happen?, she thought. But...
Shelley hadn't failed in her life. Until now. The "34" was like a slash on her unmarred skin, bleeding into her eyes and burning into her mind. She couldn't help thinking, I am so dead. Her mother, she knew, was going to kill her.
He was such a curious little kid- sticking his nose EVERYWHERE, even when it got shit on. Problem was that curiosity was dangerous... and highly annoying. If he didn't get an answer, it turned into a shouting match- whoever could yell louder... Although he always somehow won. If he couldn't yell it out, he'd throw it out - toys, stuffed animals, books, shoes, sticks. His curiosity was killing our patience, and pretty soon, it may kill us.
I'd forgotten how boring life could be. Sure, free time's been great, but there's only so much time before it starts to weigh down. Now I'm slumped on a chair, my head as a clock, pushing down on my shoulders, on my back, my neck, and tick-tocking me to sleep. Must - tick - stay - tock - awake - tick... Maybe a book will help?
She took the shot straight as Shelly winced. It wasn't quite so bad as she had expected, though it still burned going down. I earned this, she reminded herself. Fuck it. Fuck life. It's time to live.
Shelly watched in awe as Janna took another 3 shots, and shook her head. That girl....
She stared at the console, fingers itching to type. Her mind held them back. She overthought things, reigning in her whinnying fingers to a sharp halt. They bowed down dejected, wondering when they'd have another chance to canter freely.
The ivy curled up and along the brick of his home. It was a mask, hiding the rot of those bricks, stealing the attention away from the weeds in front, and covering windows covered in grime. They were a beautiful mask, though, however deceptive they were. Isn't that the way it always works, though? she thought.
Johnny walked in, cradling his stuffed octopus in his arms. "How are ya doing today, Johnny?," Dave asked, but Johnny just buried his face in the toy, muttering into its tentacles that he wanted to go back in his life.
"Complete me"
That's all she said, walking toward me and unbuttoning down. Complete me.
As if it were that easy...
the story was FINALLY completed! All I had to do was send it in. But, of course, to be safe, I had everyone who was willing read it over- to, you know, edit it or, more importantly, send me their undying, worshipping praise.
Well, shit.
Each and every review came back red. The papers were soaked in BIC ink and it was not at all kind.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?!
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