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Game ChangerIt was September and my dad and I were going to buy chicken at the butcher’s shop on fourteenth. He had just parked in one of the spots on the street when as he cut the engine he said:
“So Alex... why did you go to the Pride Parade?”
What could I say to that, but nothing? We got out of the Van and crossed the street.
“You know you can tell me anything, Alex.”
He looked at the ground as he said it, and I saw two things in my mind’s eye, then. The first were white letters, I couldn’t read them, but I understood that they said: “if you lie now, you will lie forever”. The second thing I saw was the last five months of my life come crashing down at my feet. My stomach burned cold, like I had taken too much Aspirin.
I swallowed. My throat grated, but I managed to speak.
“So... this would be a good time to tell you I have a girlfriend, then?”
He paused outside the butcher’s door and looked into the distance behind me.
Crouton QuestThe salad, as a dish, was inherently boring until it contained crusty bread. Downright awful, really, without the bread. The crouton was the pinnacle of human discards. It was even better than a half chewed Nature’s Trail’s granola bar, or a spit-softened rice cracker for babies. Not that any self respecting duck would say no to those things. Croutons were just better. So when the slim ladies walked out of their shiny doors carrying clear boxes with lettuce and packets of dressing all the ducks payed attention. Which ones would throw their little pack of croutons, without opening, right into the trash? They were no good in the trash.
We gathered cautiously around them; those slim women knew what we wanted. Most of them eyed us and turned up their noses. I fluffed my plumage back and got no response. One with a giant three wheeled stroller jogged past and scattered the group. We reformed, waddling together and quacking. Someone quacked a bit louder than the others and got a
A Woman on the Curbthin lips
You look like you're waiting, but
not for this bus
so I leave you behind
and I wonder if the curb is cold
Alone with the BeastI hopped from one foot to the other while the phone rang in my hand. Elizabeth just... she needed to pick up. I glanced at the mug on the kitchen floor and back at the phone.
“Elizabeth, I need you to, I need you to pick up. Please.”
It rang, then clicked.
Her voice was muted on the line.
“Liza! Liza, hi it’s Jason.”
“Jason? Hi. What’s--”
“Liza I need you to bring me a package, or maybe two, of those red plastic cups-- you know? The beer ones.”
There was silence over the receiver.
I kept hopping and peeking at that mug on the floor. Once I ventured a look at the three clustered around the doorway, but I looked back and shuddered.
“Liza, I just--”
I held my breath.
“I can’t go get more.”
My glassware reflected light back at me fro
Suggested by neurotype
Suggested by sincebecomeswhy
Suggested by sincebecomeswhy
Suggested by sincebecomeswhy
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