Category: My stories

At home, we have a lot of bookshelves.
On one shelf, we put boxes of ashes, collars, candles, and cat toys.
Reminders of friends long gone. The best.
Edloe’s tiara and collar.
Nardo’s mousey.
But nothing for Bruwyn.
He never had a favorite toy.
And we never got his body back.
We usually got him black collars with white ghosts and the word Boo.
For two years, I’ve tried to buy one. But couldn’t.
I just couldn’t do it.
Until now.
It’ll go on the shelf with the others.
It’s not closure.
But as close to it I’ll ever get.

I’m on a diet. I read nutrition labels carefully.
The problem is, I eat things, and then I read the labels to punish myself for the sugar, chemicals, and calories I eat.
And the fat.
I know I should eat air-popped popcorn instead of microwave popcorn, but it’s so convenient. And tastes better.
But why do microwave popcorn bags have nutrition information?
Do people really eat this shit raw?
I don’t see anyone go to the movies and ask for a cup of kernels and oil.
So, I open the bag and eat some.
Delicious!
But now my diet’s fucked.

God warned Adam and Eve not to taste the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge.
So, Adam chopped down the tree and burned it.
“That’s not the point of this,” God said, planting another tree. “Now, don’t eat it.”
Eve reached for a fruit, picked it, and then mashed it into a facial scrub.
“I think it might work better as a shampoo,” she said, washing up in the creek.
Adam grunted, chopped down the tree, and chewed the bark.
“Hah!” said God. “You’re tasting it!”
“It’s the bark, not the fruit,” said Adam.
God grumbled and planted another tree.

Things weren’t good between them.
All her friends told her to leave him.
And she did.
She left him breathless.
Standing there, turning blue, clutching his neck.
Trying to gasp for air.
His eyes, wide in shock.
He passed out and fell to the floor.
She just stood there, watching him die.
And he did.
He died.
Mouth open, staring without sight.
She looked into his eyes, wondering.
What was it he saw?
What were his last thoughts?
Was he sorry for all he did to her?
One punch had crushed his windpipe.
Breathless. Speechless. Defenseless.
And she was free.

When things are slow at work, my coworkers chit-chat about online shoe deals.
To drown out the noise, I put on my headphones and watch webinars and online university courses about writing.
Recently, I needed to buy shoes, so I went to Academy for my New Balance 659’s in size nine and a half.
There was one box of them at the store.
I opened it. It contained two worn-out sneakers.
Some asshole had worn and walked out that pair.
So, I went to Amazon and bought the pair.
It was cheaper and easier.
And the cats got two boxes.

I have fond memories of eating grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup.
Mom used to make that for me after school. Or when I wasn’t feeling well.
Sure, it was just Wonder bread, Kraft american cheese, and Campbell’s tomato soup, but how those came together, it was magic.
So, when the warden asked me what I wanted for my last meal, that’s what I asked for.
And my mother brought it to me.
“Thank you, Mom,” I said for the last time, weeping.
And it was delicious. So delicious.
But not as delicious as when I killed and ate her.

My future self sits across from me, in the restaurant booth we agreed to meet in.
He had a gun, and I had a gun.
I had paradox on my side. If he shot me, he’d be shooting himself.
But if I shot him, I never would allow myself to accept this meeting, and another paradox would occur.
So, the guns remain undrawn.
He told me what I needed to know, and left.
His suit looked nice. And the looked good for his age.
I looked at the list of investments, called up my stock app, and began to buy.