I pour the white dust out on to the mirror and quickly chop it into lines.
One by one, they vanish up my nose.
I let the rush carry me for a minute and then sniff whatever I can off of the mirror before putting it away.
That’s when I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror.
My eyes are bloodshot.
My face is thin and gray.
I barely recognize myself. What have I done?
That’s the moment where I make the promise never to do it again.
I’ll never look at myself in the mirror after doing cocaine.
Tag: commentary
The Angry Birds
I use my iPhone to play Words With Friends, but all my friends have given up on this Scrabble variant for a game called Angry Birds.
Apparently, these birds are angry because a bunch of evil pigs have stolen their eggs, so they attack various structures built by the pigs trying to kill them and take all the eggs back.
I loaded the game and tried to negotiate a settlement between the birds and the pigs.
And then I killed them all.
I smiled, had a huge plate of bacon and eggs for breakfast, and sat on a feather-filled pillow.
I Am Cancer
I am cancer.
I will take your hair and drink your strength.
I will use your body as a battlefield, fighting you to the death.
I will hide behind you as doctors try to kill me, and you will suffer along with me.
I may take your skin as a trophy, rob you of your eyesight, and maybe take an arm or a leg if I feel like it.
I can take everything you have and everything you are.
Except one thing: those who love you.
I can never take them from you.
But I can take you from them.
Medical
It used to be that being a werewolf was a death sentence.
But thanks to modern medicine and sturdy cages, a werewolf can expect to live out as close-to-normal life as expected.
Insurance companies can no longer jack up premiums or dump these afflicted patients as “suffering from a pre-existing condition” or as an “act of God.” Thank you, President Obama!
And employers cannot discriminate against them as long as they don’t pose a danger to their coworkers. Clever and careful scheduling resolves any potential, deadly, and costly conflicts.
(Especially with the vampires we hired to supervise the night shift.)
The Bully
The Bully watches the playground, grinning.
Kids are swinging on the swings, sliding down the slide, and they’re all having fun.
Nobody is fighting or crying.
He can’t remember the last time there was any trouble in this playground.
The other bullies are gone.
Back then, he had heard kids crying, and instead of bullying them, he bullied the bullies.
And won.
A girl runs up to him and puts a flower in his lap.
“Thank you,” she says.
The bully reaches for the flower with his good hand and smells it.
It’s wonderful.
Then he steers his wheelchair home.
Waiting
Bruwyn didn’t come home last night.
Usually, he’s the first to come home, but Myst came home first.
Finding a black cat at night is impossible, of course, but you can’t just sit down and wait.
Walking around, I hear what I think is his collar, but it’s just crickets and frogs.
So, I come back home, Myst and Nardo wait up with me.
If he can’t come home for whatever reason, I hope he knows he’s loved and missed.
And if he doesn’t want to come home, well, cats are cats, and I hope he’s happy wherever he is.
Hallow’s Eve
Every holiday brings its special charms and annoying marketing blitz.
All throughout the store, you’ll see a lot more orange and black for Halloween.
We’re not just talking about the piles of candy for handing out to kids.
(Although I must admit, I ate my candy stockpile and need to go out and buy more.)
You’ll see all kinds of products decked out for the season, some of which don’t make much sense.
Small bottles of Summer’s Eve douche, rebranded “All Hallow’s Eve.”
I guess if you’re turning tricks while collecting treats, it’s essential, but I’ll just stick to candy.
The Book Of Life
All across the world, Apple and Google fanboys are clutching their chests and keeling over dead in the streets.
Why? Every year, The Lord writes our names in The Book Of Life.
He adds those who are born and scratches out those who died.
But this year, he’s catching the e-publishing bug and giving up on the ink and paper.
He’s worked up a file and sent it to Amazon for publishing on the Kindle.
He thought about making an app for Android and iPhone, but those smartphone owners are a bunch of annoying cocksuckers, so he’s left them out.
House Guest
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I watched the ragged homeless guy haul refrigerator boxes out to the weedpatch by the train tracks.
Then, it was shopping carts full of broken appliances.
Item after item, he hoarded into a pile until I got curious.
There, in the tall grass, was a magnificent palace, constructed of junk and litter.
I was buzzed through the gate and met him at the front door.
“This place is amazing,” I said, and he gave me the tour.
A pool.
A ballroom.
A movie theater.
He smiled. “Now that I’ve got the guest house done, I’ll work on my mansion next.”
Bystander
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Who names a child Innocent Bystander?
I look over the victim’s medical records and shake my head.
A car jumped the curb and mowed down a bunch of kids on the sidewalk.
They all suffered broken arms and legs except for one: little Innocent here, laying on the gurney.
His parents have asked for no autopsy. It’s obvious that the driver is to blame for the kid’s death, right?
Except that he’s not.
The kid was standing in the middle of the street, and the driver swerved to avoid him.
Afterwards, Innocent was beaten to death by an angry mob.