My friend takes caffeine pills between classes and shakes in the bathroom, on the floor under the sinks.
Okay, so there’s that sound again, and you know it isn’t Tommy or Lindsey trying to scare you, because they’ve been asleep for over an hour and you’re certain the sound is coming from the basement
Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time playing Candy Crush Saga on the old iPhone Jan gave me while watching TV.
Nell did not consider herself a thief. All sixteen lovely pups were better off in her care. She kept them in a large house with a sprawling yard, surrounded by a sturdy fence.
The items on the list had come to her at random as she washed a dish or plucked a hair from her chin or put gas in the car.
Even his sacred biosphere (of anime, video games, Oedipal and teen porn, poststructuralist psychobabble, and grad school fellowships) can’t save him from the critical intervention of the collapsing world.
He removed a wad of fabric from under the bed, pulling on boxers and an Anthrax t-shirt. I winced at the Anthrax logo—I knew better than to fuck guys into thrash metal—too late now.
I wondered what my mother would say about the gun, and then I wondered it out loud. M gave me a look I was too worn out to interpret.
I had never considered practicing polyamory, so when my girlfriend suggested it to me, I didn’t know what to say.
Her parents, Mary and Don, were overcome first by grief and then by caution: they purchased fire extinguishers and flame retardant blankets, put the fire department on speed dial and plugged the holes in the nursery wall with corks, so that the angry neighbors could not look in and make a spectacle of their only child. Julia was their everything
Some hours pass, and nobody has impressed her
Before we entered the most raved about amusement park in the world, we went into the woods nearby . . .
John’s hands are on the wheel, very still, and he’s looking straight ahead at the dark yellow lines of Route 66.
This story is a fresh take on the proverbial phrase: go the extra mile for someone else.
It starts like this, the saddest story I know does. It starts with me and it starts with my son.
Jack Beauregard divides his time into zeroes and ones. He divides his time between mundane tasks and the question of whether he is worth loving.
We go to a bar for lunch that serves free candy.
Jared punches like dang. Gouges, arm-bars. Breaks windows at theme parties.
For the past month Wrat, a man removed from the dogtooth of language, had been hearing a scratching, needling noise clip the outmost walls.
On the job site one morning they found a dead squirrel. There was no indication of what had killed it.
When my team scores a touchdown, I have a few seconds in the spotlight to do my dance, to captivate the crowd. I pretend in front of my flock that I don’t enjoy it but I do. I am more vain than I let on
Mama Vincenzo’s Ristorante Italiano is located in hell
Love is like a museum. You have to look around, experience things, and then leave.
Garielle's longest, most peculiar, most particularized book. A sure-to-be collector's item. Delivery 4-6 weeks!
“Legs Get Led Astray is a scorching hot glitter box full of youthful despair and dark delight.”
—Cheryl Strayed, author of WILD
