“I’m sure you get asked this all the time, but for the record –“ “How did I find out? I’m really sick of that question. It’s like invading someone’s privacy, you know?” “Oh, but come on, the public –“ “It’s always about the public isn’t it? That’s another thing that drives me crazy, always the public. I just can’t get any good ME time. I have needs too you know.”…
I’ve been called many names, by many different people, and it never bothered me. For some reason, it does today. There were times when I attributed their anger to disdain or fear. Fear of the state I had achieved. Fear that I was doing right, where they were wrong. Fear that I was more man than they would ever be. But that was pure vanity. No, today it bothers me…
Cheregh told me today that there is nothing more he can teach me. He says my grasp of the language is enough that his lessons would prove fruitless. I think this is the first compliment I have ever received from him. Verbally at least. I can see it in his face sometimes, that he is proud of my writing accomplishments, but I think it just isn’t in him to say…
“Kick his fuckin’ ass Joe!” Greg screams at the top of his lungs, a tendril of drool projecting from his mouth and swinging off to the side in the breeze. Joe glances over at him, Grins maniacally, and turns to face his victim again. Poor little Timmy cowers as Joe’s two hundred pound bulk of masculinity towers over him. A meaty fist slams into Timmy’s nose, a sickening crack and…
How the hell do you get yourself into these situations? There’s no way you can pick up the dog, get little Allen his birthday present, pick up the alimony check from Stan, and still make that dinner salad for the potluck tonight all in the next hour. Sure, maybe if you were Helen Slater you’d stand a chance, but face the facts, super powers is what you ain’t got, baby….
How the hell do you get yourself into these situations? There’s no way you can pick up the dog, get little Allen his birthday present, pick up the alimony check from Stan, and still make that dinner salad for the potluck tonight all in the next hour. Sure, maybe if you were Helen Slater you’d stand a chance, but face the facts, super powers is what you ain’t got, baby….
“You gonn’ be da furst one ta feel da ultimate power,punk.” Damn, he’s a big man. One of the biggest I’ve seen actually. Good voice too. Let me guess, a singing instructor for garbage men? “I’s ‘bout ta wipe dat stupid grin offa yo face fo good sucka. What you got ta say ‘bout dat?” Oooo. What to say, what to say? I mean, the guy could send me flying…