The crumpled up purple shirt in the bathroom looks like that thing I fried for breakfast this morning but couldn’t eat.
I lifted my back sideways but all I got was a shotgun blast to the fart. I fart-died quickly and loudly.
You know, when my dad told me he was proud of me and my sister, his eyes dipped downwards quickly in the middle of his sentence. I used to think he had weak eyes.
I couldn’t eat what I cooked for breakfast this morning, because my two fish looked at it once and said, “It’s too shiny; it will give you swine-flu for sure.”
I took another drag from my E-cig and I said, “Sure, fish. Shore.”
God died a long time ago, but I still have fun.
“Anyone wanna go to the Barcade? I once performed in drag there when it was a bone broth Wendy’s! Ha ha ha.”