humor
"Humor is what binds humans together and makes difficult times just a little less painful; Sometimes you can't help but laugh. "
Novice
In my defense, it was my first time in Vegas. It was probably the heady atmosphere of bright lights, expensive perfumes, and crackling anticipation that made me accept when a casino employee invited me to take the last chair in a card game. But by the time I was holding a handful of cards, eyeing a pile of colored plastic discs in front of me, and realizing we were not playing Slapjack, it was too late to extricate myself.
By Candice Bellows5 years ago in Humans
Do Cancers Suck?
Astrologically speaking, I know nothing about the stars. As a 27-year-old, I recently took a job at a grocery store deli for $9 an hour. In my heart, I knew it was temporary. The manager quickly let me know that one of the reasons she hired me was because I’m a Taurus and apparently that means I don’t like change. She thought I was going to stick around for a long time. Again, I was getting paid $9 an hour.
By Luke Haddad5 years ago in Humans
Mad Madeline
I look exactly like the genie from Aladdin. I’m blue, I’ve got a beard and I live in a lamp. The only difference is I’m not as funny as the genie from Aladdin. I’m also not flamboyant enough to break into song. But to make up for my poor sense of humour and lack of energy, I suppose I can cook pretty well.
By Dean Blake5 years ago in Humans
Fake Friends in the Yacht Club
Sunshine on the open sea. Then a parade of yachts, roaring over the horizon. These are billionaires, members of the local yacht club. Then there is Jimmy. Jimmy is not a billionaire. Only today, he’s assistant captain of a yacht, shadowing a member named Richard. The club had teamed up with a local game show to award a prize to a lucky winner. Jimmy had won. Now he gets to spend the day with them. It meant more to him than the average Joe. He dreamed of driving sports cars, of flying in private jets, of being part of a yacht club. Only, his reality was different. He takes public transit, struggles to pay rent, and works as a food prep in a pizza restaurant. At least I’m not a dishwasher, Jimmy always told himself.
By Nevin Louie5 years ago in Humans
Murder of the Tenant
The number pad next to the garage door has a tenant. There had been a small spider crawling across number nine. He was kind of cute. Spiders can be really helpful, even indoors. This guy was outdoors and he was really tiny. Still, I was hoping for mosquito control. That was two days ago.
By Donna Marie5 years ago in Humans
noodle soup
Jane's seclusion had begun before the world dilemma. A series of defeating events created a profound change in her perspective, so profound that she left both job and boyfriend and moved back in with her mother. Six months after gracing her mother's front porch, she was still there. Wedged as usual into the corner of the sofa she observed herself reaching for her go to meal, a sleeve of Maria's biscuits propped up by the lamp.
By Dana Anton5 years ago in Humans
A Letter From The Author
A Letter From The Author Hi! if you are reading this, that means you have purchased my first best selling book! Hurray! I’m so happy to share my words with you! First let me tell you a little about myself and this journey here. You may be asking yourself, “Who is this Annaleise Entler? What’s her deal?” or “How do I find out more about this author? What is her history with writing? What makes her tick?” Well, you are actually in luck because this is my Letter From The Author and it starts like this…
By Tara Trate5 years ago in Humans
Small Kitten
I’m tucked into my windowsill wondering what mundane day it is today. I romantically fashion it to be a Monday because that would mean my line up of shows would be on tonight and I could drift into what is best described as a glazed over snack grabbing goblin. For two hours I can justify my sin of sloth because I am helping actors line their pockets with my viewership. It’s a societal contribution, I promise you cannot tell me otherwise. However, it is not Monday, it is Thursday. Thursday is a minimal activity day, for I am unemployed and have been for several months. Thursday is when I open the laptop as if it were the door of a confessional giving myself silent congratulations every week for executing the task. Thursdays are important because I have to complete my online unemployment questionnaire. I log in type in my name and password, I don’t trust google so I never save it. I don’t look at the questions anymore since I have them memorized. “Have you been looking for work this week?” Yes of course as I snicker and roll my eyes and click “No.” “Are you injured or impaired in any way that prevents you from looking for employment?” I always click yes, because I find my personality to be a people repellent, but they have yet to classify it as a legitimate ailment. I write that I have depression because they can’t tell you that your depression is false. There are a couple more questions that I answer yes, no, yes to and submit. Whatever they are I must be answering them correctly because I keep getting paid.
By Britt Baker5 years ago in Humans
