Ultimatum

No one wants to get into a car accident. There’s never a convenient time for it. 

This one Saturday, I had the whole day to myself and aimlessly drove around town, seeing and doing things I always promised myself I was going to do. 

The sun started to set and I began to hear laughter. Not the wholesome laughter either; it was the loud snorts and whooping from college kids. I remember that scene very well. That’s not my world anymore. 

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Wheezing

I’ve snuck out and my parents don’t know where I am because it’s 1998 and cell phones aren’t a thing. 

It’s late because I spent all night drinking, showing off to a bunch of college kids I don’t know. 

The party was a bust and I’m on the road now before I get into some real trouble. 

It’s interesting when there isn’t any lights and there’s a guy on the side of the road. 

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FunHouse

“Baby, it’s time to get up,” Camille said.

“Okay,” Richie mumbled with his face buried in his pillow.

“Come on, sweet pea. You’re going to be late and I can’t drive you to school,” Camille returned to Richie’s doorway to say. After a few moments, she returned. “Richard, I am not feeling well and I don’t have time for this.” Camille peered into the darkness and saw something wasn’t right.  

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B.A.D.

Wednesday, Two-thousand something something…

I stare at myself through the reflection of a cracked mirror. This isn’t an allegory that I’m fractured. Please, this isn’t poetry. 

I can see my molars through the different shards as I yawn. Fillings. Metal. That’d be a bitch if if they cracked. I brush my teeth diligently ‘cause I don’t like implied future pain. And for the love of God, floss. There’s a broken brush in front of me. My hair is messy. Knotting. Now, this is optional. What a conundrum. Who am I brushing for? Me? The big  Man upstairs? I always wanted Rastafarian locks. 

“Alright Brian, what’s on the agenda today?”

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Road Block

“Wanna try Mexican,” Rachel asked Bryan. 

“I guess,” Bryan answered lazily, his head resting on the passenger side window. He observed the Arizona desert as it passed him by. The two cruised over the charred pavement. The air conditioner on max could barely keep them cool as the sun baked them inside.

Rachel turned to him with her hands still on the steering wheel. “What do you mean you guess? There’s nothing to eat for another fifty miles,” she said, waiting for a reply. 

“So why’d you ask me,” he asked, still staring at the rolling desert.

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