Humor
How I Became a Vegan
A week ago, at breakfast, my alphabet cereal spelled Doom in my bowl. I decided then and there to switch to Cheerios. Two days later my Cheerios wrote Doom in my bowl. It seems Cheerios stole a D and an M from the alphabet cereal box, which sits nearby on the shelf in the breakfast section. I felt a conspiracy brewing and rifled through my cupboards to find the ringleader because I’m not the kind of guy to slink away when my food staples start ganging up on me. I’m the apex predator here, not those multi-grain minions. I felt if I could identify the instigator I could put an end to this uprising.
By Karl Van Lear5 years ago in Fiction
Acid Rain
It’s only the fourth day of the government-induced lockdown, and I think I am already beginning to hate him. He catches me staring at him as he looks up from his work laptop. I don’t lower my eyes like I might usually do. Instead, my gaze furrows into a glare. Then I look away before I can register if he’s amused or pissed off.
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Fiction
Not Safe For Work. Top Story - June 2021.
It is a Tuesday and on Tuesdays I feel strange. I once read an article of a man in Ireland who died “of a Tuesday”. He was in his eighties, old enough to die of old age but still too young to die without a more detailed explanation. Except the doctor gave no other reasoning, other than dying of a Tuesday, which still perturbs me to this day. Apparently, dying of a Tuesday is supposed to mean the man lived a full and peaceful life, an Irish expression... but James Joyce once wrote the actual words, “he died of a Tuesday” in a piece about hanging. Maybe it’s a quirky Irish saying I just don’t understand. Or, maybe, the fact that I notice it is some underlying sign that, I myself, will die of a Tuesday.
By Jess Sambuco5 years ago in Fiction
