Satire
Death, Bless the Lonely Souls
I have screwed a couple of witches. I try my damndest not to fuck with them, but their appeal is irresistible. What is a life well lived? What does that mean? If you don’t know, you should mind your business and let me enjoy a quiet death, the way no one expects me to welcome it. I don’t even know what to expect in life. Everyday I struggle to defeat days, nights immortal suicide. Haunting like a problem I wasn’t supposed to solve, like a secret that hopefully won’t be found even in, or after death to keep myself respected and beloved.
By Grizzly Gentleman4 years ago in Fiction
Despite Not Having Found a Mate, Local Man’s* Soul Fairly Well Satisfied with Life
Local man (not to be confused with ‘area man’, a licensed, copyrighted, and trademarked term of the The Onion and theonion.com) Eric Feeter’s soul was said to be fairly well satisfied with how things were going in general despite 30+ years of not having found a mate. Even though many souls are said to require a mate to achieve happiness Eris’s reportedly made peace with it’s own situation many years ago. Instead of finding joy and life satisfaction through a mate, Eric’s soul has obtained a similar level of fulfillment through a passion for collecting comic books and paraphernalia related to the 1980s television series CHiPS featuring Erik Estrada as officer Frank Pancherello.
By Everyday Junglist4 years ago in Fiction
The happenings of Hillstead Heights
Chapter 1. Herbert Von Ickstein sat perched on the very edge of the seat, so far in fact, that every time the old bus rattled and jutted over a particularly bumpy patch of road, it threatened to topple him off. He stared anxiously out the window as the green fields and unkept hedges lining the road rambled past. Laying across his lap was a polished briefcase and a black bowler hat, both of which he held onto with extreme precaution. He was alone on the bus, besides the old man sitting down the front deep in conversation with the driver. The bus slowed as the road sloped and wound its way down into what Herbert could see was a little town. He could see smoke puffing from chimneys and neat rows of fences lining the streets. Hillstead Heights, which contrary to its name, lay in a valley surrounded by rolling hills dotted with white specks that Herbert could just make out as sheep. It was here in this sleepy little town that there had been a number of strange occurrences reported.
By Laynie helms 4 years ago in Fiction
Things Lost By The Wayside
Either I do not pay a great deal of attention the Catholic YouTube/radio's EWTN Network or this outlet is somewhat lacking minority representation. This does not make it/them worse or very different from radio's Black Information Network; I find them to both be almost of equal value, obviously in separate and differing ways.
By P. B. Friedman4 years ago in Fiction
In Defense of Offense
It seems you can’t go anywhere these days without seeing another “in defense of (fill in the blank)” article. By always taking the defensive position these articles have given the offense minded article writer, and offensive articles in general an undeserved bad rap. I for one am sick of it and have decided to take a bold, and dare I say brave stand, in defense of offense. I will defend offense until my very last breath and I will never be defensive about the offensive unless of course I am defending it from unfair defensive attacks. I recognize that this position in defense of offense will be unpopular with offensive defenders but someone has to stick up for the little guy. Offense has been on the defense for way too long. It has stood silently by as defense after defense has been written, and done nothing. That ends today. Offense is going on the offense and I will defend offense from any all defensive attacks no matter how offensive or defensive they may be. This is war, plain and simple, and defenses days are numbered. It’s time for the offensive to begin.
By Everyday Junglist4 years ago in Fiction
