My Car is Dead But My Soul is Alive
God, I haven't ridden a bike for years. Okay, that still works. Yes, I have thighs. Thick thighs. Strong thighs. Thunder God thighs.
I'm a standup comic and a prose humorist (wish there was a better, less pretentious phrase for that).
God, I haven't ridden a bike for years. Okay, that still works. Yes, I have thighs. Thick thighs. Strong thighs. Thunder God thighs.
I’m not quite sure how to begin but I know too well how it ends: with tendrily monsters eating your loved ones.
It should have been easy—they're basically small, furry cows devoid of complex needs or even souls. What I could not foresee was rebellion.