The Word Was on the Tip of My Tongue
The word was poised to leap out of my mouth. I could feel the word coming loose from whatever papillae it had stepped in.
The word was poised to leap out of my mouth. I could feel the word coming loose from whatever papillae it had stepped in.
Larry took long walks where he bore a smug, knowing smile as he passed this editor’s house and looked upon the decrepit, unkempt lawn.
I didn’t bring my resume with me but here you go: hahahahahhaa. See, I’m good.
“Yankee Stadium?” I said, pointing towards the castle below. “Camelot,” he replied. “What the fuck,” I said.
Before Lex Luthor’s hedge fund bought us out and we started reporting only by telephone, I loved running to crime scenes.
Oh McNo. I’m not McFeeling so McWell. My McVision is all McBlurred and I have a McPain in my McAbdomen.
Fight back by repeating daily affirmations—"I am good enough"—or by taking off a shoe and whipping it at the gremlin’s head.
No more acting like you don’t want guacamole or pretending that if you get guacamole, it’ll make you too full.
Strong candidates will fit in with our diverse and dedicated group of cryptic caretakers, silent maids, hostile valets, and cursed children.
We’ll enforce basic duel-to-death etiquette, which basically seems to mean making sure one party dies (Hamilton is available on Disney+, by the way).
I feel like such an idiot. How many times did I tell myself, “make sure you turn off the lights, lock the front door, and put out the grease fire."
Heather was a total warrior throughout. Every time I saw what she was going through, I was in total awe. Like… Wow. Women are strong.