Stories | Page 3 | Points in Case

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I have come to the stark realization that I am no longer funny. I say that having once had one of the world’s great senses of humor.

Now I know some of you were disturbed by the creepy old gas station attendant who insisted on giving us his shotgun.

Just like wolf mamas out in the wild, she has a den (our closet) where she keeps her babies (plushies, only the ones with faces).

Boy meets girl, girl falls for boy and sacrifices everything. How are we supposed to change society if we keep glorifying these shitty images?

I should never have strayed from the routine. The second I opened that dessert cupboard I knew it was a mistake.

Listen, you're already on thin ice with me. You and I both know this ain't the first time we've found ourselves here.

With each passing day, her resolve grows weaker. She begins to wonder if the girl above will once again leave her in peace.

That’s when I see this sandwich, all multi-layered and cut in half with these giant toothpicks holding everything together.

I mean, if my life were a novel, this would be terrible writing. The reader would be flipping back, looking for pages they must have skipped.

She goes to bed early, after washing her face and applying night serum. I go to bed drunk, after forgetting to brush my teeth or remove my contacts.

By the time the bus came, I'd assigned everyone in line a "Lost" archetype; I was Kate because I was sexy and had a backpack.

“Is there a doctor on the plane? Specifically, someone with a PhD in Mathematics with a focus on algebraic geometry?”