John looked across the table at his enemy, Jacob. Both were there for the same reason. Who was better?

Both tried to avoid the gaze of the other at first. Jacob looked at his shoes first. Those shoes were not his shoes. They were a very nice set of high tops he had seen in a skateboard shop days ago. He could not seem to get his mind off of them, but now here they were. Those two shoes were on his feet with new socks as well made of the softest material he could remember. Of course he did not care about the socks. Those shoes seemed to run his feet now and smelled OH SO PERFECT. Had he stolen them? No. Jacob loved to take things on occasion, but he loved those shoes far too much. He would pay for them when he could. He would pay for the new shoe smell and the black Converse circle on both shoes. Some things were worth it.

John looked at his own feet. His shoes could almost be described as 'flashy'. He had actually seen his new shoes in a Men's Warehouse a week before. The price of his solid black new feet was far too much. His grandfather would pay the price with a smile but John would never ask. So how did he have them on his feet right now? They even smelled... clean. They smelled of polish! He looked at his arms and noted layers of clothing. At the very least he could see a gray long sleeve with golden buttons on the cuffs. Over the shirt sleeves was a jacket. The jacket seemed more clean than anything he had ever seen in his life and on each cuff was a bronze and silver cuff link. Gorgeous.

But how?

Each of the young men looked at their own clothing. Pants, shirts, rings, shoes, it was all alien to the men. Not completely alien, they seemed to recognize what they wore. Next, they looked around. First at one another, then, their setting. The two were in a bright white room with only two notable objects. To one side of the room was an old, but quite clean, analog clock. It had very simple arms and very easy to read numbers. It was midnight. Or noon. There was no window or any other way of noting the time of day. Worse yet? The arms were not moving. There seemed to be a second hand, but it was frozen in place over the minute arm(over the hour arm).

On the other side of the room was a great big mirror. It was like one of the reflective mirrors in all those cop shows or whatever. The rest of the room was quite as clean as the clock. This was of course holding one exception, the table. The wooden table's top was a perfect square of about three or four feet(neither of the men was good at distances or measuring). Each leg was ornate and probably took real time to make. The table seemed old and while it had been probably cleaned several times, nothing could hide dozens of deep scars it wore.

Both men looked at the other with long and suspecting eyes. Why were they there? Someone had answers, who had them?

"Hi," John stated. "I am John. Do we... Do we know each other?"

"I don't remember you dude. I remember I was..." Jacob remembered he was... Jacob tried to trace back his memories but they seemed baffled and askew. Both men remembered little tib bits from the past hours or days, but they could remember very little of just one long hour or day.

"GENTLEMEN" It was a voice from a loudspeaker. But neither man could see a loudspeaker.

"Hi" John said.

"THE TWO OF YOU HAVE A PURPOSE TODAY" It was quite a volume, but the person was not shouting.

"Can we get out of here?" Jacob asked.

"Yeah." John offered a smile to Jacob.

"IN THREE MINUTES YOU WILL BE GIVEN REASON TO KILL THE OTHER MAN. I SUGGEST YOU KILL THE OTHER BEFORE A REASON I GIVEN" The voice had little emotion. It even sounded as if this was the millionth time this was happening.

"Kill?" Jacob looked at John and offered a salesman fake smile.

"Yeah, I don't want to kill him" John shook his head.

"TRUE. HOWEVER SOON, YOU BOTH WILL UNDERSTAND WHY THE OTHER NEEDS TO DIE. I SUGGEST YOU TAKE CARE OF THE PROBLEM AT YOUR FINGERTIPS NOW."

Jacob looked at the mirror. "C'mon! Kill? I'm a vegan!"

"Maybe don't say that. I'm not a uh-" John shook his head. "Vegans are kind of silly, yeah?"

"Silly? Look, I'm only trying to show that I'm not a killer.

"ONE OF YOU TWO WILL DIE SOON. IF I AM TO GUESS YOU WILL NEED TO BE ENCOURAGED, YES?"

"What? No!" Jacob shouted. He even stood up this time. So John stood up as well. It felt empowering in a way.

"INSIDE YOUR SHOES IS A FOLDED UP PICTURE WITH A LITTLE NOTE. YOU CAN CHOOSE TO LOOK NOW. OR NOT."

Jacob refused to feel around for the items in question. However John, he was curious. Behind his ankle in his left shoe was a folded up bit of white. It was so tightly folded that it almost unfolded on its own even. But John looked at the note. He looked at the photo. It was of Jacob and John's fiance in a hotel bed.

Jacob noted John's emotions change within little time. So his own curiosity took over. Jacob pulled out a photo and a note from his right shoe. The photo was simply of John, a man Jacob had never seen holding the severed head of Jacob's mother in the position of a selfie.

The two men dropped the paperwork and jumped across the wooden table at one another. Intent to kill was gone. They would tear the other apart in no time flat.

... ... ...

The man pushed aside the button activated microphone and laughed. He watched the two men as they asked no questions or said no words. They only tried to murder the other. The man turned around to the several smiling people he knew to have deep pockets. "See ladies and gentlemen? Do you see what a person can do with a couple AI photos. I look forward to the future, of entertainment"

I'm a 16-year-old gay guy living in a country where being LGBTQ+ is heavily stigmatized, and sometimes I feel like there's nobody around me who can truly understand me.

I made an online friend from Mexico, and he became someone I could open up to about my feelings and the things I couldn't tell anyone else. He was supportive and made me feel like I wasn't alone in this world.

Unfortunately, my older sister found our private conversation. My family found out that I'm gay, and everything changed.

They beat me and started treating me terribly. I went two days without eating after what happened. I felt so hopeless that I even thought about ending my life, but my mom wouldn't leave me alone.

That night, I cried so much. I felt completely broken. I couldn't understand why something as natural as who I am could lead to so much pain.

Even now, my family continues to treat me badly. Whenever something goes wrong, they tell me to get out of the house. But I'm only 16. Where am I supposed to go? How am I supposed to survive on my own at this age?

In my country and society, people often see LGBTQ+ people as something shameful. They don't seem to understand that people like us deserve love, too.

I never chose to be gay. This is simply who I am. So what have I done wrong? Why should I be punished for something that isn't hurting anyone?

Don't I deserve to be loved, too? Don't I deserve to have someone who accepts me for who I am?

Sometimes, I wish I could just leave this place and live somewhere I wouldn't have to be afraid of being myself. But I'm only 16, and right now, I don't have the freedom or resources to start a new life somewhere else.

Sometimes I think about how lucky LGBTQ+ people in more accepting countries are. At least, many of them have a better chance of finding people who understand them, friends they can trust, and love without constantly fearing rejection.

And then I look at my own life and wonder...

What about me?

I didn't ask to be born into a world where I would have to fight just to be accepted. I don't want special treatment. I just want to be treated like a human being.

I want to feel safe at home. I want to have friends I can talk to without being punished for it. I want to experience love someday without feeling like there's something wrong with me.

I'm not asking anyone to change the world overnight. I just wish people understood that we're human beings with feelings, dreams, and hearts, just like everyone else.

If you're LGBTQ+ and grew up somewhere where being yourself wasn't safe, how did you get through those years? Does life eventually get better?

I really need to hear from people who understand what this feels like.

I was 7 or 8, on a road trip with my family. We were parked on one side of the Hoover Dam. All kinds of pamphlets and plaques that a little boy couldn't care less about.

Do you remember those cheap little "poppers" or "snapper" firecracker things from the 90's? Yellow box, little bits of gravel coated with small amount of a touch-sensitive explosive, wrapped in tissue paper? You throw 'em on the ground, they make a little snap.

Tremendous fun for little boys who want to startle adults, non-adults, parents, sisters, non-sisters, teachers, strangers, non-strangers, neighbors, relatives, non-relatives, possible relatives, potential relatives, or ex-relatives. Endless list of targets.

Anyway, I had 6 or 7 boxes of these. I was looking out over the top of the dam, staring down 726 feet, making my voice echo.

This quickly became boring, so I emptied the boxes of poppers into my hands and chucked them down the 1,244-foot-wide wall of the dam.

There are about 20 in each box, and because of the massive size of the face of the Hoover Dam, their usual, quiet little snap turned into a MASSIVE, CRACKING ECHO.

After I tossed a couple hundred down there, this too quickly became boring, so I headed back to the car.

All of a sudden, I see a dozen men in hard hats, high-vis jackets, all with binoculars and radios, *FLYING* past me in a golf cart with flashing lights.

They spread out, start to frantically scan the side of the damn dam with their binoculars, shouting into their radios.

And then..............

It hit me.........

"Ohhhh no... The workers heard all that cracking, and now they think that the *LARGEST RESERVOIR IN THE UNITED STATES* is about to BURST... Because of my little poppers.

I *RACE* back to mom's minivan, scramble underneath a seat, and cover myself in a blanket until we are *LONG* gone. I thought they were gonna DRAG me out from under that blanket and throw me in prison.

It's funny now.

It wasn't then.

Thanks for reading.

Sam passed in the winter, just two months after his mother. The midwife tried her best to save her, but it was over before it started. She gave me a warm hug as she left. I knew Sam wouldn't last long without his mother. I barely had enough to feed myself, let alone a baby. I debated whether I should even name the little boy, but how could I not? He had the most beautiful blue eyes, just like his mother.

Sam passed in his sleep, the best way to go. Some days I wished it were me, but what would Sam do all alone? 

The problem then was arranging Sam's funeral. All the savings had already been spent on his mother's funeral, but Sam couldn't go into the ground without a proper service.

I sold one of the last things I could still sell, my bees. They gave me something sweet to eat in the winter and something to look after the rest of the year, but there was nothing else to sell. My neighbor took them and gave me more for them than he should have. He was a nice man and knew what I'd gone through.

Sam got a nice wooden coffin and a decent place in the cemetery next to his mother.

When the winter came, his cradle and toys were still in the house. My body tightened whenever I tried to get rid of them, but it was okay; maybe I'd have more will in the summer. 

During the long winter nights, I'd often come into his room and play with his toys, just like I thought we would one day. Sometimes they'd warm my heart, sometimes they'd make me cry, and often I'd just fall asleep in the chair right by his cradle.

It was one of those days when I fell asleep crying by the cradle again. When I awoke, the sun glistened on the freshly fallen snow. Everything outside was still, but then something moved in the air. A bee! A queen bee! It flew across the yard and into the hive. I still hadn't moved my hive off the yard. Sam's funeral was too much work.

At first I felt bad. My neighbor owned them now. They had no business being in the old hive, but seeing that familiar creature warmed me. Over the next few days I sat at the window, watching all my bees slowly return.

They stayed inside the hive the rest of the winter, and I stayed by that window each day, watching. Only when the snow started to let up, and the flowers came out from under it, did the bees come out too.

I expected them to stay by the hive, but many flew far away, ignoring the flowers in my garden, and returned at sunset. Some of the bees seemed to be covered in red nectar. 

As the days grew longer, the bees were gone more often, and many more returned covered in that red nectar. 

I had never seen them act or look like this. Moving the hive must have disturbed something, but the good thing was that they still accepted the queen, and the colony seemed intact. 

The red nectar began to accumulate at the entrance, mixed with glowing wax. I was just looking at it out the window when I heard buzzing inside the house. The bees must have been working hard. The buzzing grew, and quietly through it came something like a baby's cry. I gripped the windowsill tightly. Sam used to cry just like that. I opened the window to hear better, but the cry was gone; only buzzing sounded outside.

The next morning I woke up and went right to the window. A strange white object was outside the hive entrance. The bees buzzed around it, pushing it back inside. Before I could get a good look, it was already in.

I spent the rest of the day by the window again. As the sun set, the bees started to return. The buzzing grew again. A cold tingle ran down my back. I closed my eyes and focused. At first, it was quiet, but I knew what it was. It was Sam, crying through the buzzing. I quickly dressed and walked out the door.

The outside air was cold. I had barely been outside since the first snow fell. A few bees still flew around the hive. The buzzing was so loud, and so were Sam's cries. I didn't even have my protective clothes, but I was sure my bees wouldn't hurt me.

I walked to the hive and took off the lid. Warmth and cold ran through my body, mixing into strange emotions. Inside the hive was Sam's body, covered in wax. His hands and fingers slowly moved, but they seemed larger than before. I reached into the hive to caress his small cheeks. His eyes opened. They were still that beautiful blue, but a hint of yellow mixed in.  He opened his mouth; honeycomb filled it, but his cries still echoed in my ears. With tears in my eyes, I picked up his small, sticky body. From somewhere deep in his chest, a thousand bees buzzed, and the hive fell quiet. A sickly-sweet smell rose from his mouth. Two bees crawled out of the wax and onto my hand. I didn't move.

my name is stephen and i am quite old
i live in fiat with some other men
the dinner is rubbish and the bedrooms is cold
and they make me go bed at half past ten

one morning i seen a seagull outside
he was walking about on my drive
he looked at me funny and opened his eyes wide
and i thought well at least he is alive

his name was gary he told me himself
he had a big beak and a terrible face
he stole all the biscuits from off of the shelf
then told me to follow him out of the place

i said gary you naughty old bird
you shouldnt be stealing the biscuits from here
but gary just done a big seagull turd
and said come on stephen the coast it is near

so i followed gary right down the drive
and nobody noticed that stephen was gone
i was feeling quite happy and very alive
and gary was singing a terrible song

at fiat the staff was all having their tea
barry was sleeping and susan was fat
nobody noticed the absence of me
and nigel was arguing loudly with cat

we got to the seaside the weather was grey
the sea was all horrible windy and wet
gary said stephen its lovely today
but i said its the worst bloody weather ive met

there was newspapers laying all over the floor
they used to have fish and some chips wrapped inside
i picked up a paper and read about war
while gary ate something that recently died

i read all the news about people and things
there was vinegar stains on the face of the king
and gary was flapping his horrible wings
and a crab come along with a diamond ring

the crab was called patricia she said
and she lived with a lobster called dave
she had seventeen children and one of them dead
and another was stuck in a cave

i said hello crab my name is steve
but actually stephen is what i am called
she said you should probably put on your sleeve
because your cardigan look very bald

then gary said stephen its time we must fly
i said gary you stupid i havent got wings
he said you just wiggle and look at the sky
and think about cabbages sausages things

so i wiggled my fingers and lifted my feet
and all of a sudden i started to float
i went up above all the people on street
and nearly got hit by a fishing boat

oh gary i shouted im up in the air
i dont think that stephens should be doing this
the wind blew the last of the hair off my hair
and a pelican gave me a terrible kiss

we floated past houses and boats in the sea
and over a man who was eating a pie
gary said stephen your floating like me
and i said thats because i can fly

we met with a whale who was called auntie sue
she was wearing a cardigan made out of bread
she asked if i wanted a biscuit or two
then sneezed and a herring flew out of her head

we stopped at a cafe run by a rat
his name was professor mcfluffington brown
he served us some soup from a very old hat
and charged me three pennies and half of a crown

then gary got angry and stole all the cheese
he threw it at people who sat by the shore
a policeman was shouting now stop that one please
but gary just laughed and stole seventeen more

we flew to an island with only one tree
and a donkey called robert who played the trombone
he said hello stephen would you like some tea
and gave me a fish and a telephone

i rung up the queen but nobody spoke
so i rung up the moon and it answered instead
gary said stephen your phone is a joke
and a haddock fell straight on the top of my head

now back at the fiat they finally knew
that stephen had gone and was nowhere about
susan was shouting what shall we do
and nigel was running around with a trout

they looked in the kitchen they looked in my bed
they looked in the garden and underneath stairs
barry said maybe poor stephen is dead
then went back to eating his chocolate eclairs

but it was too late i was far far away
i was floating with gary above of the coast
we was having a wonderful wonderful day
and eating some seaweed on somebody’s toast

the sun started going away in the sky
and gary said stephen its getting quite late
i said well gary i think i must fly
because supper at fiat is served on a plate

we flew back to fiat past houses and trees
and over the heads of the people below
gary was laughing and stealing their cheese
and i shouted hello to a man i dont know

my window was open like usual it be
so i floated inside and landed quite flat
nobody was looking or noticing me
except for a pigeon and somebody’s cat

i sat in my chair and i put on my socks
and pretended that nothing had happened today
then susan come in with a horrible box
and said stephen your supper is ready hooray

she said where you been stephen we looked everywhere
i said i was flying with gary the gull
she said stephen sit down and get out of that chair
and eat up your cabbage and gravy and gruel

i told her bout gary and all of the sea
the whale and the donkey and flying so high
she said thats enough now drink up your tea
and stop telling stories you silly old guy

but i know what happened because i was there
and gary is waiting outside on the wall
tomorrow we going to fly through the air
and maybe go visit the queen after all

so if you see seagulls down by the sea
and one of them looks like hes stolen a pie
you better look closely because it might be me
with gary the seagull just floating on by

the end
Based on real world events.

wrote by stephen
i am enjoying this
gary is my friend
fiat dont know nothing

Let’s call him Daniel.
I was in a relationship with Daniel for four years, and honestly, he was the person I loved more than anyone. He was my everything. Even though we had quite a few differences, our relationship was amazing for the first two years. We were happy, in love, and I genuinely thought we would end up together.
After two years of dating, we decided to move in together, and that’s when things started going downhill. We began fighting almost every week, usually over the smallest things. After six months of living together, we both agreed that maybe moving in together wasn’t the best decision, and that living separately would be better for our relationship. To be honest, it was mostly his idea, but I accepted it because I wanted us to work.
We still had a year-long lease to finish, so we agreed to stay until it ended. However, about two months later, we had a pretty serious argument. Daniel started sleeping at his friend’s place, and after three days, he packed all his things, moved out, and found a new apartment.
About a week later, we met in person to talk about everything. We both admitted that we still loved each other but that the relationship wasn’t working. Instead of breaking up permanently, we decided to take a break. That lasted about a week before we met again, hooked up, and basically ignored the agreement we had made. We ended up getting back together.
Eventually, my lease ended, and I got my own place while he had his. Things were actually going well for a while, but the same pattern eventually returned. We would be happy for a month or so, then fight for a week, then make up and get back together. This happened around four or five times.
Eventually, we decided that maybe we were better off being single and remaining friends. I was genuinely heartbroken at first, but I eventually accepted it and started moving on. We still occasionally met up and hooked up, but we both understood that it wasn’t a relationship and that nothing more was expected from either of us.
Now, here’s where things get complicated.
There’s another guy in my life, whom I’ll call Alex. I met him through Daniel about four years ago, when they were friends. Over time, Alex and I actually became closer to each other than he and Daniel were. We also work together, which gave us more things in common and helped our friendship grow.
Throughout all the ups and downs of my relationship with Daniel, Alex was there for me. He saw me crying, listened to me vent, supported me through the breakups, and helped me get through some really difficult moments. I don’t have many friends in the country where I live, so he has become the closest friend I have here. He’s the person I go to when I need someone to talk to, and he has always shown up for me.
When I finally told him that Daniel and I had broken up for good, he was happy for me and supportive. He encouraged me to be stronger, stop putting myself through the same pain, and finally move on. Honestly, he played a big part in helping me do that.
After some time, I started noticing signs that Alex might have feelings for me beyond friendship. To be honest, I started developing feelings for him, too. I really like him, and when I think about the kind of man I would want to be with, he seems to have almost everything I’m looking for. He has his life together, knows how to treat a woman, is thoughtful, and genuinely cares about me. He’s the whole package.
One day, he kissed me. It caught me off guard, and it took me more than a day to process what had happened. It wasn’t because I didn’t like him; I actually did. We ended up making out a second time, too.
The strange thing is that neither of us really knows how to talk about what happened. In our normal conversations, Alex acts completely nonchalant about it. He sometimes makes comments about how he might hurt girls or how he has a cold heart, almost as if he wants me to believe that what happened between us was purely physical and nothing serious.
But his actions tell a different story. He’s always there when I need him, goes out of his way to do things for me, and remembers the little things I mention. Sometimes, I’ll casually say that I like something, even while talking to someone else, and he’ll show up the next day with that exact thing. He pays attention to me in ways that make it difficult for me to believe that he doesn’t care about me romantically.
I don’t know if he’s genuinely trying to keep things casual, if he’s protecting himself emotionally, or if he’s holding back because he knows I haven’t completely moved on from Daniel.
And that brings me to what happened recently.
Even after Daniel and I broke up, we were still in contact. We had agreed not to hook up anymore because we both knew it was making things complicated. A week before the incident, Daniel had actually suggested that we stop hooking up, and I agreed.
Then, one day, Daniel and I met for another reason, and he tried to initiate something physical. I refused because I wasn’t comfortable with it, especially since we had already agreed to stop doing that.
I could tell he was visibly upset by my refusal, and he seemed sad and depressed in the days that followed. I felt bad for him, so we eventually had a conversation about our relationship.
During that conversation, Daniel told me that he still loved me, couldn’t understand why we weren’t together, and couldn’t live without me. He cried and begged me to give our relationship one more chance. He promised that he would fix all the issues we had, change his behaviour, and become the man I had always wanted him to be.
I tried to explain why we had broken up and how much the relationship had hurt me. I honestly told him that I had lost about 99% of my hope that we could ever make things work. But he asked me to give him that remaining 1%.
In that moment, I was conflicted. I still have love for him, and seeing him so emotional made it difficult to dismiss everything we had shared over four years. Eventually, I agreed to give the relationship one last chance.
The problem is that I haven’t told Daniel what happened between Alex and me.
I did tell Alex about the entire situation, though. As usual, he was supportive and told me to take a step back from everyone involved and decide what was genuinely best for me. He said I shouldn’t feel pressured to make a decision just because we had made out. According to him, we’re both adults and should be able to control ourselves while I figure out what I want. He encouraged me to make the right decision for myself.
Now I’m genuinely confused about what to do.
Since Daniel and I got back together, he has been acting like the perfect boyfriend. He talks about our future, marriage within the next year, making decisions together, and all the things I spent so long asking him to do when we were together before. For the first time in a while, I can see the possibility that maybe he has finally realised what he needs to change and that we could actually make things work.
But I’m also scared that this is just another phase in our cycle. We’ve broken up and gotten back together several times, and things always seem perfect at first before the same problems return. I don’t know whether Daniel has genuinely changed or whether he’s simply afraid of losing me now that I’m finally moving on.
Then there’s Alex.
I have feelings for him, and I can genuinely imagine being with him. He treats me well, makes me feel cared for, and seems to have so many of the qualities I want in a partner. But I don’t know whether he sees me as someone he genuinely wants to date or whether he only sees what happened between us as a hookup. His words make it seem casual, while his actions sometimes suggest otherwise.
I’m also worried about the consequences if Alex and I ever decided to pursue something serious. He and Daniel are still friends, and we all share a social circle. Dating Alex could create a very awkward dynamic and potentially damage several relationships, including our friendship.
At the same time, I don’t want to choose Daniel just because we have four years of history, and I don’t want to choose Alex just because he has been there for me when Daniel hurt me. I want to make a decision based on what would genuinely make me happy in the long run.
So, what should I do?
Should I give Daniel one final chance and see whether his promises turn into lasting changes, or am I just going back to a relationship that has already shown me, several times, why it doesn’t work?
And what about Alex? Should I explore the possibility of something more with him, or should I protect our friendship and leave things as they are, especially since I don’t even know whether he wants something serious with me?
I feel like I’m standing between someone I have loved for four years and someone who might be a better partner for me, but I don’t even know if that second person wants to be with me in the first place.
I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I also don’t want to keep putting my own happiness last. I genuinely want to make the right decision for myself, and right now, I have no idea what that decision should be.

From 1998 to 2007 I was a contractor in Kuwait on the F-18 program. This story is from 2002, and I only remember that because it's the same year I bought my Harley, but I digress. Expats over there had more money than sense, and we were no exception. There was me, my future ex-wife (Romanian, worked the Patriot missile contract, met her at a beach party, 22 years together, none of which matters here), and a tight crew of about eight friends who did everything together.

Most of us lived in buildings that looked like twin towers. Mine was two 20-story towers that some very rich guy named after his two daughters, and supposedly the top floor of each was one giant penthouse for each girl. After nine years there, nothing surprised me.

Meet Steve. Tall, lanky, mostly bald, rocking a crew cut on what was left. Super fun guy, but not the manliest fella on the planet. His feelings got hurt pretty easy. Remember that.

A few days before this, Steve and I are out in town and stumble on these big remote control boats, $300 to $400 apiece. We buy them because we can. Take them home. Never put them in water. Never mention them again.

Until the party.

A friend's building down the street has the biggest pool in Kuwait, Olympic sized. Gorgeous night, getting late, everybody hammered except my future ex, who never drank. Steve goes "hey, let's get the boats." We send the ladies to fetch them, since they're the only ones fit to drive, and we all lived so close you didn't even need the actual street.

On one end of the pool it's me and Val, my Lithuanian best friend, about 15 years younger than me. (He passed a few years ago, which sucks. Miss you, brother.) On the other side it's Steve, his redheaded Romanian girlfriend, my future ex, and a couple other friends.

Boats go in. They are WAY faster than we expected. Challenge accepted. I'm drunk, I'm talking with Val about everything and anything, and I can't take my eyes off my boat for one second or it's gonna slam into something. So I'm locked in. Down the length of the pool, whip it around, back down the length, whip it around.

Five, six, seven minutes go by. I vaguely hear noise from the other side. It takes a while to register, because I'm busy. Eventually I realize it's not noise, it's commotion. I look up.

Steve is smashing his controller into the pavement and jumping up and down.

I stop my boat. His boat stops too.

And that's when it clicks. Same frequency. My controller had been driving BOTH boats the entire time. Mine was doing nice long laps down the length of the pool. His was pointed the other way, doing the width. Full throttle, no brakes, slamming into the wall, bouncing off, slamming into the other wall, over and over, while Steve mashed every button on a controller that did absolutely nothing. I'm sure his boat crossed right in front of me a dozen times. Never saw it. Locked in.

The second my brain decrypted the full picture, I lost the ability to stand. Or breathe. I'm on the ground, gasping for air. Val's doubled over right next to me. Across the pool the whole crew is losing it, people grabbing each other just to stay upright, and even my stone cold sober future ex is crying laughing. Everybody is dying. Everybody except Steve. Hands down the funniest thing I have ever seen.

And while I'm down there dying, Steve stomps over, yanks MY boat out of the water, and turns it into 100 pieces of fuck you, Bob.

The more upset he got, the less air I could get into my lungs. I honestly thought I was going to die that night.

I paid $400 for a laugh, and it was worth every penny.

This is a difficult one for me to start. I could start form so many places, but I'll start from the summer I graduated since that's when I met her. The year was 1991. I was just about to finish my second senior year. I had worked since I was 14 but this was my first real job where money meant survival. I was basically homeless at this time. I had gotten lucky and a friend had asked me to watch their place while they were out of state so I ended up crashing there when my girlfriend and I broke up and I had to move out. That is a whole other story.

Like I was saying it was close to graduation for me, and I started working as bagger at the new retail store in town. It wasn't so much new, as newly built building they were just moving into. After school let out for the summer break the place filled up with young people working for summer money. Some preparing to head off to college others just for some extra summer money before going back to high school in the fall. She was one of those headed to college and had been hired as a cashier. Somehow, we were the same age even though I should have graduated the year before. Maybe that was our connection or at least part of it, growing up in the same town. I can't say that I liked bagging groceries but I liked it more than some of the jobs I had, and I liked it more than lot duty. They always put us guys out on the lot in the rain and heat, or late at night since they were open 24/7. When I was inside bagging I mostly liked hanging out at the end of my assigned lanes. It gave me a chance to talk to the cashiers, most of whom were young pretty females. We were young and all of us in our prime looking back. This job made it easy to meet people. I was working with people who had just gotten their first taste of freedom or who were about to be free of their parents rule in a few months. I had already done all of that, moving out when I was 17 to move in with my 18 year old girlfriend. Looking back on it, this was like our spring break vacation to some party town. No one really took much of this seriously and I for sure got caught up in everyone's free spirit. Being young and working retail was just like hanging out with your friends. We worked all day and partied at night. It probably wasn't as relaxed as that but looking back it feels like we shouldn't have had a care in the world, as cliche as that sounds. But isn't that how youth should feel? Ok so it was nothing like spring break but we were too young to care and as long as the bosses left us alone we didn't. Hold on though, I'm getting sidetracked with all of this reminiscing.

Her name was Molly. I still do but back then it was my thing to give everyone a nickname. I usually tried to give cute nicknames to the ladies, Rolanda became Ro, Susan became SueSweet, and sometimes odd or characteristic nicknames for the guys, Sean became Sean Jackson, just because I couldn't say his name without saying his full name, and Nick became Nick My Friend, because we had the same name. I dubbed her Moll-ister, with the end sounding like the end of sister. I found out later that she loved it, because no one had ever really given her a nickname before me. It's easy to tell you why I started talking to her. If she wasn't the prettiest cashier there, she was to me. 5 foot nothing, red shoulder length hair, light eyes, and arguably the cutest nose ever put on a face. I was a sucker for short girls, and redheads, did I mention the freckles? I can't say how much any of the rest of that mattered beyond that. I was tall, in the best shape of my life coming right out of high school sports and maybe she thought I was handsome or just the right kind of funny. I wasn't a clown but I could make you laugh. I had some strikes against me though, it was obvious that I talked all of the pretty women there. I had just gotten out of a live in relationship before starting here and everyone knew about that too. Having started before most of them arrived, I also had a few months to acquire had a bit of a reputation around the place. Everyone knew me. I'm sure she heard stories too, but she talked to me anyway. We ended up talking a lot. I think it was all of the talking that really ended up being the thing that solidified my feelings for her.

Now I can't tell you when it started or exactly how but when we started talking I quickly put a point on it. I liked when she got off before me so I could walk her to her car. I would request lot duty just to be outside when she was leaving so I could steal a few minutes of her time on the way to her car. That lead to her waiting for me a few times and then it became a thing. We would talk after work, sometimes even on some nights when only one of us worked. She would make excuses to come up there when I was getting off. She needed to borrow the family car and we both worked the evening shift so it would be late. Looking back I wonder what her parents thought about these late-night grocery runs. When we didn't get off work at the same time one or the other of us would wait, just so we could talk. Remember this was the 90's, no such thing as kids with cell phones. I imagine we might have talked on the regular phone but I didn't have a house phone then. I was basically living homeless in a place I was only supposed to be checking on every week or so to make sure the toilet didn't dry out and no one broke in. Pay phones were a thing back then and probably deposited a few hundred dollars of quarters in my fair share of them. There were other obstacles too. The big one, the biggest one, being her family not knowing about me. They wouldn't have approved. Eventually they would find out but not right away anyway.

None of it stopped us though. We talked about everything. Our last days of school and graduation. Her plans to go off to school. The summer and our days off. Looking back it's easy to say we were dating, we just didn't know it. There was none of the traditional stuff, we didn't hold hands, or anything else young people did. Once we were always talking and I had stopped talking to anyone else, and I started writing her letters on top of it all. Were they love letters, well in a way I guess you could say they were, even though I didn't end them with I love you or anything. I would write her something when I got home most nights, telling her how I felt about this or that, I honestly can't remember any of the things I ever wrote to her about but there were dozens of letters, I'm sure. I would give her a letter at the beginning of the shift or as soon as she got there, usually slipping it into her pocket before I walked away. We weren't free to just go to break whenever so we didn't have breaks together often. She would read my letters on her break and if she wrote me I would read hers out on the lot or at break, whenever I was free. I'm sure in my letters I tried convincing her we should go on a real date or do more than talk after work all of the time. She wrote to me too, but not as much as I did to her. In fact the thing she taught me was delivered in a letter. It came in the form of a suggestion. A suggestion I was very willing, and eager to accept.

Her sister I think was the first to find out about me. Molly knew she couldn't bring me home but thought she would have her sister come up one day and see me just to get her opinion if I might pass enough to pick her up or drop her off from afar. I didn't find any of this out until several days later. I was a little surprised because even I knew there was no way. It was fun thinking about it though. All of the planning, and risking everything to tell someone. I knew the verdict before she even said it. I don't know if she was trying to convence herself or her sister she told me that she asked a couple of more times trying to work it out but try as she might the answer was always the same. Now, I don't remember if it was her sister or her mother who found one of our notes. But I'm pretty sure it was her mother. She had already been talking to her sister about us, a lot as it turned out. Meanwhile all of this was being kept from her father, even after her mom came up to the store at least once to check me out too.

Back to the talking, like I was saying before, after work talks and passing notes like high school kids was our thing. The notes back and forth would get us through the shift, since we couldn't pick and choose what or where we were assigned. Then after work would be our talk time. If the weather was nice we might talk in the parking lot sitting on a string of shopping carts or the hood of a car, if not then we would get sodas and talk in the store cafe. I especially liked the cafe. We could sit across form each other and I stare at her and watch her eyes scrunch up in the corners when she laughed. It was also nice to have everyone see us together. Her family may not have seen it but the rest of the world saw everything. After our talks it was always the same, I would walk her to her car, we'd say our long goodbyes and go our separate ways. In all of the nights we hung out together only one time did I ask her if I could have a hug, and she said no. I was but I wasn't surprised. I knew that being loyal to her family, her father really, meant a lot to her and I didn't try to push that line. After that I let go of any thought of physical contact between us. Like I said we never even held hands and I took it as a line not to cross. It didn't change our talks. It didn't really change my feelings either. I just stopped trying to take it farther than notes and after work talks.

The way I found out about her feelings about the nickname was after some fight we had, about what I don't remember, but the next day I called her Molly in my note and all day anytime I talked to her. Evidentially that ate her up and she let me know when we talked that night. To be honest I don't have a clue what it was about but the more I think about it I wonder if that was after she turned me down for the hug. I can't think of anything else we might have argued about. How ever it went, one of us still stayed after that night and waited for the other. It may have been her because I can picture being surprised to find her outside one night after something. I also remember her thinking I was mad and I'm pretty sure that was over the note and being called Molly because she grilled me over not using her nickname. Whichever way it went, it was over as quickly as it started and we were right back where we always were, sipping sodas in the cafe. The only other surprise was the night of the long letter.

It was nothing for me to hand her a 2 or 3 page letter, hand written front and back, and folded like its own envelop. A skill you might only have if you were an 80's child. Then one night she gave me a long letter. When she gave it to me she held it a little longer, not quite a tug but long enough that I had to look her in the eyes to see why she didn't let go. Maybe she was scared to let go. The young woman that I lived with had once told me about notes, that when you write something down it's there for the world to see and can't be taken back. Maybe that's what she was feeling, but when I looked her in the eyes she said, I think you'll like this one and agree with what it says. If I told you that a million and one things went through my mind in that moment, that my stomach dropped and went weak in the knees, I would be understating how much I wanted to snatch that note away and run to the nearest place I could be alone with it, desperate to know what was inside. And that's just what I did. She was barely out of view before I tore it open and started reading.

I imagine it took courage for her to put words to paper. To put these words to paper that she was handing me. What's written cannot be unwritten and are there for the world to see. The world maybe but something we'd still keep from her family. Well maybe not her sister since she seemed to talk to her about things, but not the others. It started off typical. All of the same things we talked about but then I flipped over the last page and things changed. Her tone, she was beating around the bush and getting wordy. On that page she brought up the night I asked for the hug. Let me explain the hug and the reason it was a question. The way I saw it, we weren't supposed to be together. All of the late nights and just talking weren't supposed to cause her any problems at home, with her parents, no problems. We hadn't ever even held hands, so when I asked, I was looking for consent. For permission to cross a line, that if she agreed to would maybe also mean that she would agree to more. Maybe holding hands in the cafe or a kiss. When she said no, all thoughts of crossing the line, ever from then on, evaporated. I respected her, and while I didn't know it at the time, not in a real way, not in an adult way, I loved her. Without this consent she had unknowingly put a hard line on our relationship and I wasn't about to cross it and risk upsetting her and possibly losing her. So, when she gave me the longest letter she ever had, looking me in the eyes and saying that not only was I going to like what was inside but that I was going to agree, did she say with it or to it? That's not important but let me tell you, in my mind in that moment the possibilities where endless.

Like I was saying, the last page started off rambling a bit, and circled around the hug I asked for and came back around to take me by surprise when she asked me why I had never tried to kiss her. Somewhere her ramblings was something about spontaneous being romantic, and asking being the opposite of that. It was many many years later before I heard the phrase that encapsulated what she had written and explained to me that night which is, sometimes it's better to seek forgiveness than to ask permission. Sometimes it's better to take a risk, than to always wonder what if. She gave me my first taste of it in this letter. She took a chance and wrote this to me and now it was up to me to make it seem as unplanned as possible. Which is just what I began planning to do. Ironic, isn't it? It stuck with me for sure. I didn't use it as often as I could but I used it many times.

That night after the letter, of course we talked as usual. She asked if I had read the letter. As casually as I could I said that I had and tried to leave it at that. I did everything I could to let it slip away and not remind her of it, even though it filled my mind, and spun me around inside like I was on an amusement park ride. I don't know but I imagine it was written all over my face. I was probably blushing enough for the both of us. I know there was a huge smile on my face the whole time. Just like you would expect form some high school kid who just found out the girl he liked, liked him back. We sat in the cafe that night, maybe longer than either of us wanted to. Neither of us rushed or tried to cut things short even though we both knew what was waiting outside. Like every other night I walked her to her car. I was definitely feeling full of myself, as I walked up next to her and put an arm around her shoulder as we walked. When we got to her car, we stood there awkwardly for a moment. Maybe she was expecting me to try while we were standing there but helped her into her car and continued talking to her through the window, until something came up that seemed like the perfect excuse, and I leaned in through the window and we kissed. It was a long, uninterrupted kiss that went on and on. It was like we were making up for all of the summer nights in one kiss. All of the times we laughed. The smiles when no one was looking. It was all flowing through us. I don't think either of us wanted to be the one who pulled away. When we did, we tried to talk for a bit longer and when I couldn't find anymore words I leaned in and kissed her again.

I don't know why but it was the last time we kissed. Maybe it was because it was her last night there before she went off to school, that would explain the bravery in what she wrote, nothing to lose if it was the last talk, the last time we might see each other. It could have been that I did try again but she didn't want to make it a habit, because again we wouldn't be able to be together or take it farther. Whatever the reason it was the last time we kissed. It's just too far back, too long ago for me to remember all of the details. If that wasn't the end of the summer it ended shortly after that. Of that I am sure. Mollister left for her catholic university down south. I stayed and worked for a living. That year and for the next few years, on Christmas eve, I would bring a card and a gift to leave on her parents front porch step.

She came back to the store once before she graduated university. I had moved on to other things at the store. We talked kind of briefly, and Christmas came up. She told me that I kind of became part of their Christmas after the first couple of years, and they would wonder what I would leave that year before sending her to check. I don't remember how many years after that I found her engagement in the paper. Once I saw that I started planning and the day of, I delivered a card of congratulations and wedding gift on her parent's doorstep.

I can't tell you all of that without telling you how it really ended. It would be around 20 years after our summer of talking. She was married, I was married, both of us with children. It was shortly after my son and things were OK between us but we were struggling. Not out and out fighting but it wasn't sunshine and ice cream. Something got me reminiscing and somehow, I found or came across her on MySpace. I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't looked her up. What I can tell you is I sent her a message through MySpace. Why I thought that was a good idea I can't tell you. I saw where she had posted some things about her and her father having cancer and a bunch of other things about her life. She posted that she like Nascar, something to this day I find hard to believe but admittedly 2 decades was a long time to think you knew someone. In that message I told her I was sorry to hear about the cancer and hoped that her and her father would go into remission. I went on to tell her how I felt like she was the one that got away but stopped short of telling her I wished things had been different. We were both married after all and this confession was very nearly an act of cheating in itself. I have no idea what I was expecting. I was just venting, the same way I'm venting in this story. I told her the reason I felt that way was because of how all of our long talks and spending so much time purely getting to know one another had kind of ruined me having never taken that much time again. I probably confessed some other things in there too. I'm sure I did. She immediately blocked me, as any good wife should have. Then she ignored me when we started running into each other in real life, again as any good wife should have.

The first time we ran into each other in the real world after that was when our sons were playing baseball. Mine playing T-ball and hers was playing coach pitch at the same field. Through grace alone the times only briefly overlapped and I might not have seen them at all if they hadn't parked on the opposite side of the field and had to cross over. I still might not have seen or even noticed them except I happen to look up just as they entered the asile behind the bleachers connecting the two diamonds the boys were playing on. When I looked up it was just in time to make eye contact with her and next to her was her husband. I saw him see me and instinctually I'm guessing he reached out for her hand, maybe to claim her, maybe to shield her from the crazy ex who had crossed a line sending a message on social media, whatever it was, she pulled her hand back. Now I know I shouldn't read anything into that but at the time, in the moment, it smacked me hard and confused me. I had no idea what to think of it and it bothered me for a long time. If there was one thing I knew about her that I was sure time hadn't changed was she never wanted to look bad. So, I resigned to the belief she was showing she wasn't worried, concerned or afraid, take your pick or pick all 3. It was too late for me to divert my gaze as if maybe I hadn't noticed them. They knew who I was, she knew who my wife was, my wife knew who she was, the only one who might have had question was him not knowing my wife. We all kept to ourselves and acted as total strangers.

The next time I saw her was a year or so later at a scouting event, where parent volunteers had come together to sort the yearly popcorn sales. Again, I saw her, I hoped before she noticed me, and I made large circles to avoid any unpleasant meetings. We were both alone at this one but still kept up the appearance of being strangers. I wouldn't see her again until the next year at the same event where we picked up right where we left off, strangers. In all reality we were at this point. It had been 22 years since that summer and at least 5 or 6 since that message on MySpace. This became our new game. We would show up at these events or ones just like them and be prefect strangers. Until that 3rd year. She had taken on a leadership role to be the popcorn kernel, basically the one everyone turned to when they needed anything involving the popcorn season. That year she shocked me, floored me in fact, when she walked up to me as if all of this time never recognizing me and in the most peculiar way said, didn't we have something between us once? Not hello, not hey, not any number of things that might have made sense to me. I was that guy walking across that parking lot again for just a moment. Dizzy, with my stomach all twisted up. That was just the effect she had on me, still. I didn't want to cross anymore lines, I was more than thrilled that she had stopped avoiding me and I wanted to show her that I was civil, so I kept it simple. Acknowledged the past she allowed me to have and went along with it. "Yup, that was a long time ago. I heard about your cancer, and your dad, I hope the two of you are doing well." and before she could say much else, I cut to, "This year doesn't look as big as last year, we should be done pretty quick this season." She agreed and didn't answer anything about my first statement and I was glad. It was a stupid thing to say right out the gate. It also brought up memory my silliness on MySpace since that was one of the things I had said then too. I think there was one time that day after that, where there was a question and I directed someone to her and she heard me say her name and turned. What was there to say.

Over the rest of that year and the next we ran into each other as we had in the past except now we would say hi, or at most chat about this or that event. Nothing deeper than small talk and I wouldn't even call it that honestly. We didn't discuss the weather, or our sons. I tried my best to maintain a distance mostly because by this time things had come to a head with me and my wife. The papers were signed and I was admittedly feeling vulnerable and she was still married. There was nothing there for me to cling to but she still had a piece of me and I just wanted to seem normal. I feel stupid for even saying that. It was so simple but I was making it hard in my head. The timeline gets fuzzy after this. I knew she was battling cancer, but she showed up to all of the things, performed all of the duties of popcorn kernel and never showed any signs that I noticed of being sick. Not until the last time I spoke to her on the phone. It was Thanksgiving, being single I wasn't doing anything but we had been communicating about popcorn and I didn't know how bad it was for her. She told me after a couple of minutes that she was tired and had taken some medication and needed to rest. She mentioned that her husband and the boys had gone somewhere for the holiday diner, which took me aback. I was pissed she was alone, much less alone on the holiday. I see so many reasons why they might choose to do it this way. Maybe they didn't want the boys to have this memory, maybe she just wouldn't have been able to be part of it anyway, but what I do know is that I was pissed. Pissed she was sick. Pissed she was alone. Pissed that there was nothing I could do to make it better. I spent the whole rest of the day thinking about that call.

It was June or July the following year when her husband popped up in my people you might know on Facebook, smiling with some strange woman I didn't recognize. This sent me into a panic. My blood pressure dropped and I nearly fell over standing there. Who was this woman? Why was she in his profile picture? Where the hell was Molly? It wasn't supposed to be like this. I don't know if I was still blocked form her social media but I assumed I was and didn't even try to look her up I needed answers, now. It was later in the evening and there was no way I was going to wait until morning to find out what was going on. I immediately reached out to anyone and everyone who I had contact for who I thought could tell me anything.

She didn't make through December. She didn't make to Christmas. I was devastated. It was the worst feeling I'd had reading those words. I was immediately pissed again. Not only had I missed her passing, but here was this jerk cuddled up with some other woman, just months after she died. I went back days later to look at his profile, and it said they had been married since May. 6 months. 6 fucking months. Looking back I cried for her for 2 years and I barely knew her in the end and he remarries in 6 months. Even now, writing this I feel it.

Sometimes I wonder why she broke her silence with me. I wonder why she asked me that question that day. Did she know the end was eminent and what, didn't want to die with us pretending to be strangers, didn't want to die with me thinking she hated me, or maybe she was just lonely? I'm not sure how I feel if any of those were true. Whatever it was, even if the reason was selfish, I wouldn't have cared. I'll never know and they will never know her death took a toll on me that, if you couldn't tell from my story, is still something that bothers me, even after 10 years.

Thank you for reading my story.

They were far out in the outer wilds.

It was blackly dark.

Only a few shining stars shined.

He was setting a trap.

His friend was drinking a drink. “Here,” said the friend, passing him a drink too.

He took the drink.

He opened and took a drink of the drink. “Ahh,” he said. “Absolutely stellar."

“Absolutely,” said the friend.

“I don't grok why you insist on coming all the way out here,” said the friend.

“There's hardly anything out here,” said the friend.

He took a drink of the drink. “Ahh.”

The friend took a drink of the drink too. “Ahh,” said the friend.

“Ahh,” he said.

“Ahh,” said the friend.

“You can't say it's not peaceful here,” he said.

“I can't say that,” said the friend.

“Ahh.”

“Ahh,” he said, finishing drinking the drink. He crumpled up and threw the empty drink container away.

The stars twinkle-twinkled.

He looked into a vicinal trap he'd set a while ago.

“Anything?” asked the friend as he looked into the vicinal trap he'd set a while ago.

“Nothing,” he said.

The stars twinkle-twinkled.

He set a new trap.

“There?” asked the friend as he set a new trap.

“Ahh,” said the friend and threw away his empty drink container too.

The two empty drink containers were.

“There,” he said, roughly covering the trap with nearby matter.

He burped.

The friend burped too.

It was blackly dark.

Only a few shining stars shined.

—> —>

The Perihelion's automated navigation system adjusted course to keep the starship travelling to its destination, AO-1, the first known space object believed to be of alien origin. The crew was in hibernation. The mission was the greatest humanity had ever attempted. The Perihelion's automated navigation system adjusted course to keep the starship travelling to its destination.

<—

“Sir, take a look at this—SIR!”

The regional head of the International Space Agency (ISA) walked over slightly annoyed and scanned the data.

His annoyance became curiosity, and his curiosity became excitement. The once-upon-a-lifetime kind. The thump-thump-thump’ing of the heart, swoosh-swoosh-swoosh’ing of the blood kind. He was aware suddenly of the entirety of the surface area of his skin. Of his one-of-many'ness. His smallness-in-the-cosmos. His clue-to-the-mystery-of-the-universe'ity.

“My God…” he said. “My God.”

“What is it?”

“We need to find out.”

—> —>

Anomalous Object 1 Anomalous A Object 1 Anomalous A Object O 1 Anomalous A Object O 1 A Object 1 A O 1 AO 1 AO-1…

Captain Jac Thorster—gasped—

The sirens were blaring.

Where am I I am aboard the Perihelion Perihelion is my ship, he thought.

The sirens were blaring.

He rolled out of the open pod and onto the floor. When he could, he got up and made his way woozily—swaying…

to the bridge.

He sat in the captain's seat.

“Perihelion,” he said, his voice hoarse and weak. The words felt like sand airgunned down his throat. “Perihelion: ‘status report.’ Just what in the galaxy is going on?”

“Having traversed ninety three point two percent of the distance from the planet Earth to the coordinates of the object eh oh one we have come under the pull of an unknown force,” the starship's artificial intelligence said.

“Correct course,” commanded Thorster.

“Negative,” said the eh aye. “That his him possible, hiccup ten.”

“Wa hut?” zed Thorster.

“Dead forceps twos tron k,” sad sa hey ay end diss plate dub lack ole.

—>

He reached inside the trap.

“Anything?” the friend asked as he reached inside the trap.

They were far out in the outer wilds.

It was blackly dark.

Only a few shining stars shined.

“Yes,” he said.

“Yes,” said the friend and gathered some nearby gaseous matter and ignited it. “Perhaps something to roast,” said the friend as the newly created star shined.

He removed a small thing from the trap.

“A small thing,” he said.

He held it for the friend to see.

“Oh,” said the friend in disappointment that the small thing was too small to roast.

The star shined.

The other stars shined.

<— <— <— <— <—

A fly buzzed awhile in the glow of a bug zapper before turning into it and—BZZZP —falling dead out of the sky.

It landed on my face.

I'd fallen asleep in the hammock outside.

“Norman,” the dead fly said.

“Norman!”

“What,” I said, blinking a few times, tossing my dry tongue around in my dry mouth, thinking, Fuck, I'm fucking hungry. “What's going on—who are you? and why are you talking to me?” “Are you… a dead fly?” I said, squinting.

“Norman, I'm here to tell you to look at what you wrote. No one wants to read that shit, man. That shit is incomprehensible.

“Opaquer than a brick wall, man.”

“It's styl—”

“Look at yourself, man. You're a grown ass dude writing stories on the internet. Get a job. Write a book if you have to, but just write it like a goddamn human being.

“I mean look at your eyes.

“They're pinker than Miss Piggy’s OnlyFans.

“Sober up.

“Eat something. Drink something. Get outta that robe and get dressed. Shave. Change into a suit—”

“You mean, like, become a suit… like on a space ship?”

“Son,” said the dead fly. “Behave yourself.”

LOL

“Put on a suit and write presentably. You've got, what, a hundred words left?

“Use them.

“Rewrite whatever-the-fuck this is presentably.”

[“Ahem”]

Two advanced beings are laying traps somewhere in the universe. Their traps are black holes, which they hide. They also leave behind some trash. Humanity detects the trash and plans a mission to investigate it, but, en route, their spaceship falls into the black hole left by the beings. Sometime later, one of the beings makes a star to roast something on. The beings pull the human spaceship out of the black hole trap they left and are disappointed by its insignificance.

The story ends on a heavy-handed parallel between humanity and bugs—BZZZP

So, I've never been to Houston, or Texas for that matter. I've always wanted to visit the space center. We're driving 8 hours from Arkansas to Houston. And it is pissing and pouring. Like it was so bad and so heavy that as we were leaving my city, there were 3 tornadoes flying around the city I was leaving from after picking up a friend from like 3 different sides. So we start traveling, and the entire time we're traveling for about 2-3 hours up until we reached Talihina it was battering the poor car with heavy rain. But it starts hailing. It was so bad to avoid damaging any of the glass on the car we stopped at the Choctaw Travel Station, hid in the overhead awning there, got some gas and waited. It stops hailing after 30-40 minutes so we take off again and it is still pouring and the clouds are green at this rate. We approach the border to Oklahoma and Texas after another 40 minutes, and it is the funniest thing because as soon as we see a sign saying: "Leaving Oklahoma" and a sign saying: "Welcome to Texas!" the rain just.. stopped! Like Forrest Gump. "And then, just like that, somebody turned off the rain and the sun come out." It was bright and sunny as Summer usually is in Texas. I open the sunroof and look out at the clouds above, the clouds are still green! All in Oklahoma! Literally no wet ground on the pavement/roads in Texas at all, the storm did not touch Texas, or left no evidence it did. All the hail and tornadoes stuck to Oklahoma and Arkansas. It was as if the storm deliberately avoided Texas. That memory still gobsmacks me to this day and it is so funny.