That One Girl in High School | 1. Cemetary Desecration
“Who is the artist?” Mongoloid stood at the front of the bus like some sort of inbred Tennessee prosecutor and lifted the drawing so everyone could see. He pinched the evidence like it was a flattened squirrel carcass he’d peeled off the highway. His voice sounded like that of someone straining on the toilet.
Read the rest of this entry »That One Girl in High School | 2. Death by Mazda
I was twenty-five, a college drop-out working a nowhere job, without a care in the world. I was head-over-heels for a cute, blue-eyed natural blonde, a few months into her 18th year. It was the night of her prom; she would be graduating in a couple of months. She had her dad’s Mazda that night. I don’t remember what model, but it was big and maroon and quiet. Her dad was a psychiatrist and he didn’t exactly approve of our relationship. He said the age difference bothered him, but the fact I was going nowhere in life and happy as a lark about it probably had something to do with it. Anyway, her mom liked me and if mom’s on your side, you’re cool.
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