carter bought a bunch of lemons because they were on sale. we have four bags of lemons. what the hell am i supposed to do with all these lemons? they’re gonna go bad, i have to use them before they go bad. i have to start making all of these dishes with lemons in them and drink lemon water and make lemon sorbet or something. carter does this all the damn time, always impulse buying. it drives me insane. remember when he bought all that rhubarb and suddenly we’re eating strawberry rhubarb pie every night for two months? two months! that is way too much time to be eating any kind of pie, much less the same flavor, every day. i’m going to talk to him. i have to talk to him about it. he gets on woot every day and sometimes i’ll come home and there will be like five iphones and i’ll be like “carter why did you buy five iphones?” and he says, “they were on sale on woot” and i’m like “what are you going to do with five iphones?” and he’s like “sell them” and i’m like “you just bought them from an overstock company, are the refurbished?” and he’s like “ahem, factory reconditioned” and i’m like “whatever, they’re too old and you’re not going to make any money!” and then these five iphone 4s or whatever just sit on ebay for two months until he gets mad and takes them off. there is a drawer in his study that is full of old phones, i swear to god. he’s a good man but he just buys a lot of really dumb shit sometimes. so anyway that’s why you have two lemon wedges in your hefeweisen, because god damn it i have to use up all these lemons!
Category: writing
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186: roger (the bro and the groom)
hey, come here. come here. sit down. let me talk to you. listen to me okay? you can’t just run away from this, man. that’s the love of your life out there, she’s waiting for you, you can’t get cold feet at this point. look, i know you don’t get a lot of real help from us when it comes to marriage. you’re friends with a bunch of drunk bachelors, i get it. i know it. every night when i come home from work and i crack open a beer i feel another day of my life slough off like dead skin. i stare at the TV screen like a drone, a, a, a creature designed to work and sleep. when you can carla got together we made fun of you because we’re all jealous, or at the very least, see, when something good happens to someone, especially a friend of yours, it automatically makes you think about your own life. it’s impossible not to. when kenny stopped drinking we all thought about our drinking habits, remember? and then we made a conscious decision to keep drinking and smoking and fucking around. so when you met carla we suddenly had to think about our own lives. and yeah we gave you shit, because it’s easier to give you shit than clean up our acts. if anything you should be giving us shit. but now you’re getting married and you should be getting married, no matter what ted or patrick say. carla is a wonderful woman and perfect for you. the rest of us are just sad that we’re not going to see you as much, and frustrated because of course we have to start going to the gym and shit like that. so do not use any of our opinions to adjust your position here, okay man? you get out there and you marry that woman. we’ll be fine. we’ll be fine.
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185: corus (one for many)
nobody wants this. nobody is happy about this. but of all the possibilities we currently have, this plan is the only one that’s going to work. that’s it. end of story. so you’re welcome to complain but you’re outnumbered and they are coming and we don’t have a lot of time. i highly recommend all of you get this bullshit out of your system before we head out, by the way. you’re going to need all of your senses ready when we leave. got it? look, i’m one of you, i know the world is all fucked up, but we have to make small sacrifices in order to protect the group. this creates the least amount of trouble and saves the most amount of people, and if we’re lucky, jaden’s plan will even get us out of the city, but it all hinges on this. so get in here and grab a stick. let’s get it over with, we don’t have much time. smallest one wins. loses. whatever. and if you lose please do not freak out, there are guards near enough, they will hear you and they will kill all of us, you understand? and remember this is not punishment! this is a small sacrifice for the greater good! you will be forever in our minds as the martyr who died so that we could all live. it is the greatest sacrifice any one of us could make. you will be known as a hero for centuries to come, that i will promise you!
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184: helen (kevin's big d)
kevin, i love you a lot but your dick is too big. i just, i have to say it. it’s like getting fucked by the fat end of a baseball bat. it hurts! wipe that pride off your face, asshole, this is a big deal. my shit tears up when you fuck me and then one wrong move with the bathroom and toilet paper and i’ve got an infection. and then you’re out of sex for a few weeks while i heal up. how do you like that? you can’t just jackhammer me in doggy, you can’t, i know that’s what porn looks like but, no, no, that’s not acceptable in real life. it hurts in the morning and then i’m pissed at you all day while i shift awkwardly in my chair at work. you gotta start watching those porns where they’re softer, more mellow. stop watching nacho vidal rip open a lady’s asshole with his thermos-sized cock. and no, you are no nacho vidal, okay? we have to go slower, you have to give my pussy some time to relax, okay? i’m surprised no other woman has given you this talk, kevin. it’s kind of a big deal. a huge deal. okay not a huge deal, don’t–look it’s not great to have a big dick man! it’s not great! it’s great for pornography because it’s easier to see on screen, but you by far have the biggest dick i’ve ever sat on and it’s so big it’s making me reconsider childbirth, okay? let’s go get some burritos.
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183: chuck (destitute)
i’ve been destitute for a long time. the sidewalk just feels like home at this point. sun, rain, snow, it doesn’t matter, i’ll find a way to sleep. i’ve had people shout at me, people actually throw their change in my face. one time a rich guy, or at least he looked rich, he pulled a money clip from his pocket, pulled out a twenty dollar bill, and, i’m not shitting you, he threw it into the gutter right next to me. just tossed it like it was nothing. i scrambled to get it but at that time i was drunk, high, or withdrawing hard most of the time so my reflexes weren’t that great. i try not to sit next to gutters anymore.
vagrants these days, they have all these funny signs. “need weed money,” or shit like that. one lady a few blocks from me, well, i should say, it’s a whole family. dad, mom, and their kid. cute kid. the family was nice too, genuinely sobered up but destitute, you know, so they have this sign, i can’t remember exactly what it said but basically they take the money they earn and go stay at a hotel at night, and the next morning they tape the new receipt to their sign. they’re like, “here, here’s proof that we’re trying.” so you got that and you got the guys with signs like “i just need a beer” or whatever. trying to be funny.
the funny ones piss me off. they ain’t really broke. you’ll see ’em walk to a car, drive off somewhere. they’re just fucking around. keeping guys like me from getting a fair shot. but that’s what the world’s like isn’t it. same template as the rich, just set on the poor.
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182: folgeir, paladin of doren (pt 2)
i have traveled the world and back and still will never find a stew made as delicious as that samantha terwin. she must put some kind of faerie magic in there, no matter where i am i crave it. ah, so very delicious…
so, where was i? oh yes! betrayal. the worst kind of betrayal, the kind that comes from your best friend. the wizard had become the sorceress, the descendant of a long line of sorcerers bound by the ancient green dragon’s blood pact. the sorceress explained how she had been in search of the dragon for centuries (she was an elf, i suppose i should mention that), and that when the tremor split the land in kostor in twain, she was certain that the dragon that crawled out from the fracture was indeed her ancestor. she had been using us all this time as vessels to help her in this search! every night she pretended to study her spellbook, she had all this knowledge of the different schools of wizardry, she was nearly pedantic in her knowledge. but she looked and played the part perfectly. her spellbook, we later found out, was filled with random notes, drawings, and scribbles.
the dragon ordered us killed right then and there. she was not one for gabbing about her plans for world domination. as the sorceress raised her arms to deliver a killing blow of magic, her eyes caught mine, and even though she was a dragonborn now and no longer an elf, i could see in her eyes a pang of regret, small as it may be. we had traveled together for nearly ten years, and we all but friends. i had told her my darkest secrets and she told me hers, or at least all but one. i would even go so far as to say, at one point in our travels, i loved her … for a brief moment, maybe a year at most. adventuring is a lonely business, little ones, so it’s nice to have some companionship. she didn’t feel the same way. about us, i mean. anyway.
the moment our eyes met felt like an eternity. her spell kept me and my associates from moving. i could feel the air sizzle as her magic began to manipulate the air around us. i prayed to enfyenda for guidance, for help, for anything that could get us out of this mess. and then, out of seemingly thin air, came out help–tully, the little rogue halfling, leapt onto the sorceress’ back and put a dagger blade against her throat. he must have been hiding the entire time! he whispered something to her, something i’ll never know, before he cut her throat. the dragon was furious and spit hot acid at tully, which hit him and the sorceress. i watched them both dissolve away as the bonds of her spell disappeared and allowed me movement. the next few moments were a blur: gojen sprinted at the dragon while i unleashed a spell to keep him protected. then i attacked as well. leyva kept us inspired while she weaved her special bardic magic, and the three of us fought that dragon with all of our might, so much so that i was afraid we would cause another earthquake. in the end, i was the only one to make it out alive, barely. my friends, that i had been traveling with for so long, all dead. the dragon was dead too, and i helped the people of kostor haul its body and its treasure hoard. took us nearly six months to excavate it all and get it out from the depths.
after that, i knew my adventuring days were over. i was getting older and wanted to rest and enjoy my life, and never see another friend dissolved by acid from a giant dragon. once we finished cutting up the dragon and selling the scales to smiths for armor, i was given a generous portion to take with me. but i gave most of it away to the poor on my journey back here, to doren, my home. i was born and raised here, did you know that? and one day i met a young paladin preaching the gospel of enfyenda, which is when i knew what i would be one day.
so that’s it, that’s my story. the last adventure i ever went on. the adventure that killed all my friends. i … guess i didn’t realize how morbid it would be, really.
[sighs softly] i’m tired. come help me up, sam’s stew is making me drowsy. i think it’s time for this old dwarf to head to bed. come on, let’s go kids. i’ll tell you a more upbeat story next time, i promise…
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181: folgeir, paladin of doren (pt 1)
you never give it up. ever. your body becomes old, frail, you find aches and pains where once there were none, your eyes dim, your hearing is replaced by little annoying hairs, but despite all that, you never give it up. from the moment i was given the holy symbol of our goddess of the north, the beautiful enfyenda, until i exhale my last dying breath, i am a sworn paladin in the service of the gods. yes, now, i reside here in doren, retired, in a way. hobbling on this old cane, teaching youngsters like you the ways of adventuring. but if word were to come from on high requesting me to fight or defend, may the goddess have mercy on those who wronged her. for i am a paladin, and i am the defender of those without agency.
so yes, young ones, despite my frailty i am still imbued with divine ichor, which flows through my blood and gives me power when i seek it. but i do not seek it any longer, not actively. no, my days traveling the world are long gone. shall i tell you of my last valiant battle? of course, of course. this is a tale better spoken by my dear friend leyva the bard, who played so gracefully upon her harp as she sung this story into being, welling the eyes of everyone with tears as she performed. alas, she is gone, given the gift of human mortality by her god yalga the bowyer. i had lived twice as long as her before we had ever met. she … was a good human.
but i digress. the tale of the dragon! my colleagues and i had adventured for nearly a decade together, braving forests, mountains, oceans, rivers, jungles, and even a brief trip into another dimension. yes! i will tell that story another time. doren is very secluded from civilization; i’m sure many of you are chomping at the bit to leave this dusty old village and travel to a city like altavir, the crystal shield. i have been to altavir, and kostor, and hen, and the wailing spires. i have seen sirens bathing in the streams. i have defeated devil and demon alike. i have done all of this because adventuring is a dead man’s game, and thus my friends and i were a prized commodity, especially in our later years. and so it was on this particular hot summer day, during a period of downtime–unusual for us–that we were summoned to the briar queen’s chamber in kostor to alleviate a particularly nasty dragon problem the citizens there had been facing.
like i said, adventurers are few and far between, and those who choose the lifestyle are often dead before they even know it. for a span there i was convinced we were the only adventurers in the entire world! regardless, the briar queen required our services, and quickly–she had a wizard conjure up a gateway between where we were and her royal chambers in kostor. there, she and her council explained the situation, which i will condense for your young minds: there was a dragon. a big one, an ancient green dragon which had been awakened after decades of slumber by a severe tremor which caused much of the earth to rend asunder, destroying several buildings in kostor and even collapsing part of their legendary wall surrounding the city. the dragon was roused and began causing more havoc against the people of kostor, destroying their farmland and spitting vile acid which ate away at everything it touched.
we were tasked with bringing the dragon down. the briar queen told us that the dragon had finally returned to its underground nest to rest for bit, but that it would return shortly. so we gathered up our weapons and armor, and our wizard ruminated on her best spells. leyva tuned her harp, the monk gojen meditated, i honed my sword and prayed to enfyenda for guidance, and tully the rogue practiced his sleight of hand. by nightfall we were off, spelunking down this enormous cavern that had opened up because of the tremor. inside were all sorts of monsters–enormous bugs, beetles, and vile creatures from the underdark like drow, ghouls, goblins, and more. but at this point they were like child’s play to us, and we toyed with them like you might toy with a field mouse nibbling on your grain before you feed it to the cat.
finally we reached the dragon’s lair. she was enormous, and her scales were embedded with so many jewels and gems that the wizard’s light made her entire body glint and glimmer. she was not asleep. rather, she was waiting for us. as i withdrew my sword to attack, she spoke. “i am lisandera,” she said, her voice low and gravelly. “i am the keeper of this land upon which you have built a great empire. that empire is mine, and i will rule it.” she hissed at us but did not move. despite our years of adventuring, we all knew not to head straight into battle. something was off about this. i tried to move closer to begin parleying but found that my body was rigid. “i can’t move!” i shouted, and the others announced the same. it was at this point that the wizard, whose vile name i dare not repeat ever again with this holy tongue, stepped in front of us. she walked to the dragon and turned to us. we had been betrayed! the wizard was a sorcerer, but had disguised herself as a wizard since the moment we met. now, she removed her guise, and we discovered that the ancient green dragon was in fact the progenitor of her ancestry! the sorceress laughed maniacally and we were certain of our doom.
[a loud clangy triangle sounds in the distance]
ah, is it supper time already? goodness. we shall have to pick up this story after i have eaten! [the children groan] oh, don’t worry, i shan’t forget you. now, somebody bring me my walking stick. and you, beatrice, help me up! i refuse to ever miss a good meal,not after being trapped in the ice caverns of north berteroy for nearly six months…
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180: ida the man killer
it would be terrible if i killed you, wouldn’t it? people would be upset. right? lots of people? your family at the very least. you have family? don’t talk i can’t understand you through the duct tape, dear. besides it’s a rhetorical question. i’m trying to make you remember your family. i want you to visualize them. what do they do? do they go to church? the mall? don’t answer, just think about it. visualize them, going to the mall. your mother finds a nice blouse at the gap. no … ross. no … marshall’s. yes, you look like your family shops at marshall’s. unfortunate. petty. unconcerned with fashion, simply looking for an okay piece of fabric to drape over their nude bodies. you look ashamed. that’s why i stripped you down, of course, because your shame, your pitiful face, it all gets me off. this knife i’m going to cut your throat with. all of it turns me on. judging by your flaccid dick i guess it doesn’t turn you on. unfortunate. the desire, the thrill is the best part. it gets my pussy all wet. i bet if we were in a different scenario you’d want to see my dripping wet pussy, wouldn’t you? you’d love to feel it slide over your rock hard dick. wouldn’t you? instead, i’m going to masturbate after i slit your throat and watch you bleed out. if you’re lucky you’ll be alive in time to hear me moan in ecstasy. oh god it riles me up just thinking about it.
do you have a wife? don’t answer. the mumbling, the moaning through the duct tape, it dries me up like a prune. it ruins everything. i don’t want to hear you talk, i only want to see you squirm. there you go. good work. now i imagine you have a wife and that she will be very upset to learn that you’re dead. you’re a handsome man, lean, fit, just enough chest hair to be manly but not too much, not sasquatchly. no receding hairline. i’d say before i realized how sexual killing men was for me i might have fucked your brains out in a seedy hotel room. it would be our little tryst, just you and me. maybe after a couple weeks of this i would call your house and just leave breathy voicemails on your answering machine for your wife to hear. then you have to shell out the money for a security system because she thinks someone’s out to kill your whole family, but you don’t have the balls to tell her you’re just fucking someone on the side. oh the things men will do to keep their mistresses.
you’re the fourth man i’ve killed. excuse me. you will be the fourth man i’ve killed. the first was my boyfriend, a wiry nerdy type who didn’t get out much. he was kinky, very into BDSM stuff, which of course was my preferred method of sexual encounters. he was a sub, too, very much so, and when i dominated him i dominated hard. i actually ruptured one of his testicles with my stiletto heel once. that was an interesting night at the ER. but god did i come so hard, i was shaking, shuddering on the ground, i was jerking off above him as i crushed his testicles with my heels, the front part at least. stomping and stomping and he was whimpering like a sad puppy dog, tears in his eyes, but he was still jizzing before i decided to use my stiletto. i missed the first time and heard him yelp, then the second, i don’t know how i did it but i pierced through his right ball. blood spurted everywhere, and he screamed, and i came so hard i fell onto the floor moaning. he screamed at me to call 911 but i could barely move, my legs were so rubbery. so he called. he crawled over to the telephone clutching his ball sack and called 911. he ended up losing that testicle. sex after that was boring unless pain was involved, specifically his pain. and one night i stabbed him in the chest. the next morning i knew that that was it. i had to kill men.
so now you’re here, and you’re probably terrified that i’m going to stab your balls or something. i’m not. your death will be quick and will be satisfying. it’s really just seeing your lack of control, your lack of agency, that makes me so wet. watching your eyes dart around the room as you look for a way out. you really think you can outwit me, don’t you. well let me tell you this, mister: you will never, ever outwit me, for as long as you live. [she laughs] the good news is at least you’ll get to see my naked before you go. if you’re lucky, i’ll even let you feel my tits. [laughs again] let’s get started.
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179: walter (the insufferable mess)
ninety percent of the time, i’m alone. this weekend i spent so much time playing a video game wherein i’m a farmer. it was this constant repetition–wake up, feed the animals, gather eggs, milk the cows and goats, then hop on my horse and harvest crops. by the time i was done it was about noon, game time, so i’d go off and fish or head into the mines to gather ore and defeat little slime monsters. i did this for my entire weekend. and i feel bad about it. and since i felt bad about it, i justified eating a load of junk food. a load. like i can put away a ton of junk food. and the thing is, when i do i gain some weight, sure, but it never looks like i’m overweight, so it doesn’t look like anything bad’s happening. since i can’t see anything, i keep going. it’s bad. it’s real bad. and then i feel bad for doing it and it’s this big long shame spiral. the worst is that i did so well. so well! for a whole week i was counting calories and hitting my mark and everything. then on saturday i decided i needed to “refeed,” or eat more calories on purpose to jumpstart my metabolism, blah blah blah, i ate everything in the universe.
but i spend so much of my time alone that i honestly don’t know what to do when i have someone who wants to be with me. i feel like fucking quasimodo or some shit. it’s like, why would you want to be with me, i literally can spend eight hours of my life pretending to be a farmer in a video game. now you come over and you want to do things, you want to be near me, you find what i say interesting. feels like a bubble waiting to pop. where’s the end, you know? i feel like an impostor around you, like i’m trying to be something i’m not. the truth is, i’m alone. a lot. and i’d like to be alone with you, if that’s something you’re interested in. and sometimes i want to be alone with you in the woods, and sometimes i want to be alone with you in a house where i play a video game for eight hours and you are there, doing your own work, creating your own things. playing your own video games. so if you’re the type who wants to run around outside constantly, i don’t know if i can give you that.
god, now i know why i’m alone, because i’m insufferable. i’m sorry. i’m an insufferable mess. i’m so nuanced with my needs and wants that i’ll never find any woman who will be able to satisfy all of them. you should probably go. you don’t want to be with a guy like me. i’m sad half the time, the other half i’m struggling to be content. i’m always quiet, i’m constantly writing or playing video games. yeah i’m fun in a crowd but it’s always so draining on me, plus lately i’ve been feeling alone even within a crowd, even among my own friends! how depressing. imagine dating me and having to deal with that shit. i’ll be fine for a couple weeks but once the infatuation wears off, i’ll be all moody because i don’t have this urge to recover my dopamine levels; instead i just wallow in self-pity. you should go, before i reveal myself to be even more of a wreck. plenty of fish in the sea, right? and i’m a fucking sea cucumber or something equally gross.
please, i know my neuroticism can be kind of funny but i’m not being funny right now. i’m wallowing in depression. festering in it. i’m like the hull of a ship bedecked with ancient barnacles too old to scrape off. i have dry skin and the flakes are depression. i sneeze and my snot is depression. i take a shit and that’s depression falling out of my asshole. you don’t want this. look at me for chrissakes, wrapped in an old sleeping bag because i can barely get out of bed. this is not the person for you, i promise. doesn’t matter what i create, it’s not worth your time, okay? no self-respecting woman would ever waste her time with a guy like me. and you are self-respecting. i see it in your face, in the kindness of your eyes. that’s the trap, you know. you are self-respecting and you’re kind and you’re generous, so i see it, that deep-seated desire to help me. but you can’t, and you shouldn’t. you should leave right now, just leave me be and move on. nothing good will come of you staying here. nothing.
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178: amber (off the pills)
i tried calling dad again today. third time’s the charm. his voicemail is full, probably from all of us. at this point it’s probably not a good idea to call anymore, but i can’t help it. he’s our dad. he’s dead but at least he has a voicemail box. i wanted to remind him about that time we went camping and he kept telling us there was a monster in the lake. remember that? and there was that floating log out there that he kept insisting was a monster. you were like “why would a monster just sit there?” that was such a great trip. i remember the wind was so loud, rustling through all the trees and grass. it was a real windstorm out there. getting the tents to stay put and lighting the charcoal for the grill … it was a hassle but it was worth it. it was all worth it.
listen, jake, i know i seem a little frazzled but i’m okay. really. yes, i threw away my pills, yes i’m out of my apartment, but i’m okay. i met this guy, not like a guy i’m fucking or anything, his name’s george and he taught me this meditation technique that i’ve been using and it’s really helping me get clarity into my life. now instead of worrying whenever i close my eyes, i just imagine a serene beach, just me alone with the warmth and the sand and the palm trees. i also take some herbal supplements and some vitamin D supplements. george has been my rock and i am so appreciative of him. he’s let me sleep on his futon while i get my stuff together. i’ve been going to job interviews, i’m not drinking any more. life is good. george is helping me out a lot. i swear he’s like a sponsor, he’s not, we haven’t had sex or kissed or anything. he doesn’t mean anything to me like that. he’s like a mentor, that’s it, a mentor. he helps me get through the day.
you know … fuck you jake. i know you think i’m a nutball but i’m your fucking sister, okay? i’m both. i’m nuts and i’m your sister, so you owe me some compassion right now. i know you think calling dad is a weird thing to do but it makes me feel good. it just does. i wish i could delete his voicemails though. maybe mom knows how to do it. either way, i’m trying not to hide away in my pills and my overgrown sadness, and the last thing i need is for you to ruin it with your disapproving looks. yeah you just keep stirring that pasta, i’ll just lay on the couch and meditate.
the greatest thing about george is that he’s never judgmental, not like you jake. he takes the time to listen to me. every night we have an actual authentic japanese tea ceremony, to help us calm down from the day. well, we don’t have the clothing, but everything else is done just like the japanese do. and then he gives me a half-hour massage twice a week, he’s so good with his hands. it’s so nice to have a platonic friend in the house, someone who really cares about me, who doesn’t just want to rip my clothes off and ravish me in the bedroom…
jake are you even listening to me? i’m trying to tell you i’m happy and that i don’t need antipsychotics anymore. i flushed them down the toilet a month ago and i’ve never had to look back. just because i call dad three times a day doesn’t mean i’m, you know, dealing with it anymore. that part of my life is over. me calling dad isn’t part of that, okay? i mean it’s not like i’m expecting him to answer. i just wish i could talk to him. but i know the difference! i’m not crazy anymore, i swear. so you can talk to me whenever you fucking want. just go right on and open your mouth and let some words come out.
[she gets up from the couch. heads to the kitchen. jake is stirring.]
there’s nothing in the pot, jake, why are you… oh. fuck. fuck fuck god damn it. jake. jake listen to me. i’m not crazy jake, you have to believe me. jake. jake! this is not a hallucination, amber, you’re just fine, you just, just, you need to get out of here and get back to george. you have to get out of this apartment. just go. go!
[she gathers her things up and quickly exits.]