The Insurrection of Biscuits_You Said You Loved Me all the Way to Space_Two Men enter a bar_Promise
Catalog Guide:
The Insurrection of Biscuits
“I got chocolate chip.” The first little voice flittered out from the huddle at the edge of the school www.onedoor.ccyard. Then another and another and another. “I got Oreos. I had three but I already ate two. I still have one left, though. Tommy, what’d you bring?”Thomas was the largest and the loudest, a first among fourth-grade peers. “My mom made these the other day,” said he. “They’re her favorite but they have nuts and I hate nuts. I dropped in on the floor of the bus this morning and then I coughed on it. I knocked the dirt and hair off and now you can’t even tell. Look. Has anybody seen that little ...
You Said You Loved Me all the Way to Space
You Said Loved Me all the Way to Space9th of September 2019Hey Ty,I can’t stop thinking about yesterday, and the secret you told me. I know you meant it, I saw the way your eyes lit up, and you always tell the truth when you do that. What was going through your head, when you admitted it to me? Were you nervous? I bet on our nine-year friendship that you were. Your words continue to run through my head, much like your grandfather’s gramophone. It made my day, you know? I’m sure it would make any person’s day, maybe even someone’s week, if it was going horribly. Which mine wasn’t… if you were w...
Two Men enter a bar
Two Men In a Bar What can I get you? Bottle of Stella please I’ll just grab a sleeve of Lucky, and hey son can you stick on the Packers game? Yeah, just give me a sec, there you go guys, 2 beers You like that draft crap? And the Packers’, I don’t know, I might have to move, it could be catching. No one’s forcing you Settle pal, I’m just kidding, what’s eating you? Work, hate the bastard boss, go Pack! Hey, thanks for the beer, thanks for putting the game on. No prob, they’re a decent team, here’s some nuts for you two. So what’s your game? Where do you work? Acme ...
Promise
There’s a knock at the door and as hardly anyone visits me, I know exactly who it is. “Hey Damian”, Mr. Sharks, the postman barked. “Hi Mr. Sharks”. Mr. Sharks never drops letters in the mailbox, he prefers handing the letter personally to its recipient. He is short, fat and kind. He lost his family in a car crash twenty-two years ago. Currently, he lives alone in a small house. “Here is your letter”. “Thanks. How are you doing, by the way?”. “I’m fine, thank you. Have lots of letters to deliver, I’ll catch up with you later”. “Sure, have a good day”. I shut the door, made myself comfortable o...