Doing time_Felt Like You Really Needed One_The Crumble Will Survive_A Long Ride
Catalog Guide:
Doing time
"Today, we are planting in two rows along this stretch. There will be ten trees in each row. You two will be working on this side." The Corrections Officer points to the other side of the road as we shuffle into our high-vis jackets beside a pick-up truck full of sad trees. The Officer continues in her monotone, "The tools are in the truck, and I'll be with you shortly to give you a short demonstration." Why does this Corrections lady presume that I wouldn't know how to plant a tree? Entitled prick! To be moderately fair to her, most people here look like they would have no idea, especially my...
Felt Like You Really Needed One
My vision starts misty and groggy; my focus fine-tuning with every blink. I’m on the couch, I’m still wearing jeans, what time is it, how much time have I lost now–?…I’m covered in Isaac’s weighted blanket. That asshole.He’s always insistent that I get a “good night’s sleep” upon coming home and taking a warm bath, like such a thing even exists in my line of work. I get it though, I do. Appreciate it.Still.My phone is face up, charging, and plugged into the nearby power strip. I reach over to grab it, but the blanket roughly rolls me out of bed, onto the floor, and into the world’s sweatiest m...
The Crumble Will Survive
My daughter Liz’s teacher sits in our kitchen, sipping tea, and coos in a Newcastle accent, “Paul Hollywood, Oh yes!”“Paul…,” I reply in a syrupy tone. “He just exudes manliness.” “He can bake my cake,” Catherine quips and we both break out into giggles.www.onedoor.ccA few minutes later I will stomp out after she says “Where I come from, Yorkshire Puddings are made with beef drippings”, and wonder if I have just ruined Liz’s school year at school over an argument about puddings.**I think back to moments earlier when things were going so well. I finished recording a flawless introduction video for Youtube, "...
A Long Ride
Sensitive content: Suicide, adult languageThe afternoon insects of summer were picking up intensity on their chorus as Sharon approached that same familiar, gut-clenching turnoff. Her heart fluttered as she steered, her ears beginning to roar almost loud enough to drown out the buggy thrums.“Don’t say I never did anything for you, big brother,” she mumbled. The car lurched up the steep, narrow driveway past the hideous sea foam green mailbox she’d always hated. Listening to her brakes squeal, she resisted the urge to spin a donut into Dina’s overly grassy yard and bust ass out of there. There...