Same as it Ever Was_Cheap Beer_The Made Man_Used to it
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Same as it Ever Was
“Same as it Ever Was” By ten-fifteen Chaz had been walked around the office and introduced to most of his new colleagues. At every workstation and every office door they’d stop and Bob would say, “I’d like you to meet Chaz Phillips, our new Art Director.” And at each stop that introduction was followed by a “Nice to meet you, Chaz” and a not so subtle head to toe look-over from each employee. Chaz had long ago gotten used to that kind of thing. Unfortunately his extensive resume and education were quickly passed over and his hippie appearance became the focus of people’s attention. He’d heard ...
Cheap Beer
“Hey, Stick,” says Wally as we crowd around the back door of the bar. “Yeah?” I’ve gotten used to my new nickname by now, although it’s still a little weird to have my name be based off of my scrawniness. “You ever drunk anything?”“Nah,” I reply. “Never had the chance.”“You’ll like it,” he says, like he knows everything there is to know about me. “Burns a little at first, but you’ll like it.”“I bet.” The other guys in the gang - the Bronx Boys, they call themselves, but I think names like that are kinda stupid - shuffle their feet restlessly on the scuffed-up concrete. “Danny,” says Trent, “yo...
The Made Man
As the car barrelled down a grimy street more pothole than asphalt, Spill wondered how much bumping around the contents wedged into his trunk would feel. He also pondered about how breathable the burlap sack secured around said contentwww.onedoor.cc's head was.Spill half-squinted-half-winced and shook his head firmly, as if trying to dislodge the thoughts from his cerebral cortex. "No," he told himself, "I can't keep thinking this kinda shit. Gotta stay focussed - I'm so close." Paolo Salvatore Spillinghela was gifted his full name by his parents thirty-something year's prior, and the moniker "Spill" by the...
Used to it
A thick red liquid roll down to Evan's right cheek. He wiped it with his hand covered with bruises, and rub it between his fingers. The room was filled with his mother's chaotic and worried steps. Her breath was going off and on like nylon light that hangs on the kitchen ceiling. "What a poor child"she cried. His eyes were watching her as she displeased to the living room with the same worried steps. When she came back, she was carrying that box which he used to see in theses kind of situations. The box with the red cross. His mother Samantha, took a gaze and a bottle from the box. "Ouch!Mom i...