Kindergarten_Jax Buys A Ticket_Dust and Soot_A Picking Problem
Catalog Guide:
Kindergarten
I’ll be on the train. It’ll be an underground train, like the subway, but in an airport. One door is both the exit and entrance with a few people trickling in and out. The train’s name will be Bart and my father will have warned me about it. The train will have pastel colors of gum, crafted into inappropriate pictures of body parts and messages in another language. I’ll know that if I was in another world I’d call it art and take a photo to show my kids. I’ll be standing. Sucking on a mint and molding it to the shape of my tongue. Dust will be falling from the ceiling and landing on the cloth...
Jax Buys A Ticket
“Who are all these people? And why are most of them wearing cheap DayGlo hoodies?” Jax asked, pursing his lips in mild disgust.“Our fellow conference attendees are wearing Safe Hoodies,” Jillian explained carefully. “They are available in a variety of aura-lifting colors and body-acceptance sizes. Wearing Safe Hoodies shows our unity. We, as warrior-survivors, are in a safe place, safe just in ourselves.”“Oh hon, we are safely in Plano, Texas . . . The only crime in 70 square miles is that woman’s pantsuit,” Jax replied, looking down his nose, over his glasses. “Her choice of apparel is a felo...
Dust and Soot
I did not know what was going on when right before 9:00 in the morning our entire school building shook like we were having an earthquake. We heard a loud crashing noise and things fell off our tables around us. Our teacher told us to stay at our desks and continue working on our classwork and she would go find out what was going on. When she returned a few moments later we could all tell something was wrong because it was clear she had been crying and was trying not to scare us. She turned on the T.V. that was in the corner of the classroom and put it on the local news channel. None of us in...
A Picking Problem
1/01/21 A Picking Problem 11:00PMNew year, new me. Yeah right. With the year I’ve had, it’s hard to believe that any more muck can get caked onto the windshield of my car as I speed home down some back-country roads to a place I can only affectionately call Home. But where is Home these daywww.onedoor.ccs? I finger what can only be considered a scabby snail of blood clot out of my nose into a tissue—except I can’t find a tissue so I fling it out the window. But then my problem persists. I can breathe now that the little guy is gone, but he opened up a dam.“Damn…” I pinch my nose and think of how someone wo...