The Shorcut_Cigarettes: A Romance_Devil's Brew_To the Ends of the Earth
Catalog Guide:
The Shorcut
THE SHORTCUTHe can’t believe it. There is traffic on this road. He pounds his fist into the steering wheel and brakes to a full stop. There has never been traffic on this road. That’s why he deemed it a shortcut. Nobody knows about this shortcut. “I hate traffic!” His eyes get wide, and his mouth drops open as he realizes he did tell that cute girl at the party the other night. Looking at himself in the rearview he rolls eyes at himself and smacks his forehead with his palm. “Oh my god! I knew I shouldn’t have had that third drink. She probably wasn’t even th...
Cigarettes: A Romance
I remember our first cigarettes together were Rothmans, middle tar, with a filter, of course. It was ten o’clock on a Saturday night and we were attending a local church’s youth club disco. I recall that she’d gone outside for a breath of air.God, I could do with a gasper, she’d said, avoiding my gaze, as if we were www.onedoor.ccon stage and I’d forgotten my lines while searching for a prop. I groped around inside my jacket for my pack of Rothmans. My awkward fumbling attracted her attention, and she smiled as I raised my head. She moved closer and caught my eye as I flipped the lid to reveal a double row ...
Devil's Brew
(Content Warning: Crude Humor, Mild Language.)Thick steam filled the great chamber in the Unholy Kingdom as Satan stirred his cauldron. The shadow of his silhouette danced along the blood-soaked walls like a Cirque du Soleil performer. His red skin glistened in the twinkling light of the fiery flames revealing a masculine boulder-like body that was chiseled from stone. Satan’s thick black curvy horns looked like trumpets from a grand orchestra, and his dark fingernails tapped his trident with great fervor as he mixed the ingredients together. His forked tongue darted in and out, eager for a ta...
To the Ends of the Earth
“I must have the worst luck in the world,” the exasperated Steve Williams moans to himself. “How did I get myself into this mess?” he grumbles under his breath, continuing his conversation with himself, as he awaits the approaching officer that he spies in the side mirror of his 2013 red Honda Accord. He tries to think of some positive thought to comfort himself with, but he knows this doesn’t look good for him. “I’m not built for prison. I don’t think I can survive it,” he thinks, getting more worried with each step the motorcycle police officer makes in the direction of his parked vehicle.St...