When Pop died, I stayed with my mama a little while. It was, essentially, the worst I have ever felt in my life, including that time my dog got hit by a car and the first (and only) time my heart was broken. The whole situation was worse than it should have been. Instead of me and Mama spending weeks moping and crying and reminiscing, we spent ( Read more... )

Point: I shouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning ( Read more... )

( I had something important to say, but this obviously takes precedent. )

He had quarter-sized bruises on his hips that I hated even though I was the one that put them there. It's one of the risks you run when you fuck a person within hours of your first meeting. You say your greetings, "Hi, how are you doing? My name is Matthew." and "Hello, Matthew, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." You start the inevitable ( Read more... )

I wish that I had never fired the cleaning lady. I never hired her in the first place, actually. Back when I first bought the ranch that I'm never at, it was essentially utilized to facilitate my own personal twenty-four hour party. There was never not a keg. I passed out dime bags like party favors, and there was debauchery that you wanted to see ( Read more... )

Now, more than ever, this seems appropriate ( Read more... )

At twenty-one, Sarah was a very agreeable young lady. In fact, it was the opinion of many that young Sarah resembled an attenuated Audrey Hepburn, minus the pin curls. She was fluent in French and she spent all her money hard-earned at her grocery store job on black eyeliner and smudged it over her eyes before she ever left the house, no excuses. ( Read more... )

Black ink on the outside of her right ankle. That might have been what first caught my attention. I'm a terrible klutz, see; my feet had inexplicably tripped me up and I'd fallen in a heap in front of her. There was that tattoo, that perplexing little mark over her skin. I didn't deliberate too much. That ankle was attached to the prettiest pair of ( Read more... )

"What kind of a name is Rooster, anyway ( Read more... )

I'm the youngest out of three boys, a position that earned me lots of ribbing throughout my childhood. My older brothers tended to stick together as they both seemed to be under the impression that my mother spoiled me rotten and my daddy was easier on me than them, which is probably about accurate. Because they would never include me when they ( Read more... )