I just came in to buy Nyquil. The good kind. The knock-you-on-your-ass kind they lock up because you can cook meth with it. The kind that costs ten bucks a bottle. The taste of social uprising I found in aisle six was free.

I let my mind wander, and it traveled to a distant parking lot with thousands of parked cars, one of which was mine.  But which one? My car was silver, but there were literally hundreds of silver cars.

Every member of this chatroom knows I write extremely graphic (but tasteful) Lord of the Rings erotic fan fiction. What most of you do not know is that, in case my apartment building burns down, I always carry a USB with my life’s work saved on it. And … yesterday … yesterday I lost the USB at a Baskin-Robbins.

Restless and ready as ever for my night’s walk
to his pleasurable lap. You would think by now,
his Antarctic heart would adapt
to the burning zeal of my wandering hands.

A string of tinsel killed my cat.
My grandma was to blame.