Conventional wisdom would dictate that potato chips were unlikely to lead a woman to her soulmate. But Sarah didn’t subscribe to conventional wisdom, nor did she eat conventional chips. Much like beer snobs only drank craft brews, she only ate artisanal chips. They were a thing. It was 2018, America was going to hell in handbasket, and people were finding solace in all sorts of small batch comforts.

If you were a hurricane hanging out with other hurricanes in hurricane heaven, you might get caught up in some interesting conversation. Hurricane So-And-So might say: “I made eight, EIGHT, different landfalls. I was fierce, boy. I was a baaaaaad storm.”

Republican Jesus rode into town on a beautiful Sunday on his brand-new luxury Mule-cedes. He had worked hard and deserved what got. Not everyone possessed his skills, like the totally earned water-walking ability. It was good to reap the benefits of his life.

I am pretty sure that I am invisible. As far back as I can remember this has been a goal of mine. Just think of the freedom, if you could be invisible for just one day just think of the wonder and freedom and all the things you could do.

The novelist sighed. Romance is the hardest genre, she thought as she stared at the white screen in front of her. It made her furious when people and so-called critics told her that romance was a genre reliant upon tired tropes and clichés. They were wrong. It was an art-form, a science. Scaring people? Easy! Making them laugh? Child’s play. Making them swoon with love and have horny dreams about being stolen away by pirates or marrying a billionaire? The most challenging task of all.