Periodically, you'll see some random paragraph or short story. Do not be alarmed. I have not fallen off my rocker. I'm merely engaging in a little impromptu writing. Example:
"Promise me that you'll take care of my kids."
A sound like the crack of a whip caused the patrons of the quiet, local watering hole to look in their direction. Buddy rubbed his cheek, reddened from the slap.
"Knock it off," Helen snapped. "You're drunk, not dead. And come to think of it, you don't even have any kids, Buddy."
"I know," Buddy pouted, curling weathered fingers around the half empty mug. "But if I could do it all over again, I'd be sure to have a kid."
Helen pinched a Virginia Slim between her wrinkled lips, which were slathered in reddish-orange lipstick. "I think it's better this way," she said. "Your unborn children thanks a piece of shit like you for not fucking up their lives, too."
"Hey," Buddy protested meekly, his bushy gray eyebrows pulling together over faded blue eyes that were the color of old and worn denim.
A sigh of guilt, accompanied by curling blue smoke escaped Helen's lips. "Sorry, Buddy. That's not true. You'd be as good a father as any."
"Thank you," Buddy said indignantly and took another sip of lukewarm beer.
"I mean, even Michael Jackson managed to spawn," Helen shrugged. "At least you'd have the sense not to name your poor child something ridiculous like 'Blanket.'"
"Though come to think of it," Buddy interjected, clearly no longer listen to Helen's sarcastic musings, his voice filled with defeat. "I'm not that great of a human being. I mean, once, thirty years ago, I sat behind a woman in a snow storm and watched her struggle for forty five minutes to get her car unstuck without offering any help."
Helen lips twisted with disgust. "You really are a piece of shit."
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