How do you write a good poem?
I literally googled 'octave'.
If only I could hire a gnome
so that I could write everyone's fave.
Alas, blank sheets I'll roam.
While in search of that inspirational knave.
Talent or muse or a kick to the dome
are the only things that can save
this poem.
&&&
I miss you
I miss your touch
I miss you so much
I know your stress
Has made you a mess
But I miss you nonetheless.
So there I was, no shit, in my electric boat with a shark swimming nearby. I'd heard about this scenario somewhere, but couldn't recall the exact specifics of the situation. In any case, a storm was raging, I was far from shore, and my emotional support llama was of absolutely no use.
In short, I was screwed.
It seemed like this was going to be a 'man versus' nature story with myself as the protagonist. Some real gritty stuff could happen - how would I weather the storm? Would I have to fix a leak in my boat as part of the road of trials? Would the third act be a confrontation with the shark where something set up earlier pays off? A new skill or tool or knowledge of myself?
John Jolie was pretty pickled. As he carefully navigated one more sip of beer to his lips, he reflected on what all had transpired that day - no, week - that had led him to this particular besotted condition.
"It all started Tuesday," he spoke to no one. "It was that fucking goat."
He was referring to a goat that had locked eyes with him on - you guessed it - Tuesday. By 'locked eyes with' I mean looked in his direction. Goats, with their rectangular pupils and approximately 320 degrees of vision, don't really 'lock eyes' with anyone. Regardless, the goat had pointed its head in Joh's direction and promptly died. It was a whole thing.
Shocked by this development, John had made his way to the farmhouse where he presumed the goat's owner lived. He'd knocked on the door and - having waited a few minutes - began writing a not on a scrap of paper mentioning the goat's demise. At the precise moment he reached out to wedge the note between the door and door jamb, the door opened.
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| Art by Ginnie |
Don't you love me?
Of course I love you.
I can tell when you're lying
No you can't - that's my special power.
I didn't mean it like that. I know you. I've known you for a long time now. I can't necessarily tell when others are lying, but you? I can tell when you're lying.
Ah, and?
And you don't love me anymore.
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| Art by Abe |
Brother!
Brother!
Tonight we dine in Valhalla!
Valhalla!
Yes, Brother. It is time to dine with our elders. To make good on our promises. To prove ourselves worthy of our family name.
Brother.
Brother?
What if we didn't?
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| Art by Matt |
"Look what I made," I said, holding my creation up for all to see.
Nobody seemed to notice.
"Look what I made!" I said a little more forcefully.
Again, nobody seemed to notice.
I went up to the nearest man and showed him my creation.
"Look what I made," I implored.
"Oh, nice," he said, looking at it for a mere moment.
"Do you like it?" I asked.
"Sure, it's great," he answered. "Now why don't you go show it to someone else."
Content Warning: a gory death
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| Art by Shane |
"Happy Burstday!" the crowd cheered at me.
"Thanks," I said. "But it's not my birthday?"
"Not his birthday! Not his birthday!" a smaller man with red hair and a green-and-yellow striped shirt cackled.
"Not his birthday!" the crowd echoed, then broke into laughter.
"I'm serious though! It's not my birthday!" I tried.
"We never said it was," answered the strange man.
"But you-"
"It's your BURST day!" the man said, grinning from ear to ear.
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| Art by AJ |
"I said 'get along little doggy'!"
"Yeah, and I asked 'how long?' I don't understand the confusion."
"No, it's just a saying, like 'move along' or 'hit the dusty trail'."
"And what does it have to do with dogs?"
"Nothing, I suppose. There aren't any reptiles involved in 'later alligator' or 'in a while, crocodile' phrases."
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| Art by Gabby |
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| Art by Bennett |
"Dick Tracy isn't just some party game, you know," Emily said, pointing at my crotch. "It's also a comic book and stuff."
"Watch," I said, pen in hand.
"I already saw!" Emily exclaimed.
"No, he had a watch. It was a radio or something too." I explained.
"Oh, true," Emily said. "That doesn't explain what you're doing."
"Nothing really - just following some advice I read in a book."
"Tyler, what was the title of this book?"
"Ten Ways to Ruin Your Life - why?"
