“What a nice break from crimefighting, Superman! I appreciate you suggesting it.”
“You’re welcome! I thought we could both use a well-deserved break, Batman. How is your strawberry ice cream?”
“So refreshing, reminds me of the homemade ice cream my grandmother used to make. You know in those old-style crank barrels.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember those!”
A drone was approaching in the distance, still out of sight, but Batman heard it. He didn’t want to worry Superman, but he slowly turned his smile serious. His hatred of crime was legendary. However, he got seriously pissed getting interrupted eating ice cream.
The firework’s showcase of colors and sparks proved to be a legendary show; the crowd erupted with spontaneous cheers after each rocket.
The food vendor heats his popular fare while keeping his eyes on the sky, the explosives rising, creating a perfect ring of flashing lights. He decided that he would feature a specially named hot dog in the future, which would capture the magic of fireworks.
He didn’t think he was far off with this sale’s idea of a new dress-up on an old favorite that would rekindle a feeling of nostalgia even when there were no fireworks present.
With a tight grip on the flashlight, I pushed open the door. The creaking would unhinge even the strongest of thrill-seekers. Stepping inside the room, every hair on my head stood at attention, my breathing stilled to small, rapid intakes of air. I was afraid. While my ears and eyes were laser-focused on the creepy surroundings, the nauseating stench of rot filled my nostrils.
I lost my ability to remain calm as the light beam revealed mountains of hacked-up bodies; blood trails everywhere.
“You’re next,” whispered the voice behind me.
I could only gurgle as the knife sliced my throat.
I enjoy serving food to my friends because that’s my love language. There’s such joy watching them eat, whether a full-on fish feast, steaks flame-broiled, or tasty desserts. There’s always something saved in my fridge for unexpected guests, usually still fresh, so no risk of food poisoning!
Tonight my friends and I are having Italian. I begin unraveling my apron strings when I hear the doorbell ring. With one quick spray of perfume, a pinch of the cheeks for color, I head towards the shadow at the front door.
“Hi! Come help me slide the pie off the pizza stone.“
The heat was terribly ferocious at the border. I wasn’t feeling effervescent any longer, not with sweat dripping out of every pore of my child-like, waifish body. It felt like my form was melting under this hot Texas sky. Oh, why did I choose to wear my finery of all days?
The guard accepted my ID card; all seemed to be in order. Next stop, my hotel! With the temperatures and my temper rising, I needed some air conditioning, like now!
I hope Juanita likes her surprise. The poor dear was so lost after the fire at her parent’s home.
The beam emanating from the virtual reality box looked almost as if the hologram was escaping. I turned to chase it and managed to bruise my leg on the side table in the process. This game, however thrilling, was a bit scary, though. I lost my balance hard that last scene. But the visual spectrum was amazing! Who cares that I’ve torn open a gash on my leg? Next time, I will remember just a slight tweak on the controls. This bundle of games was so worth it! Just remember to breathe, Cyril!
I began to pour the whiskey; the drought detrimentally hits my psyche. My melancholy was a symbol of how low things had gotten.
Yet, the history of farming has shown us we could still get a sign that things would get better; maybe we will eventually have a week of rain where our crops would thrive, and we could slide into the red with our harvest. Our human rights end as we want to experience them, end with the constant onslaught of a tested life, bringing hardship to the people. Thankfully, the government helps us during these crises with subsidies.
The incoming ethereal sounds almost felt like a game of pings bouncing off my glass psyche; I assumed it was playing tricks on me. With my stick in hand, each carefully laid tap on the ground produced reverberations that began to overshadow my conscious reality.
Oh, oh, my sugar must be getting low, was the last thought to myself which made any sense. The insulin shock to my system was giving wickedshots to my brain but numbing me nonetheless. I didn’t even feel the rock splitting open my head as the fleeting thoughts of reality bounded around my skull.
There was a bounty on my disheveled head, and time was running out. Oh, to be back in college for the chase of knowledge instead, where placing parenthetical citations after each quote in essays was the most exciting experience of the day. Odds were I’d not live to see tomorrow, my escapades exposed and open for the world to see. His men would comefor me despite this torrential rain. Shivering, with only a lit candle wick for warmth and light, the grounds beneath my feet shook—thunder unleashing havoc overhead.
I so wished I’d never gotten involved with the cartel.
Anyone who can’t have fun in Florida, well, something is wrong with them. Fun-loving girls and boys galore on Spring Break makes it an adventure! Cliques immediately spring up and unify at the beach and hotel pools.
Drama eventually unfolds, the police arrive, people liehard, and some even run home to their mommas. The news which broke out in the middle of the day recently, a scandal, one could say, was unexpected though. No one, for a second, could believe it.
Apparently, one particular group from the Northeast used a spray tan before coming down to the sunny state.