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Thedude3445
Emotions. Those things were a useless construct created by the patriarchy to control how we acted and reacted to events both within and without our control. Now they are useless. We have our base desires, but emotions are not any of them.
“Hmmm…” I went, seeing the MRI. “Hmmm….”
“This does… not look like something I entirely understand.”
I didn’t entirely understand the MRI, and as such, I went “Hmm…”
(Hey, I actually wrote something!)
“Howdy, kids! It’s me, your pal Cow Cow!” said Cow Cow the Cartoon Cow to nobody in particular as he jigged a merry jig across the rolling green pastures of McCormick Farms, leaping between the smelly piles of hide and fat that were the other cattle. “I’m here to teach y’all about friendship!”
The other cows didn’t make eye contact with the frolicking bovine, but not out of annoyance or spite. They were simply too stupid to know or care about how absurd it was that there was a cow dancing on its hind legs and singing. They just looked off with a glazed over, wall-eyed stare, chewing their cud and occasionally letting out a moo or a puff of gas. Farmer McCormick was making his weekly rounds, checking every other cow or so for any defects or disease. He’d inspect their gums, check for any cuts or other surface symptoms and, when everything appeared to be in working order, he would let them return to grazing. He ran a pretty tight ship, so there were very few times that he had to call in a vet to patch up one of the animals… or a more drastic solution. Today, however, was the exception. Read more
“I’ll have the sauteed salmon with dill butter.” Madeline folded up her menu and passed it to the waitress.
“Alrighty, that comes with a soup or salad. Which one can I get you, hon?”
“Hmmm, I’m not sure. We’ve never been here before. What do you recommend?”
“Oh, I always recommend the soup. The soup is good! It’s honestly my favorite thing on the menu.”
“Wow, high praise! It’s decided, then.”
“Excellent choice, ma’am. You won’t be disappointed.” The waitress shifted her focus to Harold, who was still grimacing at the entrees section. “And you, hon?”
“Gimmie a minute. Still trying to figure out what I want.”
Skin flaps curl over
Your hands, nubs with knuckles
A crescent moon atop your head
The balloon on your chin squeezed against the frame
And a lime-green loaf of bread behind
Your head.
You wish it ended with something happening
It never does, and your blue semicircles know it.
Just do it, in a goatee.
“I don’t like it,” Chuck said.
The caricature artist shrugged. “No refunds, sorry. Take it or leave it, I don’t care.”
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