Sometimes I wish I was a flower so I can stifle a yawn without looking like I am having a stroke.
She looked extremely incorrect, mostly unhealthy. If anything, she looked horrific. She had the right-before-you-die-face. But yawning during a job interview was worse. Sharona Solommi was way over qualified and the wages were half of her usual earnings, but she needed this job.
Mr. Bosley Howell leaned over the desk and asked with rehearsed concern, “Are you okay, Ms. Solommi?”
The Volkswagen Karmann Ghia, all the style without any of the frills.
Rollo Decks sat in his dilapidated Karmann Ghia, watching, mostly waiting. He slowly opened the door, for any other approach would have surely unhinged it from the car. He walked up to a man walking a small dog. On closer inspection, it was a large cat.
“Excuse me. Question. You seem to lack intelligence. You have the gait of a wounded porcupine. You exude visible stink lines.”
Astrophysicist, Dr. Spé C. Hedd, paused. She nervously tapped her report on the podium. She looked at us, the science council, and we looked back. She cleared her throat as if to conclude her grave answer. Instead, she repeated herself. “Long ago, our instruments showed us that our solar system is only an atom in a greater universe! Our sun and its circling planets are to some larger cosmos merely the nucleus and electrons of a single atom.”*
Embarrassing story, true. When I was a kid, I was into Minnie Mouse, like really into her, until someone pointed out that if you take away the lashes, bow, and dress, she is actually Mickey Mouse, and ultimately a mouse. The harsh truth made me puke for three straight days. I still puke a little just thinking about it.
Minnie Mouse was done, as in she was absolutely fed up with this shit, all this shit. It is fortunate that she was unarmed, otherwise, she’d be surrounded by freshly shot corpses.
Her eyes were bloodshot. The thick veins obscured her pupils. You would think this is why she avoided sunlight, but the real reason was, it made her look eight to nine years older. She was fully conscious of how her flaring nostrils revealed a murder of crows’ feet around her eyes. Vanity has its price.