You’re my favorite nephew, but I would like to set you on fire, tear off bits of your still burning flesh, and gnash them up in my teeth like hot jerky. Crucify you, I’d like to crucify you. Drink the blood from your — Am I speaking aloud right now?
I did not understand how mail worked because I hadn’t sent a letter since the one I wrote to The Goosebumps Fan Club Newsletter in elementary school. I applied to college online; I paid rent and utility bills online; I sent ecards, evites, and emails, but never actual physical mail.
Did you see all my new tweets? Seems like the quality of my tweets rises in direct correlation with the amount of free time I have. Like my tweets are so amazing at this point, I think I should publish them as a book of tweets called Brad’s Hilarious Tweets.
Recently, I asked a friend what the consensus about me was at that time, and she said, “We all seriously thought one day you might show up to school with a gun.” So let’s linger on that troubling revelation for a moment.
I’ve tried smoking a couple times, but it never clicked with me like other people. Veteran smokers would watch me inhale and say, “It’s not a breathalyzer test. Don’t suck on it like a helium balloon. You don’t need to puff out your cheeks like a chipmunk. Have you ever seen someone smoke? Like on TV?”
Occasionally, she leans in to try and kiss me, but I recoil, saying, “No! Does not want!”
The line between life and death for me is so blurred, so precarious, a gust of wind would loosen my soul’s grip on its vessel. Still, though it would be very easy, I urge you not to murder me.
I had just spent at least an hour watching her soul disintegrate before my eyes and couldn’t bear to witness the final nuclear meltdown. It made me feel bad and stuff. Like ew, gross, feelings are gross.
A photo of some acquaintance’s irrelevant child on Santa’s lap? Insert two kittens swatting each other with their tiny paws. In fact, paste them directly over the little boy’s dumb face. Enlarge them to cover Santa’s face too, to cover the sister standing nearby, to consume the entire photo — yessssss.
On the other hand, when couples argue, all that pragmatic rhetoric falls away, and what we’re left with is this: a contest to see who can say the most emotionally debilitating thing possible to the other person.