Fifty Grades of Twilight Shade: Part 2

“You are not to see that man anymore! I know you find him fascinating because he’s aloof and mysterious and you want to save him from whatever past trauma makes him fear real intimacy. But you can’t be both lover and therapist to him, Darling. Especially since he desires neither! He doesn’t love you. He hardly sees you as a human being. You’re a toy for him to flaunt around town and abuse in his hideous sex dungeon. It’s essentially slavery, and you’re volunteering for it!”

“It’s all right, Dad. He’s a handsome billionaire.”

“Oh. In that case, have fun.”

Fifty Grades of Twilight Shade: Part 1

“You are not to see that boy again! If I can even call him that, at his age. He should have graduated years ago! Instead, he continually skips class and has no discernable future ahead of him. As if that weren’t bad enough, he stalks you, sneaks into your room to watch you sleep and has a disgusting fascination with your bodily fluids! I know you find him mysterious and alluring—a misunderstood loner who needs your love to save him. But this isn’t love, Darling. You’re obsessed, and dangerously so.”

“Relax, Dad. He’s a vampire.”

“Oh. All right, then.”

A Meaningless, Casual Sex Story

From the elevator to the hotel room, their hands and lips scarcely left some part of the other.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he murmured into her neck. “I don’t even know your name!”

“Just remember what we agreed,” she sighed, relishing what he was doing to her. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“I just hope my wife feels the same way,” he laughed.

She stopped him immediately. “You’re married?”

“Well, yes. Does that matter?”

“How could it not?”

Stepping back, he straightened his coat. “Then I’m out. You seem very confused about whether or not this actually means something.”

A Cat’s Day (in 100 Words)




What the *bleep* are you looking at?

Yawn. Stretch.

If you know what’s good for you, my food will be in my bowl when I get downstairs. Just saying.

Knead mattress.

I’m sorry. Did I awaken in some magical reality where my litter box cleans itself? No? Then why the *bleep* are you still in bed?


I should care that it’s Christmas because—? You know I’m a Satanist, right?


That’s better. You may now pet me four times.

Sit up.

Okay, down to business. How can I get that stupid mutt in trouble today?

A Dog’s Day (in 100 Words)

Yawn. Stretch. Morning! Love morning. Get up? No? Okay!

Now? Okay! Outside, please!

Food? Love food! Om-nom-nom-nom-nom.

Done! Time to lick genitals.

Play? Love play! Ball? Stick? Old sock? You pick! Love them all.

Hello, cat! Play? No? Okay! What’s that? Murder me in sleep? You joker!

Doorbell! Evil person! Yap-yap-yap-yap-yap-yap-yap-yap-yap-yap-yap-yap-yap. Run away, you *bleep* *bleeping* *bleep*—oh, Gary? Love Gary! Lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick.

In trouble? Why? Don’t remember doing that. Sure it wasn’t cat? Oh. So sorry! Lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick.

Other dog! Must sniff! Must hump! No? Why? Other dog wants humped. Trust me. Can tell.

Still no? Fine. Bedtime? Love bedtime! Night-night.