Only one of the giant mounted televisions didn’t have football on. It was the local weather station showing a map of the continental United States; an enormous comma of white was spinning and curling over the entirety of the map. Earlier in the day one of the CNN newscasters had termed the weather biblical in proportion. The snowfall for the Chicago area had risen from 22 to 25 inches in the short time Tommy had been sitting in his seat. Now, knowing he had to leave, he took his shot.
“You wanna meet up for coffee when you’re done?” A hopeful question left hanging in the air, a soft volley that Stephanie could have spiked in a second but let it linger. Finally she raised an eyebrow towards the window.
A Record For the Ages
By Wilt Chamberlain, entered the great pie in the sky, October 1999.
Hello ladies. It’s been a long time. Too long, you ask me. What you been up to girl? What? I been tryin’ to call you, I just been busy, you know. Well because I’m dead. You right baby, that ain’t no excuse for a man like me but I’m back now and I’m ready to give you that supernatural kinda loving I know you need. So just sit back, relax, and listen to Wilt wax all kinds of philosophical on you.
Gotta Love Those Texas Rangers, and Scotch
By President Lyndon Baines Johnson, passed into the loving embrace of our Lord, Jan. 1973
Used to be in my day, when I was among the living, on a hot Texas afternoon the best way to pass the time was to drive around in your ranch in a pimp-ass caddie, sipping Cutty Sark from a bottle of Coke. If you ran out your White House aide would just run inside and get you a refill. It was a wonderful way to beat that dry desert heat.
A whole lot has changed since that time. Nowadays that kind of behavior would be frowned upon for a President, so he has to find other more socially acceptable paths to leisure.
Slowly I began piecing the events of the evening back together. I drank so much of the cheap bourbon that at some point between midnight and 1am, I passed out. When I awoke around 2:30, the TV was still on, still playing the carnage in Haiti on a round-the-clock loop, still asking for donations. Donating [...]
The idea was simple enough; write a Young Adult novel and, given the timeliness of the idea, become an overnight success. I was going to be rich and famous, but more importantly, relevant.
Tragic Magic at Willy J By Tim Weaver Maria’s ass was so perfect that it surrounded her in a transparent, golden force field. Everybody at William Jefferson Clinton High wanted a piece of her. She strolled down the long, marble gray hallways of the school swinging what her mama gave her like it was a [...]