Silly Little Story
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Now the story I’m about to tell you took place a long time ago in a city far, far away. Actually I’m lying, I know, I know, starting a story with a lie is a terrible way to drag you in, but it sounded so good in my head and I just had to use…
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To say my brother and I have had an eventful life would be putting it bluntly, you could say it started when we first escaped our mother’s womb, nine weeks earlier than planned. For that we spent the next three months in the intensive care unit of the baby’s ward at St Alban Children’s Hospital.…
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The small house shakes violently and Ollie tumbles off the couch and crashes into a pile of beer cans that litter the floor, he scrambles to his feet and looks around the room as everything vibrates vigorously, photos crash to the ground, furniture jitters around the room and the first thought that goes through Ollie’s…
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Stay classy, what the fuck is it supposed to mean? I mean seriously, when some fucking numb skull gives you a wink and says, stay classy kid, how the fuck are you supposed to take it? OK, I guess to really understand it’s meaning you really have to know what sort of situation it was…
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He swings the shovel violently towards the two men, and blood and dirt flicks off the blade and splashes into the wet ground with the rain. “I told you to go, I won’t tell you again!” He yells. “Samuel, son, for fuck sake, she gone, it’s not her anymore. You have to let us do…