in memory of gregory hoblitt

A short story for mature readers.

“A celebration-of-life for a departed friend turns into a public spectacle.”

everyone hello, and good evening! i hope you are enjoying yourselves at my expense! for those who dont know, i am paul! yes, yes your applause pleases me greatly. thank you. once a year we open the manor to our closest friends in celebration! celebration of another year! another school year! another year of steves bald head so fucking shiny it looks like his moms waxed asshole! another year just to say we made it. we call this the long night! thank you, thank you, but remember this was a team effort. so from the bottom of my heart i want to thank each and every one of you, newbies included, for making the last four years devoid of any police intervention! as you all know i am not one to pass off an opportunity to get everyones attention and less likely to give it away once ive got it, so as you can see our good friend andrew is going around the room handing out shot glasses, you will want to keep those and a shot of warrens dads everclear brought to you in a stylish, glass gallon jug, just let me know when everyones set up. good? ok first a toast to the long night, to four successful years and, i hope whoever lives here in september can find their own thing because this night is ours! to the night!

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what do you feel like watching tonight?

new comic thing

A short story.


i dunno.

you never know.

i know i know, i’m just not a big tv watcher. you know that. youre lucky im still awake, im beat from working at the mill all day.

well here, give me the remote.

no you tell me what you want to watch and ill go to it.

i dont believe you!

come on why not?

you always do this, you say that i can pick and then i pick something and you say no!

what are you talking about, i never do that!

ok put on the new melissa mccarthy movie.

no no no

see? told you!

its just im allergic to bullshit.

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The Dream Diary: September 2016

we seek refuge in a confessional. on the internet you can be anybody you want to be. write with a pseudonym. be the racist young pornographer you can’t when you’re sixty and work the nine-to-five-am at mcdonalds. i’m twenty eight and it feels like i’m sixty sometimes, working the daily grind. can’t retire early. have to keep going. but i’m not sixty. and that naked maturity and illusion of experience betrays my own nature sometimes. i am a scared, wily man with the same issues that everyone else has. they are compounded as my own. everyones’ are. and it is in that selfish grey area where ignorance resides.

i’d like to think i’m not an ignorant person, only because of how strongly that word has been dissected in present day discussion. it is ignorant to assume anything about anyone without knowing them first. it is ignorant to have an opinion on something you know nothing about. but in the traditional sense of human kindness i am ignorant. because i have chosen to put myself in situations where philanthropy does not exist unless i myself will it to be. so i see the worst in people because the worst is all they have to give at the time. it goes back to the classic argument of whether people are good or evil by nature. blame the parents. blame myself. i’m sick of dealing with other people’s bullshit.

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