Month: November 2017

Breakup Text #3 – I Know

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A new writing series highlighting the ways we say goodbye to one another. 250 words or less. Sometimes, that is all it takes. These stories are works of fiction. Some are inspired by real events. [Main Page]

“You’re stupid fucking game is CLEARLY more important than us.” Rose stared straight at him. She wore a form-fitting dress and heels. Her makeup looked impeccable. She even wore the new skimpy pair of underwear from Victoria’s Secret for a “just in case” scenario. Her boyfriend clearly forgot that it was date night.

Jim sat there, feigning interest in the conversation. He still wore the sweatpants and stained sweatshirt he put on the minute he got home from work an hour ago. Why was she bothering him? After all, these rebel scum are not going to die without the help of his upgraded Darth Vader character avatar. He already maxed out all his characters with weapons and upgrades. This was his time to shine.

“Fuck you, Jim. I hope you enjoy your game, asshole.” She slammed the door shut, rattling the adjacent wall where is limited edition Empire Strikes Back movie poster. She continued to yell in the hallway. A minute later, her Honda Civic sputtered to life, zooming to a galaxy far, far way. He didn’t need to know it was over. He could feel her hate flowing through him.

Jim paused the game and walked to the poster, fixing it straight. He knew the mistake he just made, powerless to do anything. He stared at the door and wiped away a solid tear, holding back the full emotion. He could use that in his next few rounds. “I know,” he said and unpaused the game.

Breakup Text # 2 – Come All Ye Faithful

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A new writing series highlighting the ways we say goodbye to one another. 250 words or less. Sometimes, that is all it takes. These stories are works of fiction. Some are inspired by real events. [Main Page]

It’s not easy being told that your girlfriend of five years wants to break up with you, especially if you’re in the middle of cumming on her face.

Everything seemed to be great. We could anticipate each other’s moves. So why the fuck did I not see this coming? She told me she loved me in my car LESS THAN AN HOUR before she broke the bad news.

Here’s how it went down:

After we got home, we started getting frisky. She was finishing going down on me, stroking me off to finish the job. She always did it this way because it’s how I liked it. Soon my breathing became labored, and I readied myself for the climax. Just as I was about to give my last measure of devotion, she looked up at me (not stopping, mind you) and said, “I think I want to break up.”

What. The. Fuck.

At first, I thought she was lying, but her face said it all. I wanted to stop, but it was too late. I simultaneously ejaculated into her hair while barely getting out a look of overwhelming confusion, anger, and sadness. After cleaning up and talking, she left an hour later.

We did fuck again a few times after the breakup. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t bad. It was just sex. Every time we finished, she gave me the same look she gave me that day. That look said it all: I could never REALLY love you.

Commercial Breaks

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I could hear them screaming
as the bulkheads began
to unfasten

where is God when the masses
are thrown out to salt shake
for your own
past mistakes?

But hey –
the telephone bill is cheaper
and by this time next year,
we’ll all be rich or dead
and thank Christ for that.

I’m too tired to wait for either;
these commercial breaks take too long
man.

Breakup Text #1: Egyptian Cotton Sheets

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A new writing series highlighting the ways we say goodbye to one another. 250 words or less. Sometimes, that is all it takes. These stories are works of fiction. Some are inspired by real events. [Main Page]

“Then what the fuck are we doing here, Christine?” Paul was at his wit’s end. He didn’t know how to express how frustrated he was with her. He instinctively opened and closed his fists while he yelled at her, but thought better of it to act in the moment. She looked at him with a puzzled expression. The mascara ran down her cheeks, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Answer me,” he said. His tone was firm, but he had at least stopped clenching his fists.

“I don’t know,” she said. I need more time. She did her best to look at him in the eyes. He never hit her before. She was worried he’d do it now. After all, if she told him the truth, it would crush him. She could tell he was more embarrassed than angry. Some serious macho bullshit bravado was on full display in their cramped apartment bedroom.

“I don’t have time. All I have is work and the answers to questions you’ve left unanswered for three months now.” He pointed at her as he gaveled his words. The spit flew out of his mouth onto the sheets they received as a wedding gift just six months ago.

She couldn’t tell him that the love was gone a long time ago. How long she could not tell. Sometime between the wedding ceremony and opening their wedding gifts. She wondered how long returns were for thousand-count Egyptian cotton sheets. She still had the receipt tucked away.