I love you hot dog (part 3)

continued from here.

I felt like I was sitting there forever, I had no idea what to do.  So when I heard the familiar clip clop back into the men’s room, I figured it was just time to leave.  I got up and walked out of the stall and made eye contact with Martin for a second.  He looked at me, the stall and then the hot dog, and thought to say something about it, but I guess he was so confused or embarrassed he let it pass. Read the rest of this entry »

I love you hot dog (part 2).

Continued from here.

So as I’m staring at this hot dog, which has suddenly gone silent, I paused to look around.  Maybe I was on one of those prank shows.  People always seem really happy that they’ve been busted on a prank show, even when they look like total assholes, and I guess it’s ’cause of moments like these.  It would be so much better to find a recorder in the hot dog and look like an idiot on tv than the reality of actually talking to a talking hot dog.

But there are no camera crews, no Ashton Kutchers with his stupid trucker hats, just me, surrounded by a throng of business commuters. Read the rest of this entry »

I love you hot dog.

Yesterday, I was so hungry that I ran out and got a hot dog on my lunch break.  I’ve sort of stopped eating meat in the last few weeks, kind of as a default: most of my friends are vegan, so when you hang out with vegans, going to a restaurant that has steak is a little hard to stomach.  For me.  Out of guilt.  Not guilt for the anim-

Nevermind, I think you get what I mean.

Anyway, when I was on my lunch break at the ad agency I freelance for, I only had time to run out for a second, and the only thing close by was the hot dog vendor on 37th street.  But I was so greatful to even have that, I absentmindly said: “I love you hot dog,” because, well, just because.  But what was weird, is that the hot dog said: “I love you too,” which made me spit out the bite that I just ate. Read the rest of this entry »

covergirl.

15 minute Freewrite

Todd was walking by the university office when he looked up and saw a group of plants all pressed against the window.  He stopped for a moment, as if caught in a net.  Why did these plants seem to call out to him, he wondered.  He tried really hard to imagine what was on the other side of that window.  It looked so innoucous at first glance, but these plants clearly were put there by someone, possibly to make the room seem more cheery and now, here they were, choking off all of the light, wilting, trying, it seemed, to escape. Read the rest of this entry »

Drinking Slushies.

15 minute freewrite

by Chioke Nassor (obvi)

Ingrid is at the gas station somewhere outside of Boise.  It’s snowing  and cold, which makes sense in December.  She goes inside of the 7/11 and gets a slushy with the last of her change from the ashtray in the car.  A slushy in december is counter intuitive but who is gonna say anything to her?

This is Ingrid’s fourth trip out West, her second time during the winter, and her first trip alone.  After Kirk died, she thought it made sense to be here, on empty stretches of higways, listening to music loudly, eating shitty food, staying at motel 6’s, watching bad tv.  I’m the same way, I find it comforting to be surrounded by the exact same thing in different places. Read the rest of this entry »

cut off leg…tomorrow.

by Chioke Nassor (thanks Tavon!)

Mandy was tired of being accused of being lazy.  She was sick of having people make fun of how she could lay in bed all day eating Cheetos, watching The Hills. “I bet if I didn’t have a leg they’d treat me better,” she thought.  ”Yeah, if I didn’t have a leg, people would really be impressed with how much I’ve gotten done, I bet.  They’d probably see me watching tv, and think, look at her enjoy the little things.  She’s such a testament to the human spirit!”

Read the rest of this entry »

Do pirates dream of working in cubicles?

Do pirates dream of working in cubicles?

by Chioke Nassor

Did you know that pirates dream of working in office cubicles?  It’s a fact that, in between making people walk the plank, or during a hard day of scurvy having, they wistfully long to be in a temperature controlled room, with clean white walls, and no scurvy.

When pirates get into fights with their gay pirate lovers, frustrated about how small the deck has suddenly become, furious at Dennis for even looking at that stupid wench, they dream of getting water that doesn’t taste of brine from a water cooler, trading jokes about last nights Office. It’s what they fantasize about in their bunks when they wake up from fever dreams worried that Blackbeard will slit their throats in the middle of the night.

Oh, and for Halloween, pirates dream of a time where they can get dressed up in light comfortable linens that don’t smell like piss and beer instead of their itchy woolen pants, or worse, the eye patch that gives Martin a rash every time he wears it on land, (which incidentally is less about looking mean or fashionable and more to avoid making the prostitutes run and hide from his hideous monstrosity).  Did you know that?

Well it’s true.

freewrite 2/2/10

freewrite (15 minutes)

She sat in the back of the coffee shop reading a book, sipping on a tepid cup of tea. Her face was practically buried in that book, but in actuality, Melinda wasn’t really reading. She was trying to look busy, occupied when Sam showed up. Read the rest of this entry »