Boy, That Guy, I Tell You
He ruffles my feathers. He overcooks my sunny-side-up eggs. You know what I mean? Really Mondays my Garfield.
Lillie Franks is a trans author and teacher who lives in Chicago, Illinois with the best cats. You can read her work at places like Always Crashing, Poemeleon, and Drunk Monkeys or follow her on Twitter at @onyxaminedlife. She loves anything that is not the way it should be.
He ruffles my feathers. He overcooks my sunny-side-up eggs. You know what I mean? Really Mondays my Garfield.
I regret that I have but one chance to offer a high five to the executioner while I’m on the gallows and then say, "Hey, don’t leave me hanging!"
Goosebumps #11: The Currency Exchange For Monsters: Monsters Have Currency Exchanges, I Guess
Iced lava. Coal brew. There Was Blood, A Long Time Ago. Dinosaur Smoothie. Tyrannosaurus rocks. Triceratopped off.
Things were easier then. Parents were parents, children were children, and unlike today’s children, they didn’t grow into adults either.
I’m a different breed altogether. How will you catch a man who does his own research?
- Which do you love more: me or your idea of me? - Would you still love me if I were replaced, piece by piece, until nothing of my original self was left?
- An important work of literature is being discussed. You have not read it. - You are mostly silent.