I typed a full page of stories that sort of connect. However, I feel a few of them are just tangled pop songs so I'll print the first two stories that are more literary. Oh what the hell, I'll excerpt one as well. Things are best in threes.
I
I decided to go back home to find my ex-wife. When I arrived, a young girl ran up to me wearing one of my wife's dresses. It was lavender and swooshed around her pale legs. I looked at her with a sense of confusion. She glared back with a sense of entitlement. She tapped her foot as her long black hair got in her eyes. I couldn't help but smile. I knew, given the chance, I would spoil this young thing to no end. Who am I to say she can't be a mortician? She turned her back on me and ran away, cross armed, cold hearted. I stood there, still smiling. It didn't bother me being snubbed by a snot nose kid.
II
I met a men who claimed to be a famous paint-by-numbers painter. He didn't think it was out of the ordinary but I thought it was out of the ordinary. I told him that my mother bought a paint-by-numbers kit the day I left home. I told him she never completed it. He asked me what it was a painting of. I said some mill I had never seen before. He made a face like he was about to swallow and said he probably did that one. I said it only made leaving more painful.
III
Oh we danced when the man told us to kiss. There is no other moment in life where we are required to kiss and dance. We might as well make the best of it. Didn't need to tell you twice. Now we tell all the folks back home that we got married. They all smile and think it was tender. We know it was a riot.
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