A Short Story

The angry B’s closed in from all sides. Nine travelers whimpered, “Is this the end?” “No,  you little apostrophe, of course it’s not,” muttered I. The B’s were now only meters away. “This is it,”screamed C wildly. M broke down, “WHO”S GONNA FEED MY BABY UMLAUTS WHEN I’M GONE!” S, T and U hushed him…

How to Cry, Macho Style.

To weep, or not to weep, that is the question. Most people never now the outcome of this supposed “Fate-bringer” until it’s directly upon you like, say, white on rice. In order to look awesome while weeping over that roadkill, you are going to need help. You’re welcome. Use a handkerchief. But not that stupid…