The Interview

The floss digs in between your molars and jabs deep into your gums.  You struggle trying to pull it out.  “I can’t remember the last time I did this,” you say to yourself.  You spit, making a crimson line that beads down bowl of the sink.  You endure the mint flavor being wrung in and out, into deep cracks you didn’t know existed.  As you finish, you grit your teeth in the mirror.  There is a slight red spot right in between your two front teeth.  You run your tongue across the spot and hope that it will go unnoticed.

You brush and remember to go over your tongue more than usual.  You rinse and look up at the mirror to see a tiny black whisker growing out of your neck.  You grab the tweezers from your left, and guide the pincers to it.  The tweezers click a couple of times awkwardly before you can grasp it and yank it out. Continue reading “The Interview”

Mother of Mars now readable!

My pet writing project of the last few months has finally reached its final stages.  My book, Mother of Mars, is now available as a preview copy, in particular for all of my coworkers who have been asking to read it.  It still lacks cover art and definitely some editing that needs to come from someone else than me, but the story is all there.

Leaving the Earth to join the Mars Development Project was the hardest decision Cecil ever had to make.  After a freak accident leaves him debilitated and unable to fulfill his purpose, he falls into despair and must consider what he must do next.  Through the darkness, a voice calls out to him.  How will he respond?

Click here to read the whole story; let me know in the comments your feelings!  Ask for an autograph while you’re at it, you know, before I get big.

More of Trump’s Wall

So as to not lost interest in this writing project, here’s more!  Other stuff to come soon!

In my case, they figured any chance to return ‘home’ was better than living with my adopted parents, who obviously knew nothing of my heritage and how to conform to my needs and a young Hispanic man.  Granted, my parents shied away from anything remotely resembling a pepper and all around avoided any seasoning that had even a slight hint of red to it, but I barely knew better myself.  After all, I grew up eating Taco Bell because of my parents’ afore mentioned lack of taste buds.  I did try various things that were a mixed bag of flavors and textures that were foreign to me.

I visited several classmates’ houses over the course of my childhood.  I remember being invited in ardently by parents who immediately bombarded me with fast tongued Spanish, returning a blank look to them. My friends would eventually rush over and whisper something to their parent, probably explaining that I didn’t in fact speak Spanish.  I didn’t even really have an accent either.  Their parents would always blink at me a couple of times, and then totally switch gears.

Dinner at houses like these always had me guessing at what would be served.  Like I said, a mixed bag.  Who knew there were so many parts of a cow that could be eaten?  Not to mention some of these hardly resembled meat, and if they did they resembled no cuts I had ever seen.  Let’s not even go into the names I may or may not have been able to pronounce.  I remember coming back home, sometimes still hungry, and trying to describe what I had eaten to my parents.  “Is that supposed to be food?” they would say.  Sometimes, I didn’t know myself

Greasy fingers on the keyboard

If you ask me what I do professionally, remember that the term professional means that you get paid to do something.  I am a professional sandwich maker.

….

(Not a ‘sandwich artist’.  Only a certain chain calls their employees that.  I don’t work there.  It’s kind of silly anyways.)

 

I also write things.