Chances Of Dying Are Something Percent

My mother scares me when she drives. She drives like a frightened foreign woman from a country where men subdue women, and her nervousness makes me nervous.

Where we are now is heading north on Manheim Road in her tinfoil-on-wheels Hyundai. Where we are going is O’Hare International Airport.

Hashtag ORD.

I have not flown in 18 years, and all I can think about are television images of commercial airline wreckage scattered across fields like tornado debris. Continue reading “Chances Of Dying Are Something Percent”

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Serenity Interrupted

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Touchdown at O’Hare International Airport. White-knuckled the entire flight home from my vacation in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.

Fucking Chicago. She has opened her labia to ensnare me once again into her yeast-infected cooze. Continue reading “Serenity Interrupted”

Chances Of Dying Are Something Percent

My mother scares me when she drives. She drives like a frightened foreign woman from a country where men subdue women, and her nervousness makes me nervous.

Where we are now is heading north on Manheim Road in her tinfoil-on-wheels Hyundai. Where we are going is O’Hare International Airport.

Hashtag ORD.

I have not flown in 18 years, and all I can think about are television images of commercial airline wreckage scattered across fields like tornado debris. Continue reading “Chances Of Dying Are Something Percent”