Wild Card

by Elsie Silver

And for what it’s worth, when doomsday hits, he’s not invited to my bunker. But you are.”

What a bizarre little man.

I love Clyde

“I brought you flowers.” His gaze flicks to the vase of cheerful, yellow daffodils, soft pink ranunculus, and deep purple hyacinths in my hand. “For what? I didn’t do anything.” “You didn’t die. Congratulations. A huge accomplishment,”

With every word he says, my agitation builds. Partly because I’m realizing that my son might be a bit of a douchebag.

“Fair. Not my monkeys, not my circus.” Then I turn to Clyde and point. “You are my monkey,

There’s nothing like being asked out by your ex-boyfriend in front of his dad, who you were making out with not twelve hours earlier.

Bash: I wanted to give you guys space. Gwen: Oh, fuck off. You’re being a petty little bitch. Just admit it.

I don’t want to be that guy. I don’t want to accuse her of those things, so I give them a very dry “Surprise!” “Oh boy,” Clyde grumbles. “Trouble in paradise. I’m getting the fuck out of here.” He moves past me with a slap on the shoulder and then disappears down the hallway.

Nothing quite like being congratulated by an actual professional athlete for winning a small-town men’s bowling league.