Wild Card

by Elsie Silver

And for my awful high school English teacher, Mr. C, who looked me in the eye at sixteen years old and told me I’d never be a good writer. Thanks for the motivation.

Oh fuck yeah

To the outside observer, it would appear that I’m staring at the guy I showed up here with. But they would be wrong. I’m staring at his dad.

Ayeee

Now and then, I get a message from him that says, “You still alive?” I give it a thumbs-up. And then, a couple of months later, I’ll check the standings on the WBRF website and give him shit for not being number one. I get back a “fuck you,” and I also give that a thumbs-up. It’s a solid relationship in my books.

What is it with old guys and the thumbs up emoji

West just laughs. He’s impossible to piss off. “Man, you’re even more miserable than usual. Were all your good moods in the kidney that you gave away? Are you stuck with the bitchy kidney?”

I have to love west

“Gwen, I just want you to know that if I were you, I’d fuck my ex-boyfriend’s dad, and I wouldn’t even feel bad about it because that other guy sounds like a fucking loser.”

“Fuck it,” I mutter.

AYEEEEEE

I love that big doofus like he’s my own, and to be frank, you’re feeling an awful lot like my second doofus.”

Doofi?

My jaw unhinges as I come to stand next to her, chin dropping in shock. He’s seated facing away from us, legs spread and in the air, with his arms hooked behind his knees. “What the fuck is he doing?” Gwen looks up at me, amusement dancing on her face. “Oh, that?” she replies with a little smirk. “He’s, uh…sunning his perineum.”

OLD MAN ASS

I keep my face impassive because as much as I love Clyde, I do not want to be like him. The world can only handle one Clyde.

“This is beautiful.” “Yeah. It is,” Bash agrees. But when I turn back to face him, he’s not looking out the window. He’s looking at me.

Knew it

Right now, we’re feeding raccoons.” Her eyes widen as I peel the foil back and reveal a tray covered in small bowls filled with different raccoon snacks. And yes, I spent the day researching on the internet to find out what they like to eat. “Is this…is this…” She leans closer, her fingers hovering just above the variety of food laid out. “Is this a raccoon charcuterie?”

Get you a guy who will make your raccoon a charcuterie

I feel a hand clamp onto my shoulder from behind and turn to see Emmett with a somber expression on his face. “Dude, go. I got this. You have zero game. If there’s a girl who actually likes you, you need to go find her.”

Emmett is a real homie

“You’re a fucking wild card.

You know I had to highlight the title

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