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From there, I’d pick up random trophies from garage sales or thrift shops any time something shitty happened. Fail my driving test? First place in shot put.
Don’t get asked to junior prom? All-star cast in one-act play. My father proposes to his mistress? Little league team champions.
It’s an old white sign with the word SHAFT written on it and an arrow pointing to the right. It makes me laugh. Next to it is an old sign that looks to be from a gas station. It says LUBRICANT. It makes me wonder if someone placed
the sexually suggestive signs together or if it was random. If I had enough money, I’d buy them and start a sexually suggestive sign
collection for my bedroom. But my trophy habit is ...
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“You can’t hum while holding your nose closed.”
our house that our family of seven includes an atheist, a home wrecker, an ex-wife suffering from a severe case of agoraphobia, and a teenage girl whose weird obsession borders on necrophilia.
“Not every mistake deserves a consequence. Sometimes the only thing it deserves is forgiveness.”
NOT EVERY MISTAKE DESERVES A CONSEQUENCE. SOMETIMES THE ONLY THING IT DESERVES IS FORGIVENESS.
“I know that, but now the entire town is going to think Dad was trying to exhume Pastor Brian. Everyone knows he’s an atheist, now there’ll be rumors about him wanting to perform satanic rituals on his dead body.”
You shouldn’t feel so special, Merit. We’re all a degree of fucked-up.”
