My Best Friend's Exorcism

by Grady Hendrix

“Bad Mama Jama,” she said. “My mom doesn’t know he has it.”

“Wasting food is no joke!” he’d shout. “That’s how Karen Carpenter died!”

She could decide how she was going to be. She had a choice. Life could be an endless series of joyless chores, or she could get totally pumped and make it fun. There were bad things, and there were good things, but she got to choose which things to focus on. Her mom focused only on the bad things. Abby didn’t have to. Standing

They had just rented The Breakfast Club, and turning into adults felt like the worst thing ever.

It was their shorthand for “I love you.” Dearly But Not Queerly.

They were headed up onto the first span of the bridge when Bobby McFerrin started whistling; Abby turned up the volume on “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” and mellow radio reassurance filled the car.

Where everyone was desperate to be an individual, but they all were terrified to stand out.

“Ich Ils werde viv dich malpirgi zu salman Tode de ficken Donasdogamatatastos wirst ds du Acroodzi sterben bvsd, und bliorax sterben balit und Ds sterben insi allein caosg schreien lusdan immer pvrgel und Micalzo in chis Angst Satan vor od Gott fafen ist Zacare tot ca Gott od sei zamran tot Odo ist cicle alles qaa! tot Zorge in dir meine schwarze Krallen Zir ziehen noco! das Hoath Herz Satan in Bvfd Stücke lonsh wie londoh faules babage Obst Chirlan! und A ich bvsd am de Fest vovim der Ar Schmerzen i aller homtoh gebrochenen od Stellen gohed! in Irgil dir chis alle ds Enttäuschungen paaox alles i Leben bvsd Sie De caosgo alle ds Leute, chis die od ip Vran Sie teloah verraten cacrg iad gnai loncho”