Mack Monologue

“Not bad,” replied Gabby, who had thrown her bag up on the counter and was trying to fish out a lighter, “just got off!” Both of her stockings had a run in them and flicks of discarded food stuck to the sides of her tennis shoes. Her dress was black and sparkling. Vernon could tell she worked at another diner the moment she got out of the cab. The waitress flipped over an empty cup and poured out what was leftover of the coffee. Gabby had lite her cigarette, inhaled a drag, took a sip, and exhaled out a thick cloud of smoke in one single breath. “Ended up pulling a double?” The swirls in the smoke seemed to actuate Gaby's words. “Don’t remind me!” replied the waitress, who had removed one of her flats and was rubbing her heel, “I’ve been on and off my feet since 9:30 this morning.” Gabby looked towards the front of the diner at the back of Vernon’s head and then back at the waitress. “Rough night?” “Nope,” replied the waitress, “he’s been coming in here late for the last month or so, keeps to himself.” They both could see that Vernon was moving his hands while he was talking to himself. “We still on for tonight,” asked Gabby. “Maybe,” said the waitress, “as long we can get a table.” The band aids on the back of her heels needed to be replaced with new ones. Gabby

Trying to take my fish off the line The rod could’ve left a blazing line of fire on my arm as it was trying to run away. My vigorous hands held the metal in place, I steadily rotated the reel until the monstrosity was almost in my perspective. “Get the trap ready!”

Its is 1914 and joey a farm horse sold the the army and thrust into the midst of world war one. Into the western front when he is dragged away from his owner Albert his heart aches will he find him. Albert said they will meet again

The orchestra tunes their instruments as I sit in the back of the auditorium, fiddling with my Thoroughly Modern Millie playbill. A friend of a friend, Jolie, is sat next to me as we wait for our mutual friend to join us. Though we sat in silence, it was comfortable. Our friend, Kyra, joins us as the lights begin to dim. Before we are left in the dark, Kyra throws me a knowing smile as if she knows exactly how these next two hours will impact the rest of my life. I smile back though and turn my attention to the stage.

As I dropped to my knees to check Marjory’s pulse, a miasma of stale booze wafted towards me. She was dead, alright. Dead drunk. I grabbed her by the shoulders, and, with an energy fueled by fury, shook her until her teeth rattled. All I got for my efforts were a few moans and incoherent mumbles and a piercing pain in my right hand.

On 05/14/17, I was dispatched to 2440 W. Madison in reference to an assault that occurred at the location.

It all started the day I died. I think I should formally introduce myself, My name was Craig Crow and I lived in Alabama on a corn farm with my wife and two beautiful twin sons. We lived in a house with 3 bedrooms and a very small crawl space in the attic. The barn was old with bright red paint and big white sliding doors, we owned 2 horses, one for me and one for my son. The only way for us to get into town was a small green beaten up pickup truck that had been passed down for generations. The house had been passed down just like the truck had been and my whole family is buried here, including my wife and I.

The beginning I lived in a little town in texas only having 250 residence and i was one of them just at the beginning my adulthood and I finished school just 3 years back. I had life going great until that night when I died and it was all caused by my rival “Willy Morgan” when he came to my house looking for a fight and i gave it to him it was a fist fight it was the brawl of the century until Willy took out a knife when i saw the knife I quickly grabbed a glass bottle and whacked him right on the cheekbone causing a deep cut on his cheek, blood dripped on the floor boards he was furious he stabbed me once in the heart and it was over. Now that i’m a ghost I’ve dedicate my whole life to haunt Willy Morgan and that’s just what i’m going to do

I see people go through there Dailey routine like they are robots They're faces have no expressions and they have no thoughts Like an assembly line they organize Who knows what they see If I stepped in there shoes how would I see me Are they human Do they have a brain Are they being controlled, like someone controls an animal with rains I won't ever know what it's like to not be me

I remember walking through the doors of my high school and feeling a mixture of dread and excitement settle heavily somewhere between my throat and my gut. This was not the first time, nor the last time that I experienced what most people would call butterflies, except in my case it felt more like the butterflies were nukes playing tag, and the aftershocks were giving me the shakes. Due to my inability to talk to my fellow classmates without feeling like a leaf in the middle of a hurricane, I came to the conclusion that the only way to get rid of this fear was to face it head on, so that’s exactly what I did.

My name is Jimmy Nguyen and I have previously volunteered at Toronto Pearson's Runway Run during kit pickup. As I am entering university this fall and am in the process of applying for scholarships, I was wondering if it would be possible for you to provide a reference letter for me? I understand if you cannot provide one, please just let me know. I appreciate you taking your time to read this email in any case, thank you.

The music blared so loud through the speakers at the bar and grill MacGowan's Haven, that Alannah Chambers worked at that she had to shout in order for her customers to hear her. "What would you like sir?" She yelled at the middle aged man on the other side of the counter. He was a heavy set man with thinning salt and pepper colored hair and thick glasses, he wore faded blue jeans and a blue shirt that looked like it seen better days. Lots of them. He had a mustard stain on his shirt too that he hadn't bothered to wipe up. "Uh, I'll take a beer and a piece of that ass babe," he said, and grinned wickedly at her. If it had been a few years sooner, Alannah would have ignored him, but not this time, she was done with little-miss-shy-girl that

THE LINE BETWEEN DISGUSHING the sober from the drunk is blurred. giggles pierce her ears, instead of the HEAVY music, but she lets herself drown out the mere voices with hennessy. and what a friend hennesy had been to her. hennesy, was one of her truest companions through all her MAJOR milestones of her life. but tonight she wanted something different, to befriend someone new — jack, jack daniels. who other than a new friend to keep her company in this toxic wasteland intertwine of intoxicated strung out souls. except there’s a tiny problem that alludes to her in the back of her mind. she’s broke. using the term broke with such light ease would be an EXAGGERATION on her part. she had money, but not enough to satisfy her current craving. her

“ No probs man. I will do anything for you and I also wanted to see this trainwreck,” Aaron said, laughing. “ And trust me this will be a trainwreck. Nate, can you come here for a second,” Wade said, gesturing Nate to come over. “ Yes Mr.Jones,” Nate said,shivering. “ Nate, for the last time you can call me Wade. You earned enough respect to call me Wade,” Wade said. Mr. Jones reminded him of his good for nothing, always drunk father. Wade still remembers his dad and how he treated others . “ Trudy, get your ass up and make me a sandwich,” Arthur said, drinking his beer. Arthur was sitting down in his favorite recliner,drinking his beer. Trudy walked out of the kitchen with a plate in her hand. “ Arthur,please don’t curse in front of your son,” Trudy said. Little five year old, Wade was on a beat up rug,playing with a torn up teddy bear. “ I don’t give a shit about that mistake. I always tell you to leave him somewhere. Where is my sandwhich,bitch?” Arthur said. Trudy gave him his sandwich and Arthur bit into it. Suddenly, Arthur spit the sandwich on Wade and threw his plate at him. “ What wrong, Arthur,” Trudy said, waiting for an answer. Arthur inhaled and exhaled and got up from his chair. He walked to the small table and kneel down. He grab a kilo divider and sniffed white stuff. He got back up and moved towards Trudy . Arthur exhaled and quickly slapped trudy in the face. Trudy went down and Wade started to cry. “ I told you I hate lettuce,” Arthur said,hitting her in the face. “ Mistake,stop crying or I will whip you so hard that you wouldn’t be able to breath,” Arthur said. Suddenly Wade stopped crying. “ You two come up stairs,” Arthur said, urging them to come over. Trudy picked up Wade and walked up stairs. They walked all the way into the master bedroom. Arthur opened the door and urged them to walk in front of him and hde suddenly locked the door. “ Wade, sit down in that chair and

ill fucking kill you bitch if you don't stop talking shit behind my back you dirty tart. You be suck all sort of dick my boy and I gonna expose your bitch ass if you don't stop. maybe ill brake your fucking family's knees in. I'm not going to fuck around anymore you fucking dirty ass bitch, another thing you owe me money you hoe. bitch I got niggas that are willing to beat your ass.........