Divorce in the Age of Social Media
“95 dollars?” Dr. Silas Martz hooted.
I stared at him and said nothing.
“You’re serious,” he said. “That’s it? That’s all the money you have? Nothing in savings? You have to have savings. At least two grand for an emergency. Something.”
I sighed.
“Seriously? Or are you just being melodramatic?”
I shook my head and said, “95 dollars.” Read the rest of this entry »
“It really makes you struggle, to hope for them, and know there is nothing you can explain,” my mother said in passing as the family gathering was now pressing the boundaries of the house itself.
She was referring to my cousin Angela and her husband Tariq, as well as Kaylee and Omar O’Malley. The two couples were talking animatedly in the way that only those who are in love with life and with their partner can. Life’s rich tapestry is a glorious and beautiful thing, its unfolding path an adventure rather than a soul-destroying nightmare through which larger parts of your heart are rendered asunder… Read the rest of this entry »
Image By: virtualphotographystudio
(Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage. Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)
With my certificate in and a general sense of agitation regarding the time issue, I did something I normally would not do: I called my attorney’s assistant. “Did you get the certificate?” I asked, like the kindergartener who wants to see his mommy hang up his finger painting on the refrigerator. Read the rest of this entry »
Blake Morgan was not happy to hear from me. It was late, he had a life and he didn’t need a damned wild goose chase. So, I decided to drop the proverbial bomb. Read the rest of this entry »
A car is nothing more or less than a means of conveyance. I don’t regard a car as desirable and I don’t have a covetous nature, particularly in the area of cars. But for the second time this afternoon I was forced to draw comparisons between my circumstances and those with whom I’m involved professionally.
“Damn it, do I have the shittiest car on the planet?” I thought. Read the rest of this entry »
Image by: by dvsChapter 35: The Epic Story of Harry and Jillian McDade
(Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage. Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)
Walking along with my cigars, a clipper, lighter and Gertrude in tow, I made my way to settle down in what I have now designated as my smoking room. I took care to wave at the neighbors across the way – again using all five fingers, and noted that Mr. Hershaw’s lawn had not been clipped. I also saw a brown patch forming in his side yard.
Ignoring this, I settled in to smoke, spit and ask questions of my mother. I will relay to you here the fairly unexpurgated version of the story of my great-grand-parents, as several matters of family history and various apocryphal accounts (which were kinder than the reality) needed to be addressed. Read the rest of this entry »
Image by: Christopher NeugebauerLife’s Roller Derby; or The Hits Keep A’Comin’
By
Cusper Lynn
Oppressive humidity and the full force of the late afternoon sun were bearing down on me as I walked the two miles back to my Gulf Gate Drive office.
“This isn’t the New York Public Library reference desk and I’m not some sort of damn search engine,” Blake Morgan complained after I gave him the three names.
“Blake,” I said, “I’m about to give you the story of a lifetime. I just need to know who I’m dealing with.”
“The FBI, so you say.” Morgan was typing away furiously.
“That’s why I need you to tell me everything you can about those three names and Liberty Reserve,” I said, trying to catch my breath.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you having a heart attack?” Blake asked. Read the rest of this entry »
“You did this on purpose!” I shouted.
The allegation was met with a stony silence.
“At this point, with everything on the line, you decided this is the time to throw a power play?” I resumed. “I kept up my end, did everything I said I would but you said, ‘Screw you Cusper, time for paybacks.’”
I paused, but there was no response, no admission, no denial, just silence. The silver Saturn Ion can hold a grudge like no one else I know. Despite the oil change, the seat cover and the new hub caps, it had not forgiven me for our argument in the driveway when I had stripped out its relays. So it sulked and I was forced to call a tow truck. Read the rest of this entry »
