Passing Away (A Story)

My dad passed away in 1937

He is now in Heaven is what the Devil told me

Why do you capitalize heaven and devil, the Devil asked me

You should only capitalize devil.

My dad, his name was Eddle

He died in a sweatshop. He was stressed out. He died of stress

Too expensive was a casket so we burned his flesh

In the fireplace. We couldn’t afford to do it professionally

Then we held marshmallows to the fire

That’s when the Devil first appeared

He said my mom was weird

And in her sleep he fucked her

So the Devil married my mom



Possible Interactions

Random Dialogue Pt. 11

A meeting is held at DaraQuinn Pharma

Erick: Raise this medication to $10,000

Marley: But sir. It only costs 15 dollars to make.

Garon: Yeah and at 50 dollars we’re making plenty profit.

Erick: Plenty profit. *Laughs* Oh you are so naive Garon. How did you even make it this far?

Marley: Sir, no one, I mean, very few people will be able to afford this. And it’s very crucial for the health of diabetics.

Erick: It’s true that few individuals will be able to afford it. But health insurance companies will certainly be able to afford it.

Garon: And if they can’t?

Erick: Then too bad.

*Two weeks later, their only competitor raised its price from $5,000 to $10,000*


A Testy Exchange

At least I don’t live in my mom’s basement!, she shouted.

Yeah well at least my mom isn’t gonna die next month

How do you know that? How do you know that! Mama’s boy!

Well…at least I’m trying really hard to get out

Really hard? Oh sweety, you spend all day writing on your blog. You poor soul. Now I just feel sorry for you.

Don’t feel sorry for me. Have a party for me. Bitches, balloons, Bacardi, and weed. And let niggas know that I died with the heart of a G.

What’s that?

Juelz Santana. Check him out.

Maybe I will!!

*Puts on headphones*

*3 minutes pass*

Great song. Oh Jose. This would all be so much better if you were successful.

I am successful – in my own eyes.

Studio Audience: Awwww


It Happened By The Lake

I slit a nigga’s throat. They found his body
On a boat.

So many cameras the next day
Who killed this nigga?
Wasn’t me, I whispered as I whistled past

When I got to work all people
Could talk about
Somebody killed this nigga!
Who do you think it was?
Wasn’t me but…what else is up?

I went home the next day…to my cottage
I’m reading a book, one arm bent back behind my head

I see the nigga slam his hand on the window

I thought this nigga was dead