LGBTQ-A by Matt McHugh
“I’m sorry, say that again, please?” “I no longer identify as human.”
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“I’m sorry, say that again, please?” “I no longer identify as human.”
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Stephanie Landrieu was robbed at knifepoint yesterday at 6:13 a.m. in the alley near William and Warren.
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Lila Francis sat at the bus stop holding the book close to her chest with sticky hands. In her hands she held the library’s only paperback copy of Fifty Shades of Grey.
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The day that kid came from Toronto was my chance to be a hero. All I had to do was hold my breath.
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A man needs a hobby. Some fish, some work on their cars, while others tend to their gardens. My hobby’s different, I play God.
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We planted RD’s mom in the ground on a scorching Texas morning. “Goodbye, Momma. The next time you kick the bucket, please pick a better day.” RD grinned at me. “That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
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Clovis the Cruel couldn’t understand why some people wanted to take over the world.
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I carry a briefcase when I leave for class, dressed in platform shoes, coke-bottle glasses, and bright tinny braces. It was my uniform, though I’d not learned of uniforms yet.
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Art Museman slowly scrolled through twenty-seven pages of eloquent and intense prose. In his heart, he was certain he had created a masterpiece.
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The four make their way up the hill to the broken piece of the ancient castle.
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