“Daddy I hafta go poop! I hafta go poop REAL BAD!!” Sophie screamed from right next to me in line waiting to pay for the books, her face suddenly flushed with panic. The twenty other people waiting in line and all the other people on the first floor turned to watch. I’d never been to the bathroom in…
Every Inventor is an Island
“Good morning, sugar,” she said. It said. He rubbed his temples and looked in the mirror. The wind rattled the window in the small bathroom and drops of heavy rain pelted the glass. “Hum,” he said, not awake and not ready to be talking. “Good morning sugar,” her voice said again, awaiting a reply. “Mmmornin,” he said begrudgingly. His…
TIME TO CLEAN UP YOUR MOUTH THE BABY’S CURSING
I have always cursed. A lot. I snuck away to a George Carlin concert when I was 14, (I ordered it over the phone in a great, deep-voiced act of daring) illegally driving myself with my fresh learner’s permit to the venue all dressed up (in a blue blazer and tie, as if that would set them off my pimpled-faced…