Karma Conversation (a 200 word dialog)

“She’s the girl of my dreams.”

“You must be daft!  This is the girl who threw away your baseball card collection.”

“Yeah, she did do that.”

“And she was the one who made you get rid of your dog because she didn’t want the fur on her white carpet.”

“True.  She did do that.”

“She had to buy her Corvette which is why you that P.O.S. out in the parking lot.”

“P.O.S.?”

“Piece of”

“Ah, got it.  Yeah.  She does love that car.”

“And she stabbed you in the back by sleeping with your boss.  How can she be the girl of your dreams?”

“Oh, I meant nightmares.”

“Now that I can understand.  So tell me, why are you still with her?”

“I may have found the worst possible relationship, but that makes everything else seem so much better.  I can look at dropping out of college, working this crappy job, and realizing I’m not going to accomplish any of my childhood dreams and feel some sort of contentment.  It’s like I’m telling karma to go fuck off because I got this, so just hold my beer.”

“So let me see if I understand.  The sex is that good?”

“Yes.”

 

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I Was Okay With That (a 300 word story)

I was sitting on the couch the other night with my ex-girlfriend.  She had come over for a couple of beers and the football game.  I was hoping for more, but nope.  She just wanted my cable and beer.  The strange thing was I was okay with that.

“So just admit that you miss me,” I said.  Okay.  Maybe, just maybe,  I wasn’t entirely okay with that.

“I miss hanging out with you,” she said.  “That’s what tumbled into a relationship, remember?”

I chuckled.  “You said tumbled.”

“Of course I did,” she said before taking another swig of her beer.  “I was a journalism major.  I pick my words carefully.”

That made me feel a bit uncomfortable.  “So you broke up with me because of the sex?”

“The sex was pretty good.”  I began to beam, but then almost lost my beer when she smacked me with a pillow.  “I said pretty good, not the best.”

Now I put on a pouty face.  “You didn’t complain at the time.”

“I told you, the sex was good.”

“Then why did you break up with me?” I asked.

“Because after a while you acted like you were God’s gift to women.”

I was kind of scared to touch that one with a ten-foot pole, but I couldn’t let it slide.  That wouldn’t be me.  I decided to play it cute.  “But what if I am?”

“I want a gift receipt so I can exchange you for a nice pair of super fuzzy socks.”

I clutched my beer to my mortally wounded heart.  “Ouch!”

She laughed and turned back to the game.  I saw the woman I had fallen for, but I knew that she was happier now that we had broken up.  The strange thing was I was okay with that.

 

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Consent! (a 100 word diatribe)

I am at war with nature.  I have had to watch numerous videos about how sex is only allowed with sober consent, and yet Mother Nature is jumping my immune system with her reproductive junk without even taking me out for dinner and a movie.  I am so abused in this relationship I want her to be locked up, or at least go to counseling.  When I say no, it should mean no.  Even when I sleep she is up to her nefarious tricks.  Don’t you ever get enough, Mother Nature?  I can’t wait till you take a cold shower!