The Road To Happily Ever After


is bullshit,
a never-ending straightaway
that leads nowhere good.
Littered with carcasses
of frogs and fickle princes, discarded
tubes of chapstick, broken glass
slippers, the entire pathway ticks
like a timebomb until midnight,
then disappears right before your eyes. 
 
 
--A.J. Huffman

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

FIERCE FEATURES: Happily Ever After by Becky Pedigo

One morning, around the age of forty, I woke up, and my boyfriend of fourteen years  said, "Honey, I have some bad news. I'm breaking up with you." So, I said, "Well, here's  some more not-so-great news, you're fifty, and Bigfoot isn't real. Enjoy living with your parents." I met Jack in my twenties at a show we were both doing at a comedy club in Los Angeles. It was 1995, amid the OJ trial madness, which doesn't matter except that we saw Marsha Clark, the lead prosecutor, at a bar later that night which was weird. She has super curly hair, by the way. After that, we made out in my car until the wee hours of the morning, which lead to us spending the next decade and a half of our lives together. For the record, I don't usually make out with men I've just met. Okay, sure, a couple or three times, but a lady can't allow such behavior to become a habit. However, it could not be helped because he was charming, funny, and handsome with big...
Read more

PUNK PROSE: My Bully's Name is Stephanie by Kelsey Coletta

My Bully’s Name is Stephanie In kindergarten I tried to change my name to Kelly and I became best friends with Stephanie who didn’t try to change her name but never told me I was weird and we laughed on the playground and played with our dolls and learned how to spell and dream. In second grade Stephanie decided to be friends with Brittany instead and no one ever told me but I figured it out when they laughed at me at recess and made excuses to keep me from playing with them and I tried so hard not to cry until I got home. In middle school they played sports together but I found solace in books because maybe books wouldn’t make me feel so empty inside. In high school Stephanie nearly starved herself to death and I wished we could have been friends again so she’d know that I spent half my day with my face in the toilet because I couldn’t control myself the way I assumed that she could and it never occurred to me that she hated existence just as much as I did. In college I tried to forge...
Read more

PUNK PROSE: Monotone by Umaima Munir

Monotone Noa likes to refer to people by their most prominent features, the ones she knows they’ll be insecure about. Never their names. It’s  Bald Spot , or  Teeth , or  Eyebrow s. It’s from high school, according to her. From being called  Flat Chest  for years herself. She’s really good at it. Finds the exact thing a person hates about themselves.  When we fight and she calls me Monotone for the first time, I ask her about it.  What the hell is wrong with you?  Why do you do that? Don’t deflect , she fires back.  You’re manipulating the conversation . She’s right, because the fight was about how I left her alone in the club bathroom when we went out and she had to throw up and because I didn’t hold her hair back she got vomit all over her hair and a friend joked about how she smelled. On the way back on the train she gave me the silent treatment. Except for the few times she let me hold a water bottle in front of her face so she could...
Read more