Manifest Comic Novels & Stories

“Limited edition painting. If you wanna buy it, you gotta place a bid. Or, get them for free if you sign up for the club.” He shrugged, feeling victorious. The people were silent, unsure of what to say. Malorie stepped forward, still gaping at the painting. “You…” she began. “It’s marvelous, isn’t it?” Cain boasted. “It’s...marvelously bad!” Malorie exclaimed. “What the hell is this?” She pointed at the painting consisting of stick figures in different colors. The shapes were off, looking like an artwork by a kindergarten student. “This is comic art!” Cain claimed. “This looks as if a child drew it!” she hissed. “This isn’t how you make a comic strip!”

but suddenly it crashed out of my mouth, “Fuck man! fuck this shit!” The guy paused and his face became redder. “Did you just say fuck man?” Seeing the veins popping out of his forehead and neck, I lost my cool and involuntarily bursted into rounds of derisive laughter. “Stop laughing!! you moron” The guy bellowed angrily. “I’m not moron, I'm stiles” Fuck! fuck! stop replying, I said mentally and covered my mouth with my fingers so that words wouldn't crash out of my mouth again. It was as if anytime I think of something negative, it crashes out of my mouth.

Becca hiccupped and giggled, dropping her empty glass once full of strawberry daiquiri that Luke had brought with him. After five hours of drinking orangeade, strawberry daiquiri, lemonade, punch and stories of maximum laughs and epic proportions, she was tired as fuck. If she heard one more funny one night stand story about Allison McKinney being daft as a brush, she would, literally, pass out of exhaustion. She was reeling at the idea of heading out to a friend's party that was ongoing.