Random Quirks Novels & Stories

You don't want no problems, want no problems with me Just another day, had to pick up all the mail There go Chano ridin' through the streets, they be like, "There he go!"🎶🎶 Playing a game on my Xbox, I rap along as my phone plays 'No problem by Chance the rapper ft 2chainz and Lil Wayne. "Honey." I stopped singing when I heard a voice call from outside my room. "Honey." My mum knocks at the door and enters. Pausing my game, I sigh and faced her. "What now, Mum?"

Tanya was such a great wall. They were animated as they started to talk about their favorite memories with their mom. They would usually begin with “Do you remember that time?” Hearing those stories, almost half of them he hasn’t heard before, was fascinating to him. Some were really funny and would make them laugh. Tanya doesn’t often crack jokes. What’s funny about her is mostly her expressions. When she’s disgusted by something, it shows on her face. When something incomprehensible occurs, something that doesn’t make sense, her disbelief is there for all to see. You can essentially hear her voice without her speaking her mind.

she paused and gazed upwards at the moon “Its great and all, but honestly its a lot lonely for only one person to handle alone, and I’m a lot crazy for anyone to handle” “Are you sure about that?” I responded, staring at her illuminated profile She turned back to me “You weren’t joking about loving me and my craziness?” I shook my head “I was not, I think I at least equal you in the craziness department, and think of the other boxes I tick off” She grinned and held up her fingers, ticking off as she counted “Crazy, one. Insanely handsome, two. Emotionally scarred, three. Daddy and mommy issues, four. Slight problem with the law, five”

Under any normal circumstance, this would drive me crazy, but seeing her this distraught was sobering. “Look at me.” At last her big brown eyes met mine. “Tell me. I want to help.” Her eyes widened with what I assumed is fear, and she shook her head. I sighed. “Okay. Let’s play twenty questions.” She looked puzzled. “You answer each question yes or no.” Her frown deepened, and she clutched the little gold cross that hung at her neck. “Did you commit any crime?” Danica gazed at me, then gave me the briefest shake of her head. “Okay. Why did those men call you a criminal?”

I take out my phone and text Stace. It’s going to take about fifteen minutes. A text bounces back. What the fuck? We don’t have time for this. I roll my eyes and text back. Feel free to come and rob the bank. Because that will be so much quicker. I turn and peer out the glass panel in the door to see if I can see anyone lurking around., I wonder where Stucco is this morning. My nerves raise to another level. A text bounces back. Don’t tempt me!

"There's a difference. Managing expectations is healthy. Controlling variables so nothing can surprise you is avoidance." "These aren't just variables," I said. "This is planning. This is respecting both our time." "But it's also you making sure you have an exit strategy," Eli said. "You're planning how much vulnerability you can handle on any given night. You're scheduling emotion like it's a production timeline." He was right. Which is infuriating because I don't particularly enjoy being right about my own flaws. "I don't know how to do this spontaneously," I said. "I need structure."

The rain tapped softly against the plastic canopy. Looking at Hunter, I suddenly remembered the card from the night before our marriage registration. "Thank you for participating." I had once thought I was simply unlucky. I never drew the best prize. No one ever came back with the umbrella. I never received the kind of special treatment borne out of unconditional love. Later, I finally understood that it wasn't that I had bad luck. It was that from the very beginning, they had never included my name in the prize list. I looked at Hunter and said, "I've looked enough."

Just clocked out. My bestie, Chloe, texted. Begging me to go wild with her at a bar. I collapsed onto my bed. Exhausted. “No way. My legs are jelly. I can’t tonight.” I splashed some water on my face and stared at my reflection. Pale. Drained. Suddenly, I knew I needed a release. Anything to forget my inhuman, tyrant werewolf boss. I grabbed my phone again, ready to text Chloe. I wanted to type: “My whole body aches. No energy for the bar. I desperately need a rough, deep-tissue massage session tonight.” But my brain was fried. I just typed: “Just need a rough, deep session tonight.” Five minutes later, my screen lit up. But it wasn't a message from Chloe. It was from my cold, untouchable A

he grins. Something tells me Trick does things on his own timetable and when he wants to shoot the shit, they talk all day. I wonder how I'm going to get in the apartment, but I don't want to come right out and ask. It seems forward, and I don't want to scare him off. "What does shooting the shit mean?" Riley pipes up from where she's sitting in front of me. "How can you put poo in a gun?"

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