Sniff?

I'm starting a new line of scented markers. The twist is that they'll be scented like terrible things. No more of this rainbows and chocolate nonsense. It will be a fearsome Bernie Botts every flavored beans array of colors. Yellow will smell like stale urine. Green will aerate the pungent odor of puke.

Black? It will smell like death.

They're marketed to a bitter crowd - your everyday utensil for composing hate mail. So when the celebrity who broke your heart, or the politician who broke his promises opens up the envelope, they'll be greeted by the stank odor of your hatred.

I'll sell it in a package with a magazine that is completely full of letters, A-Z. All in miscellaneous fonts, colors and sizes. You won't have to rummage through to cut out letters for your secret threats. There will be a  index in the back as well, with common phrases all spelled out:

"Go jump off a bridge"

"You're ugly"

"Watch your back"

and

"I hope you pickle yourself in grueling self-loathing for the rest of your life - you don't deserve to be a cucumber any longer"

Words are powerful. Hate deserves to be expressed.

Buy our markers.

Steak and Shake

We went to Steak and Shake Saturday evening. There's something about the stark contrast of the shiny white and black tiles with the red light up letters that makes me feel so retro. We sat in our booths and everyone ate milkshakes as tall as their faces; like they'd ever heard of a calorie count before. Carefree. Reckless. Ice cream and maraschino cherries.

Saturday nights are like that. Sickly sweet.

Sophie and I sat at the long counter on the stools that swivel. And we just spun and spun and spun until we were all spun out.

"Hey soph, do you want to lend me a quarter?" I ask, gesturing to the line of gumball-esque machines next to the window. I feel like there should be a jukebox. But there isn't, so we just stumble over - world all topsy turvy from our twirling. We slide our quarters in and turn the knob.

It's surprisingly satisfying, the quick turn of the wrist and hearing the click, click, click as your candy comes down. I got a grand total of five Spree chews. Each one a different color. And in the moment in seemed like the most beautiful happenstance in the world.

I ate them one by one, in rainbow order. And I let the melting of the corn syrup on my tongue be my music for just that little while.