The Weeping Match

Eli (also known as DJ Goldfish) was sitting at a table inside Sharkeez Gentleman's Club located in the Czech Republic. He was an American. Eli sat in a lounge with Sony headphones, an 8 gb iPod nano, a black Bic Pen, and a pad of college-ruled paper and scribbled various raps in preporation for his musical performance later that evening. He wore a trench coat.

The latest rap that had been written -

"I pop my colla like a motha-fucka,
right before I shoot you down like a cock-sucka,
and then I turn off the light switch
so I can fuck yo bitch,
before stealing yo money to get rich.
That's how I roll
Like a motha-fucka high on adderol, bitch."

After giving himself what appeared to be a self-congratulatory smile, Eli turned towards the large tank of water featured prominently inside Sharkeez Gentleman's Club. The tank featured many attractive females, all of which were noticed by Eli. One female, however, seemed to be noticed more than the others. She was a mermaid.

Eli made eye contact and motioned for her to come towards him. She did.

"I'm Eli."

The mermaid brushed her hair back, "I'm Kat."

Channeling the legendary energy of Tom Cruise, Eli began hopping up and down, stating, "I love you, let's get married! Let's get married, I love you!"

"Sure," Kat said, "Why not?"

"It'll be great," Eli said, holding Kat's hands. "We can get married in the Czech Republic, we'll have kids, we can move to the bottom of the Ocean- oh, maybe even Atlantis if we can afford it..."

"Wait a second," Kat interrupted, "What do you mean move to the bottom of the ocean?"

"Well you are a mermaid, aren't you?"

"No," Kat turned sideways. Through the glass Eli saw her point to a zipper on the side of her fin. It was fake.

"Oh," Eli opened up his trench coat, revealing a long green fin from his waist down. "Because I am... well, a merman that is. "

Shady Baby

Ashley wished she could turn away from the glare of the overcast sky, but the stroller's head brace was always far too strong. She would try to close her eyelids, but the light still burned through, splashing warm pools of orange and red on their surface. The occasional shade of overhanging trees and a stranger's smiling face were much relief and always a cause for celebration. Ashley remembered the new bib and managed to pull it up and over one of her aching eyes. This was enough she thought, half the light was enough. She spotted her mom talking to another woman. The vibrations in her ears and the movement of her mom's lips were too complicated to understand. Instead she dreamt of later that day when they would both lie down together, her mom taking her in her arms and Ashley could finally turn away and bury her face in her mom's soft skin.

Nobody

Sometimes one gives up his life as a gigolo, buys a terquoise umbrella, and saunters in the rain. Unfortunately, statues with horns (obviously symbolism for horniness) follows him wherever he goes. The umbrella blocks the view, the wetness, and the feeling for the most part, but it doesn't block the statues from existing. If he could reach up to grab one of them he would. But then what would he do? Would he embrace it, or would he spend the rest of his life picking at it with his Volkswagon key until it vanished like a firework on the 4th of July.

Maybe he just needs to find some other people - people without umbrellas. It might be too late.

*And yes, I was crizunk when I wrote this shit.

The Photo