Spencer Moseley

He had forgotten the butter so he decided to baste the chicken thighs in olive oil. It wouldn't taste as good, he knew. But it would have to do. His girlfriend was waiting in the other room. Well, she was absorbed in her video game. But that was okay, he told himself. It's not like he needed her hovering over everything he did. Though it would feel kinda nice. He chuckled slightly out loud. His girlfriend heard it.  "What's funny, James?" she asked.  She had this cute smile, and James lightened up at having her attention.  "Oh just thinking about you," he said.  "Oh yeah?" she said and twirled some hair in her finger. "Wait, but then why did you laugh?" "I was thinking about how you told Jenny to go fuck herself for only reaching out about religious bullshit." Ashley laughed and the last laugh lasted a while, so James knew it was real. Even better.  "Yeah, that shit was so annoying. Come see my Hades 2 build," said...

I had practiced this move so many times, but I couldn't do it now. I wasn't feeling it. The bow felt extra heavy in my hand, like it was made of iron. I looked over and saw Christopher and Martin talking to each other and looking at me out of the corner of their eyes. They were laughing quietly. I laughed too as if they'd told me the joke too, and their confused reaction to my laugh made me turn away quite quickly. I consoled myself thinking, Maybe they're not laughing at me. In fact, I have no clue what they're talking about.  The fact that the words "in fact" were part of my inner monologue made me laugh. Perhaps my inner self was a scholarly monk. I pulled the bow string back and felt the arrow wobble around my shaky finger. Catherine, standing next to me, had already fired off two shots.  I could do better than that, I thought. Not because she's a girl, of course. Of course! This gave me a surge of courage. Not only because I felt superior to her b...

His head was bald, except for some, what looked like 5 o'clock shadow beard stubble, on one part of his head. Like if you were to look at someone's head from above and divide it into four quadrants, that beard stubble would be covering one of those quadrants. The stubble looked like the rough side of Velcro. And then he had toilet paper wrapped around his head where a headband would normally sit. There was no blood or anything, so I wasn't sure if this was a fashion or religious choice. Like maybe his religion demanded some headwear, but he'd forgotten to put on his religious headwear that morning; and this was his only way of meeting that obligation.  None of that matters to this story. I'm not even sure if this is a story really. All that to say, this man was talking in broken English to a lady across from him. She was mostly dressed normally, all in black, and her English was equally broken. Well not broken. I think in order to speak in broken English, you would ...