By Melanie S. Wolfe Four siblings, wearing all black, stood in the very kitchen they grew up in and stared at all the food dishes wrapped in plastic. The last guest had left, and it was the first time they were alone together since the dreaded call. Jennifer, the oldest, took a sip out ofContinue reading “The TikTok Angel”
Dick Jarvis, chemist of the party, shivered as he looked up from his notebook. “I’d just as soon spend it in a liquid air tank!” he averred. “These eighty-below zero summer nights are plenty for me.”
By the advice of several worthy persons, to whom, with the author’s permission, I communicated these papers, I now venture to send them into the world, hoping they may be, at least for some time, a better entertainment than the common scribbles about politics and party.
When I came here a month ago, the intake guard told me I’d sit here in prison for the rest of my life and pay for my sins. I can’t imagine life after lunch, let alone 40 years. It hurts my skull just thinking about it.