Tag Archives: Horror

Which Mike Myers Are You? 




Are you in line?


I’m sitting down.


Okay, you can still be in line.




You could be sitting down waiting until you were next.


No. If I was in line I would be standing up behind her.


Okay, you don’t got to get an attitude.


I don’t have an attitude. You initiated this conversation.


And I’m gone finish it!


You ain’t finishing shit!


Keep talking and I’ma have my boy cousin come in here and knock your ass out. Four-eyed!


3rd grader!


Guy and gal, will y’all please settle it down, or take it outside. We don’t need all this commotion.


He too scared to come out outside.


That would be correct … if my pizza was done. It’s not.


Pickup or delivery?




What’s the name?




Your order is done. That’ll be $16.49.


Maybe yours would have been done too, and we wouldn’t have met like this  if you placed your  order on the phone instead of inside. And all this time I thought people who wore glasses were smart. See you later four-eyes!




Pickup for Neal.




That’ll be $8.76


You know, If it’s for pickup, y’all shouldn’t put a customer’s name on the pizza box. Gonna get someone hurt one day. 



Hey trick-or-treater! Blue velvet suit, platform shoes, white mask, kitchen knife. Which Mike Myers are you? Couldn’t choose, huh? Well, you are not alone. Austin Powers and Halloween are my two favorites movies, so I understand. But you are missing an accessory. Please don’t take it the wrong way. I’m not a movie critic, but I can be a fashionista at times. However, I do understand why you wouldn’t wear them since you have the mask on. 


*pulls out brown case*


Yassssssss honey the glasses! 



Head Roll

“Harold, you up?”

He didn’t question me because he heard noise coming from my room. He asked because the noise coming from outside my room probably woke me. The shouting match. The yelling back and forth. I hate when my parents fight. 

I wasn’t worried about staying still. My body was in sleep-mode. I felt paralyzed from the neck down, but from the neck up I wanted to stratch my goatee because I had the covers pulled up to my chin. Lying on my left side, I wanted to rub my face across the pillow, but squinting at the full body mirror in the corner my dad’s head was still midway through the doorway as if he was waiting on me to say, “yeah, I’m up.”

“Is he up, gUerilla?”

That’s probably why they were fighting. Mom must forgot to take off her heels to hide her club-going before she stepped back in the house, and dad’s back must be bothering him again. Her head poked through above his. Yeah, mom’s drunk. She’s slurring her words. She usually pronounce dad’s pet name with O instead of U. And is she THAT wasted to not see where my bed is? Why is her head turned the opposite way in this weird angle? 

“Is bruh bruh up?”

I guess the fighting didn’t wake him; his growth spurt did and he wanted to surprise me with the exciting news. My little brother’s head poked through the doorway over mom and dad. 

My family knows I think before I speak, but thus far, I have given the impression I’m sound asleep. So, why the hell are they still hanging out in my doorway? 

It was starting to scare me! 

My dad needs a chiropractor. 

My mom is still looking in the wrong direction. 

My little brother’s a giant. 

After an intense, awkward 3 minutes and 23 seconds (I know this because of my alarm clock) the whites of their eyes and teeth disappeared into the darkness. 

I gotta lock my door. 

As I was TRYING to get up, my head rolled out of bed. 

WordPressident #6

Detective on thee case
Narcissus body still hasn’t been discovered at the depths of a Greek lake
But since you like looking in the mirror every second of thee day
How about I shine my knife up real good so you can see your reflection in mee blade?
Question that needs A
Which genre shown?
Because when I creeped up with the sword like how Perseus turned Medusa into stone and bones
He clapped his face and said “ahhhhh” like Kevin McCallister in Home Alone
“He’s gone he’s gone”
Now I see why Eddie Griffin blinks when he laughs
But looking behind you while you run should be a thing of the past
Cause you kicked your feet on your mom’s coffee table
And now feeling my cold hands wrapped around your swollen ankles
I’m the monster underneath your bed dragging you from room to room
Magic carpet ride like Aladdin, fingernails sweep suck better than any broom vacuüm
Doom is soon whom consumed womb to tomb moon has bloomed into a pretty sunflower dress
Dusk to dawn donned ya dust under your skin I’ma annoying little punk, coward, pest
But it’s not you who they gone say that’s missing
They just gone say your old ways are cause you know you act different
I just got away with murder but I’m itching for a petite skinny body
And I might just catch one in my next post, Blog War 3 on Christmas anybody?

If Your Blinds Look Like This …

Caption this photo.
Caption this photo.

If your blinds look like this, you need to mind your damn business.

But if your blinds look like this on an inconsistent row, someone is in yours.

I looked under my bed before I got out of it, afraid a cold hand would grab me by the ankles. I live alone. No one else has a key. Like a kid who hasn’t learned how to do the math in their head, I can count on my fingers how many people I invited over to my apartment in my 4 year residency here. All with 2 indexes and 2 thumbs to spare for a square.

I’m 5’10. Whoever this was, was at least 6’4. What could have they been looking out for? I stood on top of my paper shredder to match their height. I don’t see anything. Whoever this was has been in my apartment so long I need to ask for half the rent. You should see the wear and tear of the blinds. A few more bends it’s gonna need tape.

I look down and see what it was they were watching for: Me. We don’t have our own parking spots but whenever one outside my window is vacant I take it. It’s not a bad neighborhood but I like to keep an eye on my car incase I need to jump out my third floor window onto the entrance roof below, landing on top of my car as the jacker pulls off. Them coming to a hard stop. Skirrrrrt like a long dress. Me flying forward into a mountain of Hefty bags like the garbage man when no one’s looking. Wiping the dirt off my shoulders, chasing them on foot until I see a car I wanna steal and telling the owner who conveniently has one foot on the pavement, the other in the car that “I’m FBI. I need to borrow your sweet, sweet ride.”

Just when I tried to turn this slasher flick to an action movie it went right back to a horror …

I have lived alone long enough to know when I’m not alone.

Who turned up the thermostat? I’m getting goosebumps.

Who’s chopping onions? I’m crying.

Who left the oven on? I’m sweating.

Why didn’t I put a mirror on the wall I’m staring at so I can see behind me? I’m a bad decorator.

Whose hand on my shoulder? I believe I can fly!