Drawing heavily upon social experience, I have created a variety of short stories, mostly non-fictional and infrequently fantastical. The bulk of my work consists mainly of Fun with Dick, yet it is my intention to season it with other savory narratives.
Fun with Dick
Under the pseudonym of Dick, I write slightly embellished non-fictional short stories. Dick was born in 2010 and has had an on-again-off-again relationship with the public eye throughout the years. Here you will find Dick’s original memoirs complete with new adventures splattered throughout. Without further ado, introducing Dick: a homosexual boy who doesn’t want to be the butt of every joke so, instead, he chooses to rise to the occasion, becoming the first one to always say something inappropriate.
Some people like children no matter what. Even if the children are blowing mucus bubbles, shitting up their backs and practicing for their next Screamo concert. Some people only like children if they crawl, tentacles and all, from their own uterus and fly around the room – my friend Jane had a very interesting childbirth.
Once upon a time, not that long ago actually – just long enough that forgetfulness starts to set in – there was juicy peach. The peach was luscious with a soft blend of blood and gold. Everyone thought the peach was the cream of the crop for it was smart, beautiful, confident and followed the
Sometimes, when we are hunting lovers, we catch a glimpse of that fluffy white tail and chase it down with tunnel vision and a slavering maw. We are so focused that we miss all the other quizzical prey standing around waiting to fill our mouths. Sometimes we think we have felled the most beautiful and
Since 2015, Copenhagen has claimed the top spot on the list of bicycle-friendly cities in the world. Their cycling infrastructure cost them €134 million over the past 10 years. That’s a butt-load of money, you might say, but when 62% of your city’s population uses cycling as a method of transportation (and only 9% drive
Kissing Tales for the first time was a sober experience (not to be confused with a sobering experience); it was unpredictable and left me wanting more. Most of my first kisses were reckless inebriated exchanges of saliva; they were exhilarating at the time, but lifeless the next day. My very first kiss with a boy,
I used to get pissed. Pissed off. Piss drunk. Pissed off a ski-lift tower once. But over the years, I have come to realize that the company you keep determines, what I like to call, your Buddy Alcohol Content – an important metric for companionship. A while back, Edith shared something with me that stuck.