“Pancakes” by A.M. Haynes
“Don’t like it! Don’t like it!” the tiny human shouted at me.
“Don’t like it! Don’t like it!” the tiny human shouted at me.
It must have been a gunshot. I’d know the sound of a .45 anywhere.
Time marches on! What a ridiculous cliché. If I had a minute for every time I’ve heard it, I’d . . . well, don’t get me started.
The Paci Pirate covets pacifiers. Binkies. Numnums . . . what have you.
I knew I had made a mistake in thinking I could leave my children unattended for even one minute!
Dear Afternoon Nap . . .
Joe hesitated, then strode into the darkness of the bar. In the seconds it took for his eyes to adjust he could tell he would have the place virtually to himself for a while.
It is hard to explain about staring at people.