When Hayley and Greg were little, they played Make-Believe.
First, they pretended to get married.
Second, they pretended Hayley was pregnant, though they didn’t know how it happened.
Third, Greg did an emergency Caesarean-section on Hayley with a steak knife.
When they grew up, they did it all for real.
“If I ever turn into a vampire, will you kill me?”
“Sure thing, babe.”
“I wouldn’t want you to, you know. I’d want to bite you so you became a vampire, too.”
“I know, babe.”
“Then we’d become vampires together! We might really enjoy that.”
“You’re one already, aren’t you?”
A song on the radio triggered. She knew immediately that she had a destiny.
She quit her job, hitch-hiked to Vegas, and spent three days wandering aimlessly, waiting for a sign.
The cute waiter who served her fettucine asked her why she was eating alone.
They lived happily ever after.
“I prefer kleenexes, because they’re soft and comforting, like you.”
“I prefer napkins, because they’re tough and effective, like you.”
They had this conversation every single time they went out to dinner. Then she would sneeze, and he would spill on his shirt, and they would go home feeling rejuvenated.
Once there was a very ugly duckling. It got a lot of sympathy from people in the park, who thought it was so ugly that it rounded the far end of the spectrum and was somehow cute instead.
So the normal ducklings got jealous and beat the ugly duckling up.
Seven-year-old Kyle sold strawberries on Saturdays. He got exactly six customers every hour; he counted them.
Then one Saturday, between one o’clock PM and two o’clock PM, he had nine customers.
Three of them didn’t buy anything, though. “The more things change,” Kyle sighed, “the more they stay the same.”
When he had finished digging, he lined the pit with plastic and ran a hose into it. He watched proudly as his makeshift swimming pool filled up.
He had always dreamed of being a lifeguard. All he needed now were some babes to save.
He put up signs and waited.
“Let’s go camping!”
“In the back yard?”
“In the forest!”
“Will there be cell reception?”
“I hope not!”
“What if I break my back and you need to call an ambulance?”
“Then I’ll euthanize you.”
“Will you use cyanide?”
“Whatever you prefer, hon.”
“Ok, deal.”
Unfortunately, he forgot the cyanide.
“May I buy a cup of tea, please?” he pleads.
She sees him and smiles. This seems to frighten him, so she leaves, returning quickly with a hot cup of tea and a croissant.
“May God bless you, child,” he whispers. He sips the tea delicately, tears in his eyes.
The Invisible Man was written by Honest, who loves to create, mostly with words, and hopes to inspire and be inspired. You can follow Honest on Twitter at http://twitter.com/Honestlyspeakin.
Martha said, “Listen well, Little Tommy. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my many years, it’s that you’ve got to have self control.”
Tommy folded his chubby little arms. “You’re not the boss of me!”
“Listen to your grandmother,” said Martha, wagging her seven-year-old finger. “And to me, too.”