
“I can’t understand why I can’t understand, and I don’t know who to ask for help.”
An Open Letter To Apollo
Hey Apollo,
I see you got the goats I sacrificed!
2020 has been an eventful year, thanks to your help. Great work sir, you really went above-and-beyond with my request, however (and I hope this doesn’t sound like more than a nitpick because I am grateful) my aim with those sacrifices was more in hopes that you’d break up Todd and my ex, and less about bringing about the beginning of the end of the world. I really miss her, and Todd’s such a prick at work, but hundreds of thousands are dead, and he’s still technically “boyfriend material.”
I do want to reaffirm, my lord, just how incredibly thankful I am that you would honor the prayers of so humble a servant.
Did I sacrifice too many goats? Is that it? Was three too much?
I’m not a shepherd or Greek or anything, but I feel like three is a pretty mundane amount of goats to offer up. I was more hoping that you would make Katie not so attracted to muscles or maybe make Todd lose interest in women and/or working at the museum entirely. This is fine, just to reaffirm, I don’t want to be a whiner. I do miss her though, as well as my Nana who was stung to death by murder hornets last week. I know better than to challenge the gods, so thank you as always.
Another thing, I feel I should mention, and I promise, this isn’t a complaint, but when I tried to reach out to you about quelling the spread of COVID-19 (three more goats) you did not stop the pandemic so much as emboldening large groups of white supremacists to challenge basic human rights on a communal and individual level in my country.
I don’t think unsacrificing them is an option at this point, but if there’s a way to rescind the previous request, while maybe making Todd less funny, I would be quite pleased with that. I’m attempting a sacrifice to you one more time, o lord, in hopes of exchanging Todd’s handsomeness for my irritable bowel syndrome. I should add, that I want nothing more beyond that.
Quarantined in my apartment, I haven’t been able to procure any “quality” animals for sacrifice. All I have to work with right now are bugs and/or my roommate, and I feel that the latter would be morally wrong? Unless maybe - you know what - forget it. I’m just hoping the bugs I sent work for you.
I don’t know if sending back murder hornets is considered regifting, but if it is, sorry, and I can offer something else: libations, mice, maybe a masterclass or- hold on a minute. Something’s happening on the news right now. Give me a moment.
Okay, it seems you did get my message, and lions have escaped from zoos all across America. That’s fine. Thank you. I think I’m going to stop sending you things and just make a tinder profile.
Box of Spiders
Life is like a box of spiders.
It may not be exactly what you bargained for and there’s a lot more spiders than you’d expect.
Shame On You Prose.
You ever notice how: those words, rearranged, spells cue thievery now?
Shame on you, Prose.
Midnight’s Flight
“I’m Leaving.”
Grown now, Midnight sought her own path.
Megan, however, couldn’t understand cats.
Midnight hides, her sister in pursuit.