Six Ways To Make Your Friend Be Attracted To You Sexually Day!

There are only six ways to get a good platonic friend to become attracted to you sexually. Let’s count them down backwards, though it should be noted that number six is no less effective than number 1. Sexual attraction is sexual attraction, period. Anyway, here they are.

6. Show your friend how physically attractive you are. Ask your friend, “Which body parts do you like?” If your friend says “Boobs” or “Feet” or “Nostrils,” tell your friend, “I have some of those!” Then prove it. Your friend will probably go, “Want! Oh Christ. I want your dying bag of blood and guts. Want to stuff it inside me and stuff me inside it. Shit!” Then start sex.

5. Show your friend what an attractive mind you have. Ask your friend what they want from an erotic partner intellectually. Your friend will probably be like, “I want to talk to my erotic partner about books.” So you should say, “I’ve read books. Four books.” Say that even if you haven’t because who has? Your friend will demand to know which books. Tell your friend, “I’ll only tell you which books after 10,000 sessions of intercourse.” By the time the 10,000 sessions of intercourse is over and you tell your friend you lied about the books, it won’t matter because you had intercourse 10,000 times which is enough.

4. Smell like stuff that turns your friend on. If your friend thinks a sexy night is a cozy time spent by the fire, cover yourself in the ashes of the nearest arson aftermath. If your friend is turned on by lavender because that’s what your friend’s mom used to wear before she died and it became a sex trigger in a weird way, pour a vat of lavender over your head then shove your friend’s face against your body until your friend is visibly aroused.

3. Taste attractive. Oysters are an aphrodisiac so rub yourself with oysters. The next time your friend licks you, the taste of oysters will make your friend think, “Wow. I was just platonically licking my friend like I always do, but this time for some reason I’m turned on.” Next comes nudity then comes the wedding then kids then death.

2. Give your friend all your money. Tell your friend, “I want you to have everything you want in life. Here’s everything I have.” Your friend will feel obligated to pleasure you sexually, which is the most awesome thing for your friend to feel obligated to do.

1. Change your wardrobe and your physical appearance so that you look exactly like your friend. We’re living in a narcissistic age and sometimes friends won’t be attracted to you because they’re too into themselves. So get plastic surgery to look exactly like your friend. That way, loving you will be the same as self-love. Sex with you will be no different than masturbation. You should also change your personal beliefs so that you and your friend agree on absolutely everything and there is never any discord whatsoever between the two of you. Enjoy being so loved by your friend you’ll both lose your grasp of the boundaries of personal consciousness and go mad!

Happy Six Ways To Make Your Friend Be Attracted To You Sexually Day!

A Hang Glider Just Crashed Into Your House Day!

His hang glider is implanted into the siding along the second floor.

“Fuck!” you shout. “I can’t have this now!”

“Mmph!” he mumbles. His head’s stuck in your house.

“Goddammit!” you shout. “The teen I seduced just killed my husband and he’s supposed to get rid of the body but with you faceplanted into the side of my house and your stupid giant kite hanging over the lawn for everyone to see, the news crews are gonna be here any minute.”

Mmph!“ he mumbles.

"Sorry dickface, but the murder just got pinned on you.”

And so your husband will forever be remembered as having been killed by some guy who thought he could commit a murder and then escape by hang gliding off the roof but then the wind just crashed him back into the house. You’ll make a killing from the life insurance, yo.

Happy A Hang Glider Just Crashed Into Your House Day!

Waaaaaay Before Sunrise Day!

Her Courtyard By Marriott hotel room has a balcony in the middle of an office plaza that looks out on a dark corporate sprawl of office buildings. She sits out there drunk at 1 am when she sees a guy in a suit walk out of one of the buildings.

“Working hard or hardly working?” she shouts down to him.

“I don’t fucking need this!” he shouts back to her. “I just found out my company is doing business with the mafia!”

She apologizes. “I was just having some fun,” she says. “Drunk. You know.”

“Well maybe think about who you yell stuff at next time!” the guy shouts. “I thought I was working for a legitimate firm. But it turns out, they’re doing business with the mafia!”

“Want a drink?” she asks.

He climbs up the balconies to hers and they enjoy Scotch together.

“What do you think I’m gonna do?” he says after she asks him what he’s going to do about the mafia thing. “I’m going to report it to the local police station as soon as the sun rises.”

“What if we’re still making love?” she asks him.

They make love but they finish waaaaaay before the sun rises.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” she says when they’re laying in the afterglow like, seriously, hours before the sun comes up. “But if you rat on the mafia, that’s probably what will happen.”

“Could you do it?” he asks. “Could you go on working for a firm that does business with the mafia?”

“Yeah. Who cares? Besides, the mafia’s cool.”

He catches her drift and decides to not care who his firm does business with and so he becomes rich instead of dying, plus he had sex earlier (waaaaaay before sunrise),

Happy Waaaaaay Before Sunrise Day!

Fun Couple Day!

He slams the vacuum cleaner against the carpet to try to shake loose whatever’s stuck up there.

“Maybe you vacuumed up some of my dreams?” his wife says over the rim of her highball glass.

He jokingly searches the inside workings of the vacuum looking for her dreams.

“Don’t see any of those in here,” he says with a chuckle.

“Check the garbage disposal. Maybe you shoved my dreams down there! I haven’t seen them in so long, maybe you ground them up in the sink blades like they were just some leftover kale leaves from last night’s forgettable dinner!”

He jokingly checks the garbage disposal to see if there are any dreams in it.

“Nope. No dreams down there!” he shouts jovially.

“Maybe you threw them out with the trash. My dreams are so old and neglected that I could see you mistaking them for garbage. Did you happen to take my dreams and stuff them into a garbage can with the stripped toilet paper rolls, the soiled q-tips, and the junk mail pleas for charitable donations that we tear up and throw away without even fucking reading?!”

He jokingly goes down to the sidewalk to untie the garbage bags and root through the trash searching for her dreams.

“Can’t find any dreams in these Hefty cinch sacks!” he shouts up at their window.

She opens the window and shouts back at him, “Have you checked the grille and tires of our car? Take a flashlight and inspect the grille and tires for the blood of my dreams! You might have accidentally run down my dreams some night when you weren’t paying any goddamn attention to them. So you obliterated them against the grille of the car, then dragged them under the tires. Then to be sure they were dead you might have shifted into reverse and backed over my dreams until the life bled out of them into the street. Then you might have peeled away without even bothering to get out of the car to try and help.”

He jokingly goes upstairs to grab a flashlight, and then jokingly heads out to the car to inspect the grille and tires. There’s blood everywhere.

Back in the apartment, “My God, you drove home? I begged you never to drive when you’re like this.”

“He came out of nowhere. I thought I could live with the guilt but I can’t.”

When she finishes her drink, he takes her to the police station so she can turn herself in for the hit and run.

“Honey,” she barks at him. “Check the other jail cells for my dreams! See if they’ve been locked up in here for life without the possibility of parole.”

He asks the police if he can jokingly check the jail cells for his wife’s dreams, but the police remind him that a man is dead. This is no time for jokes.

Happy Fun Couple Day!

You’re a Private Detective Day!

She walks into your office with long legs and a face.

“My husband’s having an affair,” she says.

“I’ll take the case,” you say.

The two of you have sex. On the desk?

A week later you confront her because her husband’s dead and you’ve been framed for the murder.

“Yeah,” she says. “Yup.”

The two of you have sex. Against the file cabinet?

Using your detective skills you find out this murder affects all branches of government in every country, even Philadelphia.

“Walk away,” President Obama says to you.

“Fine,” you say.

The two of you have sex. In the Oval Office?

Happy You’re a Private Detective Day!

The Last Hair Stylist In America Day!

Nuclear war. Millions killed. Only a few will survive, including you. You’ll be the last hair stylist in America.

“We need someone who knows agriculture,” the settlement Governor will say when you approach the gate. “And we need physicians of course. And carpenters to help us rebuild, electricians to see if the grids in the area can be up and running again.”

“Your hair looks awful,” tell him. “I can fix that.”

He’ll start to close the gate on you. Stick your foot in the gate to block it.

“Hey,” tell him. “You want to be governor of this little settlement? Or you want to go on to be governor of all the settlements? Because we’re all going to need someone to look up to, but we’re not going to look up to anyone with hair like that.”

He thinks about it. “You can tell I’m ambitious, can you?”

Shake your head. “I can tell you’re a man with bad hair. Let me ply my trade.”

The gate reopens and you begin grooming the future president of the newly risen settlements of the fallen world.

Happy The Last Hair Stylist In America Day!

Be The Girlfriend Of His Dreams Day!

He’ll say, “I really like tea.”

Next time he comes over, have a pot of tea brewing for him. Bam, super girlfriend!

He’ll say, “It sure is cold in here.”

Put your body on his and hold him close to keep him warm. Girlfriend supreme!

He’ll say, “I wish I had a stepladder to reach the shelf above the cabinets in the kitchen."

Over the weekend, hit the Target and buy him a stepladder, then leave it in his kitchen with a little bow on it. Huzzah! You’re the best girlfriend a short dude ever had.

He’ll say, "Jeff at work is really bugging me.”

Break into Jeff’s apartment and hide in his closet until he gets into bed. Pull on your burlap mask, burst out of his closet and pin Jeff to the bed. From the bag on your shoulder, remove the python you bought from Petsmart and let it slither over his face. Tell Jeff if he isn’t nicer to his coworkers, he’s going to find out what it’s like to have his head slowly digested by a reptile. Jeff will agree to be nicer and you’ll have unlocked the Excellent Girlfriend Achievement. Return the python for cash.

He’ll say, “I’m stuck in here.”

Go to a higher floor and pry open the elevator doors, then shimmy down the elevator cable to the roof of the car he’s stuck in. Pop open the escape panel on the roof of the car and tell him to take your hand. Then pull him up out of the car and instruct him to shimmy up the cable to the floor where the doors are open. Encourage him with supportive comments the whole way, letting him know you think he’s really strong to be climbing to safety like this, and he looks handsome when he panics. Awesome girlfriend = You!

He’ll say, “Will you marry me?”

Tell him you appreciate the offer but you’re really trying to get the hang of this girlfriend thing, and if you have to suddenly become his wife, you’ll be starting over at zero and everything you’ve been working toward will just be thrown into the trash. You do that enough, jumping from project to project any time things get challenging, and you don’t want to do it with this. Tell him you should be able to really nail your girlfriend shtick in about four to six more years, then you can start looking into whether or not you want to try and pursue wife stuff, or maybe law school and then, perhaps, politics? He’ll support you because you’re such a good girlfriend, how could he not!

He’ll say, “Then I think we should see other people.”

Introduce him to some friends of yours who you just know would be perfect for him. You’ve got that one friend who always seemed to get a little too physical when she talked to him, resting her hand on his wrist while making a point (Hi Pam!), and you bet they’d hit it off. Arrange a dinner party and sit him next to Pam and watch the sparks fly thanks to some help from little old you, the perfect girlfriend!

He’ll say, “Pam and I are in love and you have to accept this. You said you’d be moved out by today.”

Show him that not only have you moved out, but you’re only hanging around to help Pam move in! You want this to go smoothly for him and you’re not going to let some uncaring movers ruin her things on the first day of their shared life together, because you’re the best girlfriend he could ask for and you better goddamn believe he knows it!

He’ll say, “What are you doing here? Pam and I have been married for years and we have a son who just turned three.”

No duh, that’s why you’re parked outside his house dressed head to toe in a clown costume. Every three-year-old deserves a clown on his birthday, and who better to be that clown than daddy’s unbelievably awesome girlfriend (who just so happens to have taken a semester of Clowning when she was at Brandeis, thank you very much!). Congratulations, you just became the girlfriend of his dreams!

He’ll say, “Pam’s just too busy to pay attention to me anymore. Anyway, it’s been a such a long time since I’ve heard from you and I was wondering what you’re up to. Remember that time you rescued me from a stalled elevator? You were such a good girlfriend.”

Such a good girlfriend? Girlfriend of his dreams! Goddammit, get it right! And once you achieved all you could achieve in the girlfriending realm, you went to law school, killed it, and now you’re a congressional representative for his district. Tell him you’re ready to listen to any concerns he has about how the country is doing and what can be done to make a better America because you are ready to be THE CONGRESSIONAL REPRESENTATIVE OF HIS DREAMS!!!!

Happy Be The Girlfriend Of His Dreams Day!

You Share A Cubicle With Your Girlfriend’s Dad Day!

“Mr. Palmer?” you exclaim as he wheels a chair in and places his briefcase on the stretch of desk you’re not occupying.

“When you’re out of work at my age, after a while you take what you can get,” he says. “So I’m back to temping. Don’t tell my daughter.”

It’s pretty weird to work with your girlfriend’s dad every day, especially keeping it a secret from your girlfriend. But he turns out to be the best cubicle mate you’ve ever had. And the two of you are working together to fulfill your daily tasks and you’re meeting your monthly goals with ease and style.

“The dream team,” your supervisors call out to you as they pass your cubicle.

The only problem is the part about not telling your girlfriend that you temp with her dad.

“We work great together, sure,” her dad says to you over lunch one day. “But my daughter can’t know that her dad’s a temp. And I can’t have you lying to my little girl.”

When you end it with her, she wants a reason. You say you two don’t have enough in common, but you say it like it’s a question and you want her to confirm the answer. She says she thinks there’s something more going on.

“Is it because since your mom started working as a pizza delivery girl at our pizza parlor and I’m her boss now?”

You shake your head no. You try “it’s not you, it’s me,” but she doesn’t buy it. You try everything you can to avoid telling her that her dad is a temp, and he’s the best coworker and cubicle mate you ever had.

“Fine,” she says. “But I’m going to make your mom’s life hell. She’s only going to deliver pizzas to bachelor parties and senior citizens living on tight budgets.”

You shrug. “Like I care. Fire her if you want. My mom’s a big girl.”

You know she won’t. She’s told you over and over that your mom’s the best pizza delivery person she ever had. A natural.

If only you could tell her the same about her dad and his admin assistant skills. But it’s better this way. If pushing her out of your life means her dad can do his work unencumbered by the shame of disappointing his daughter or coercing her boyfriend to lie to her, it’s what has to be done. For the cubicle.

Happy You Share A Cubicle With Your Girlfriend’s Dad Day!

They Used To Call You Doctor Party Day!

“What would they call you now, Doctor Behind Bars?” the prison guard asks.

“No,” you tell him. “They took away my license to practice when my wife overdosed at one of the OxyContin parties I threw monthly using my own prescription pad. So now it’s just Mister Party.”

“Mister Party? Seriously?”

“I’m not going to change my last name just because Karen couldn’t handle her shit.”

The prison guard processes your paperwork and you’re released on parole after a 12-year sentence. You take a few steps into freedom and get the urge to turn around and run back inside. Everyone’s door was wide open when you were Doctor Party. But without a prescription pad, Mister Party has nowhere to go.

Happy They Used To Call You Doctor Party Day!

This Is How You’ll Fall In Love Day!

A bank representative will come to your house and tell you it’s not your house anymore, it’s the bank’s. Your husband will die of a heart attack on the spot. The bank representative will help you try and resuscitate him, but it won’t be any use.

At the funeral, the bank representative will stand by a tree and watch. You’ll go to him, with the same flush of giddiness you felt when you first saw him standing on your porch.

“You felt it too,” you’ll say.

“When we were performing CPR,” he’ll say. “I knew your husband was gone. But I kept performing mouth to mouth. Knowing that his lips had probably recently touched yours, I couldn’t resist putting my mouth to his again and again and again.”

“I thought you were hogging him,” you’ll say with a giggle. “But you were wrong. His lips hadn’t touched mine for quite some time.”

He takes you home because you need a roof over your head and you live the rest of your years together. On your death bed you’ll say to him, “Thank God my dead husband never paid his bills and ruined his heart with fatty foods.”

“Thank God my bank had a no mercy attitude to delinquent borrowers,” he’ll answer.

He kisses you, with the same hungry kiss he gave to your husband when he searched his mouth for a lingering taste of yours. He kisses you to keep you from opening your mouth and saying goodbye.

Happy This Is How You’ll Fall In Love Day!

You Sold The Drugs That A Beloved Actor OD’d On Day!

It’s all over the papers.

“Beloved Actor OD’s On Jennifer’s Drugs.”

You try to go about your day but everyone knows. When you drop your daughter off at day care, the other moms are glaring at you.

“Thanks for making movies suck more, Jennifer,” the Day Care Administrator says as she leads your daughter inside.

At the supermarket, the deli guy goes over the quarter pound of ham that you requested.

“Oh I’m sorry,” he says sarcastically. “But then again, you’re no stranger to giving people more than they can handle.”

When you get home your husband is waiting with his bags packed,

“I can’t stay here,” he says. “I loved that one movie he was in with the horse. Now there’ll never be a sequel, because of your drugs.”

You ask him what he’ll live off of.

“I’ll get a job. I don’t wanna live off your drug money.”

You ask what about his daughter.

“Keep her,” he says. “She was raised on drug money.”

Just to get him started, you give him $500,000 in drug money and send him on his way.

“I respect your decision,” you say.

The next day your secretary has lots of messages for you.

“Lots of people want to buy our drugs!” she says. “They think if it killed that one actor it must be good drugs.”

You hire more people, which stimulates the economy and gets you praise in the news as a job creator.

“That worked out,” you say out loud to no one and nothing.

Happy You Sold The Drugs That A Beloved Actor OD’d On Day!

Kitchen Switchers Day!

You created the new show called Kitchen Switchers where people switch kitchens. So every morning after waking up in their own house they have to drive across town to the house with the kitchen they switched with if they want any coffee or breakfast. It’s a big hit since everyone likes watching people look through kitchen cabinets to find where stuff is.

Today you’re going to get a call that one of your former Kitchen Switchers has returned to the kitchen she switched with.

“Karen?” you’ll say as you enter the kitchen slowly. “What are you doing here? Show’s over.”

“I am where I belong,” Karen will say. “This is my kitchen.”

The mom of the house will whisper in your ear, “We just woke up and there she was. Eating an English Muffin. The last English Muffin I might add.”

“Karen,” say to her, your arms up to show no weapons. “Why don’t we take you back to your kitchen?”

“I said, THIS IS MY KITCHEN!” she screams.

“Okay,” you say. “This is your kitchen. All yours.”

“I always felt there was something off about my life. I love my husband. Love my kids. Love my job. But something made me feel like I wasn’t really me.”

She looks around the room, tears running down her cheeks.

“Then your show came along. And I saw this kitchen and I knew, this is it. This is the kitchen I was supposed to cook in. These fixtures. This model fridge. The way those high cabinets above the sink are organized. It was all so right.”

She seemed to stare at the adjustable faucet nozzle like it was a childhood memory.

“Then you took it away from me,” she says. “Show’s over. Back to your own kitchen.”

You hold still, afraid.

“THEN YOU TOOK IT AWAY FROM ME!!!” she screams as she drives a butter knife into your left temple.

Happy Kitchen Switchers Day!

Bar Talk Day!

A bar is the perfect place to meet new people and have some interesting conversation! So, today, sidle up to the bar next to a stranger with a kind face and say, “Hey friend. Got a story to tell?”

His story will be about the night his son was born, when three masked men arrived at his cabin on horseback and absconded with the newborn, claiming he was the golden one, He who will bring order to the ancient warring tribes of M'al Anan'to. The man gave chase in the rain but a strange force drew him to the ground where he slept. When he woke in the morning, his baby was gone, only the hoofprints remained as evidence of the abduction. His wife never spoke again.

“Hilarious!” you’ll say. “You’re not gonna believe this but I was raised by three masked dudes on horseback! You must be my dad!”

He’ll agree that’s quite a hilarious coincidence. Then the two of you will catch up on how your lives have been. He’ll tell you your mom still doesn’t talk. You’ll tell him that those warring tribes weren’t really warring that much and they just needed an outside party to talk sense. You’ll want to keep talking but your long lost dad will have to leave to catch a movie, so you’ll spend the rest of the afternoon watching a sports talk show on mute on the bar’s flatscreen.

Happy Bar Talk Day!

Watch The Kids You Didn’t Want Day!

Every year you like to check in on the kids of the guy you lived with for six years but you didn’t marry because he wanted kids and you didn’t want them with him.

“I thought my genes were a mess, and his genes are definitely no picnic,” you say to his six-year-old girl, Pam, when she runs over to talk to you at the playground. “But you seem fine.”

You study her face. You see him in it, and hints of someone else. Those hints could have pointed to you.

“Are you studying my face to imagine if your features were on it?” Pam asks.

You nod. “You’d look horrible with my eyebrows,” you tell her. “But I think you would have benefited from my cheekbones. Your mom doesn’t have very defined cheekbones, does she?”

Little Pam shakes her head no. “Pisses me off,” she says.

“You have his big skull,” you say, reaching out to adjust her hair. “They shouldn’t part your hair like that with a skull like his. I hated his haircuts.”

Pam smiles as you take a picture with your iPhone and show it to her. Her older brother Matt runs over and interrupts.

“Don’t talk to her, Pam,” he says. Then, to you, “Stop imagining us with your traits instead of our mom’s. You made your choice, lady.”

“Yes, I made my choice. And I’m happy with it,” you tell him.

“Yeah right. That why you stalk us at the playground once every autumn?” he asks. “Admit it! You wish we sprouted from your eggs, and you’re living your life in regret for giving our dad the kiss-off.”

“As if!” you shout at Matt. You march away from them, pissed. Matt can be such an asshole.

“I’d be so bummed if I was your mom, Matt!” you yell from the parking lot.

Pam looks sad.

“Not you Pam!” you shout. “You’re cool.”

Pam waves and says, “See you next year!” Then she and Matt run and make their nanny put down her phone and give them snacks.

Fuckin’ Matt. He always gets into your head. You’re doing fine. You only check in with them to be glad you don’t have to raise an assmunch like Matt. If only he knew that. Maybe you should write him a letter letting him know.

Pam’s cool though.

Happy Watch The Kids You Didn’t Want Day!

She’s Going To Say No Day!

You hired a high school brass band to lead from the restaurant to a waiting ferry that’s been decorated with petunias, her favorite flower. The ferry will take you deep into the water where the lead singer from her favorite boy band ($7000) will come up from below deck and serenade her with the song that was chosen as the theme for her senior prom, which she did not attend. The ferry will take the two of you to an island where a canopy bed has been assembled and covered in rose petals for her to lay down upon and receive a massage from a Spanish massage therapist who whispers into her ear how beautiful she is every 45 seconds. Next comes the dancing and singing improv troupe that will come out from the trees and pretend to be island natives inventing language so that one of them can write a love letter to your bride-not-to-be. Next come the fireworks spelling her name in the sky, then a white horse will trot out from the palm trees, then the horse will carry her to a beautiful garden full of frolicking bunny rabbits. She’ll lay down and the bunny rabbits, well-trained, will scurry about her and nuzzle her face while you read to her a poem you wrote. Next comes the check in her name for $75,000, followed by a huge cake that her dad will jump out of (stationed in Afghanistan, you petitioned to get him leave for the weekend to be here for this). Finally you’ll get down on one knee and give her the ring with the diamond you mined yourself, a plane will sky write your question across the sky while pre-teen ballerinas flutter about her and drape her in garlands of flowers. You’ll look up into her beautiful eyes and ask if she’ll be willing to spend the next 50 years by your side and she’s going to say no.

Happy She’s Going To Say No Day!

You’re The Landlord Day!

Today you get to be the landlord. Knock on everyone’s door and shout “You have to pay me the rent!” Tell the tenant with a loud stereo, “Hey what’d I tell you about that stereo, pally?” Tell the tenant cooking the smelly stew, “Hey what’d I tell you about that smelly stew? This hallway stinks like a soup kitchen.” Tell the tenant crying because his live-in girlfriend moved out, “Hey what’d I tell you about forgetting all about her and putting yourself out there to find someone new, someone worthy of all you have to offer and who isn’t always restless, always wondering if there’s a prettier, wealthier, more interesting-to-have-sex-with guy out there waiting to welcome her sweet bod into his bed while she’s wasting her time on a dink like you? Quit blowing your nose into your shirttails and go out to the club. Babes await!”

The crying tenant will tell you he appreciates the kind words but he still needs some time.

“Just take good care of her,” he’ll tell you.

Head back down to your apartment where his ex is panting for you to make love to her again because you’re the landlord. Who can resist? It’s not even fair.

Happy You’re The Landlord Day!

You And The Summer Camp Slasher Are In Love Day!

You thought you were protecting her. She’s the last pretty girl who’s still alive of all the Counsellors In Training. Normally that would mean a long drawn out chase before she either narrowly escapes or she ends up killing the murderer. But you just noticed it’s been over a half hour of running through the woods, and there’s no killer chasing her.

“I can’t exactly chase myself,” she says.

“It was you all along,” you tell her. “You killed Brandon and Diane and Maureen and Nandanee and Karen and Mitch and–”

“Is this a roll call? Look this is who I am. I kill hot teens in the woods. I’m not the perfect girl but I’m happy with who I am and I’m not going to have some guy try and change me into what he thinks a girl should be…even if I’m in love with him.”

You blush. You can’t help it. Love. The word that’s been ricocheting around your head ever since you first saw her teaching campers how to tell deer scat from wolf scat. You can’t believe that very same word just crossed her lips.

“I…Guess I love you too.”

You both smile. Then you burst out laughing.

“This is crazy though! I mean, you’re a slasher!”

“And you’re super-hot,” she giggles. “But instead of driving a scythe through your face, all I wanna do is kiss it.”

She takes a step forward.

“Can I?” she asks. “Kiss you?”

You place your hand on her bare shoulder, her skin warm under your palm. You guide her closer to you and she places a kiss on your neck, then your cheek, then your mouth. Then you both lay down on the path in an embrace.

You pull away.

“But if we have sex…”

“Will I have to kill myself?” she says. “We’ll see. I’ll either commit suicide or be a hypocrite, two fates that are worth the risk if it means making love to you right now.”

She kisses you again in a way that lets you know this is no time to discuss hypotheticals. The way she takes you, it’s gentle, but you can sense the violence inside of her.

She stops when you hear a moaning from the woods. Brandon must still be alive.

“Don’t,” you plead. “Stay here with me.”

She smiles, she complies.

After, you fall asleep feeling blissfully ravaged. You wake up when you hear footsteps. She’s just returned from someplace. She curls up behind you on the path, and you notice that you don’t hear Brandon moaning anymore.

Happy You And The Summer Camp Slasher Are In Love Day!

Mom’s Back Day!

“Been 13 years mom,” you tell her.

She looks at you and your brothers.

“And you’re all still as ugly as your father,” she says.

Mom’s gone again.

Happy Mom’s Back Day!

Tell Your Boyfriend What Happened During The Thunderstorm Day!

“I got married,” tell him.

He’ll ask to who.

“Steve something,” say.

You ducked into a bar you’d never been to before to escape the rain. It was already dimly lit and the lights were blinking with the lightning. Steve something was the only other person in the bar.

“It was too romantic to let the opportunity pass,” explain. “The bartender officiated.”

Your uber is outside. Your boyfriend helps you downstairs. You take off your straw hat (you’re honeymooning in Turks and Caicos) and look up at him.

“Is he good to you?” your boyfriend asks.

“Who?”

“Steve something,” he says.

“No idea,” you tell him. “He watched my gimlet while I went to the bathroom.”

“Goddammit!” your boyfriend shouts. “One time I let a vagrant sneak a sip of your drink and you’re gonna hold that over me forever?”

Open the car door.

“Goodbye Dan,” tell him.

“It’s Dave,” your boyfriend will say.

“Dave,” say. “That suits you.”

“It’s been a nice eleven years,” the Dave guy says as your Uber pulls away, taking you to the airport where you’ll fly to the honeymoon suite of Mr. and Mrs. Something.

Happy Tell Your Boyfriend What Happened During The Thunderstorm Day!

Give Up On Dad Day!

Dad’s not coming.

“He is,” you tell your bride as she waits for you to recite the vows you wrote.

He’s not. And the caterer never got the check Dad said he’d give them. Mom’s new husband Rick will have to pay for that.

“I hate Rick,” you tell your brother and Best Man. “I’d rather everyone go hungry than have mom’s Rick pay a dime for my wedding. Just wait, Dad’ll get here.”

The owner of the wedding venue walks up the aisle and pulls you into a non-consensual embrace from which you can’t escape. Her mouth near enough to your ear to send a whisper straight to your spine, she says,

“Kid. We get married when we realize the limits of the family we were born into, and we decide to try and do better by making a family of our own. You reached the limit of how much a man can shuffle his feet. That girl there in the white, you make her wait a second longer and you’ll give her something to wonder about for the rest of your lives together. Give up on your Pa or I’m calling this wedding a no-go right now. I won’t allow a marriage to start like this. Not under my gazebo.”

She releases you and you take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife while your father dances with a prostitute in a motel off the highway, the money for the caterer now cocaine.

Happy Give Up On Dad Day!