The Milk Carton Boy

Back when we were little kids, my friends and I would bitch about how our parents would always make us eat our vegetables and drink our milk. Edgar, however, never had to drink his milk. His parents were hotshot lawyers and we all thought they were more concerned with some new case than with their own son’s milk consumption. Edgar would also be gone for days without ever getting into trouble. We envied him, even though this lack of caring made him sad. Being a cocky asshole at the time, I made a joke about how one day Edgar’s parents would find his picture on a milk carton long before they even realized he was missing. Everyone laughed. Edgar didn't. He punched me in stomach, making me drop my milk, and walked away. I totally deserved it, but as the milk spilled over the ground, I could almost hear Edgar’s tears role down his cheeks.

I later found out that Edgar was actually lacto-intolerant. Even so, I'm sure he still wished his parents cared more about him.

The Expired Lovers

Everything has an expiration date. Milk, rice, meat, cookies, beer, dreams... everything. Even most relationships are best enjoyed before a certain date. Canned stuff usually lasts a bit longer. It may even last a few years, but eventually, it too, will go bad. This is something Dagny and Hugo learned the hard way. Air oxidizes, bacteria grows, boredom settles in, goals change... It's a shame we don't have expiration-date labels to warn us when our relationships will start to spoil and rot. It would avoid a lot of heartbreak.
Although, it would probably take away some of the flavor, as well.

The Origami Travelers

"WILL TRADE RIDE FOR ORIGAMI"

That's what their sign said. Late last summer, I met these two guys who were hitchhiking across the country. Andy and Frank. Their plan was to see the most they could in a month's time, but spend the least amount of money possible. They had a small per diem for food and, of course, a little extra for beer. For the rest, they traded origami cranes.
Besides the ride, my roommates and I offered them a couch to sleep on. After a couple of weeks of sleeping in a tent, Andy and Frank looked at the couch like it was a king-sized bed at a 5-star hotel packed with a couple of sexy masseuses ready to make them happy. That day, we took them to see the city, swapped stories, had a mean steak dinner and hit the bars as hard as we could. The next morning, horribly hungover, we said our goodbyes to Andy and Frank. They left our little city to continue their adventure, trading more origamis with all those they met.
We shouldn't need much to be happy and when it comes to travelling and meeting new people, all we really need are a few origamis and an open spirit.

The Multitasker

Multitasking can be a very useful talent. I used to know this girl who was an outstanding multitasker. She would mentally divide her tasks into categorized boxes and then she would juggle these tasks with such amazing ease that her life ran like a smooth machine. I learned two important things from this girl. The first thing was that, to be a really efficient multitasker, you can't juggle the tasks alone, you must juggle your emotions, as well. For example, she would smile at a client even if in the previous minute, she was screaming at her thieving mechanic or crying about some weight remark her mother might have made. The other thing I learned from this girl was that a good multitasker can also be a pretty good liar. The lies become another task to juggle, but one misstep and your boxes are ripped to shreds. The girl's name is Angelica and not only is she a multitasker, she's also a lying bitch.

The Giant Battler

If you've heard the story of David and Goliath, then you'll also know the story of Barry's bookstore and his tireless battle against the major online retailer who's name shall not stain this post. As a scare tactic, this ruthless giant never washes off the blood of it's victims and it's heart became a hole when the beast grew too big. Attacking it with any sort of sentimentality is pointless. Still, some small businesses wish to court the ugly Goliath, but Barry believes that this is the same as bending over, letting it empty your pockets while it anally probes you, and then saying 'thanks' at the end. Barry will not bend over.

Barry told me that to get his bookstore to prosper, he has to attack the giant's head. He has to outsmart it by giving his clients what the big beast can't: A thoroughly personalized, innovating, friendly and agile service. Barry's financial situation is not always the best, but year after year, he manages to battle the hungry giant away from his market, one stone at a time... I mean, one book at a time.

The Hemorrhoid Walker

Years ago, some friends and I went to a concert. Since the concert was far from where we lived and we had nowhere to stay, as soon as it was over, we had to hurry in order to catch the buses and the trains that would take us home. 

"Hurry Martin, hurry!" Martin wouldn't hurry. He was making this weird face like he had a cucumber  up his butt and he walked slowly. Painfully slow. We needed him to hurry, but he wouldn't, he couldn't. He had a problem that impeded him from hurrying. He didn't want to tell us what was wrong, but we knew exactly what the problem was. Martin should've had his fibers that week and left the little monsters at home, but instead, he brought them out for a walk and from his facial expressions, the nasty little fuckers had sharp teeth. We wouldn't leave our good friend behind, so instead, we slowed down… and made jokes. Yeah, evil was our middle name. Martin’s middle name was The Hemorrhoid Walker.

The Innocence (inter. #10)

As you can see from the pic, 5 years ago, my cat Mia was a cute and fragile little ball of fur. Today, she’s a fully grown adult. Despite her sociopathic tendencies and her narcissistic nature, she still has that same aura of innocence in her. She’s big and strong and treats me like her slave, but she’s still as innocent as the day she was born. Animals keep that purity until the very end.

I wish the same could be said about people.

The Infinite Drunk

At Jack's last check-up, the doctor told him that his liver looked like something a hideous wart-riddled ogre would put in its soup. Jack smiled with pride. Jack is 28 and writes gut-wrenching poetry. He quit smoking two years ago, but he'll never quit drinking. Jack thinks of alcohol as a friend. "It may make me puke my guts out on occasion, but it also helps me keep my head above this horribly boring toilet world." No one can get in between such a strong friendship and nothing will ever make Jack change his mind. As long as he wants, he'll always have a drink in his hand. Sometimes, someone will ask Jack how long he plans on continuing this damaging relationship. His answer is always the same: 

"To infinity... and beyond!" 

Some will say that a long life is the best you can wish for a person. I just want him to be happy.

The Lost Anarchist

Many years ago, before the internet, I met an anarcho-activist called Felix. I don't remember how we met, but he had a store that sold old-school punk albums, thought-provoking t-shirts and books on political philosophy. The store was very far from where I lived, so we mostly spoke on the phone. Whenever I bought stuff from him, he would send it through snail mail, always accompanied by free pamphlets and booklets on current ideologies and movements. One day, Felix told me he was closing the store due to a lack of clients. This was sad news...
Over the years, I eventually lost his phone number and most of the stuff he gave me. The fucking internet came too late... With no last name, no email, and no social network page, all that's left are the memories of our talks. And with all the political turmoil going on in the world right now, I sure wish I still had access to his invaluable knowledge.
Maybe Felix has changed his ways, maybe he's accepted the world, maybe he's burned all his material and is now working at some boring office... I doubt it. I'm pretty sure the bastard's still out there with his fists in the air, shouting for what is right. We need people like Felix, protesting against what is wrong and inspiring new ways of making the world a better place.

The Empty Girl

You're thinking this is a story about some vain girl who only cares about celebrity gossip and designer clothing, right? Not this time. Hannah is actually an avid reader and volunteers at an animal shelter. She studies chemistry and is a big fan of philosophical debates. Hannah's also constipated. She spends hours sitting on the bathroom toilet trying to do stuff she just can't. While she's there, she thinks about her life and her place in the world. While she's there, she writes little poems on her smartphone and checks her social awareness websites. While she's there, on that unfriendly toilet seat from hell, she dreams of a happy and normal bowel movement. Existentialism can be painfully excruciating, but for Hannah, it doesn't come close to the empty soul wrecking feelings of congenital constipation.

Some pains are simpler than others, but they still hurt...