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One thing you could say was that he had nerve.
On the playground the older bully tried to make him submit.
“Is that all you got?”
Answered by a flurry of punches.
Jack laughed a belly laugh.
The lasting joy of not being broken
was well worth the pain of getting clocked a few times.
no one else in the world.
i had to do this.
there is no one else in sight.
they were the only ones left.
they were the only ones who mattered.
he had to be with me.
she had to be with him.
i wanted to kill him.
i started to cry.
i turned to him.
True story. Google has been feeding it’s Artificial Intelligence with more than 11,000 unpublished books, including 3,000 steamy romance titles. In response, the AI wrote this 55 word story above. I rearranged a couple of sentences, because I’m human and I can do what I feel.
Her sister said that she could tell by his face that he was going to get fat when he got older.
“That’s a terrible thing to say.” said Lizette.
“You like him.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do, you like him.”
“He’s like 20 and he’s gay.”
“He’ll always be skinny.”
“I knew it!”
Jack Sprat could eat no fat.
He had a bit of an eating disorder
and was fond of purging.
Unusual in men, but not without precedent.
His wife, Glenda, could eat no lean.
She was type 2 diabetic simply from loving donut holes
and pounding french fries.
Together, they made every meal an adventure.
It’s all a fiction.
The chem trails, the midnights, the turnaround, the memories, the plight.
The magic, the movement, the intervals of resistance, the makeshift, the misbegotten.
All made up.
Eve inhaled a day dream, seeing her illusion clearly before her.
She imagined how she could bend the plot and make the story end well.
Cartwright time traveled 16 hours.
Came to on the 10, slow poking the fast lane.
A low rider pulled upside and a wild-eyed neck tattoo flipped him off.
Dumb fuck followed in hot pursuit.
The dude was a Golden Gloves champ.
“He didn’t hit me that hard,” said Cartwright, “He just hit me a lot.”
“Did you get it?”
“I couldn’t, they were home.”
“We gotta go back.”
“They’re still home.”
“I don’t care, I’ll go with you.”
“And do what?”
“I don’t know…distract them for a minute.”
“They’re not idiots. They already don’t trust you.”
“We gotta do something…look I’m shaking.”
“Have a drink and stop pacing!”