The day I learned I was not a human. When I could get people to do what I wanted since I want an alien and had powers.

A calm Sunday, Kevin has some mild existential anxiety. Then he meets a customer that reminds him just how special he is..

Kevin King has a hard time with a busy shift at his job, and it results in high anxiety for Super King.

This post is a meaningful word salad, that is explaining the all of Purchase High Come Down. Hope you enjoy

Extreme unsobriety thoughts in a nutshell. For realt. Very random morning thoughts in a relatable freestyle way.

As they descended into darkness, Hades found himself wondering how, in just twenty minutes, his quiet, orderly existence had become so thoroughly complicated. There was something almost admirable about how completely she'd steamrolled through every single one of his objections without even realizing she was doing it. She's like a natural disaster, he mused, listening to her excited observations about stalactite formations. But the kind that leaves wildflowers growing in the wreckage. Behind them, the meadow began to wither as Demeter discovered her daughter was gone, but that was a problem for tomorrow. Today, apparently, he was getting married. How did this even happen? he thought as Persephone's delighted laughter echoed through the tunnels.

After a bad dream reliving the day his father walked out, Super King is reassured when a kind woman provides the reassurance he didn't know he needed.

Super King spends the day at the convenience store, offering assistance to customers as they pass through.

Everyone has a love story, right? They all play into each other like strings of who knows what, wrong, I've been waiting my whole life, I'd change my dating profile to bad to fierce to innocent, even to myself, nothing works honnestly if life were a kdarma i wouldn't even be the scandalous girl boss, I probably wouldn't be on crew thats how messed my love life was until i met him oh you think it got better wrong it got worst.

A comedic conversation that last over a thousand hours about the same thing over and over let me tell you all about it as letting me tell you all about it will take up at least a thousand hours of your time

It's a story about a young girl growing up with her weiner dog peanut, she grows yo with him as they are best friends.

Elara's eyes widened. "A cat! Oh, the plight of the feline! Fear not, brave traveler. You have stumbled upon Elara Vance, purveyor of unconventional solutions and occasional guardian of the lost. Consider your journey home… an adventure." She paused, then added, "Do you happen to have a spare feather? For good luck, you understand."

We sent her to Corpus Christi, TX because she was dumb. She had her hands in the marmalade. She did not know how to make breakfast. She was stupid. And she had an attitude problem. So, we told her that she's going to Corpus. We put her on the bus. We gave her $100. And that they would pick her up in Corpus. Well, she got to Corpus Christi, TX. She had given the bus driver the $100. I don't know why. So, she didn't have any money when she got to Corpus Christi, TX, but the family that was going to take care of her did. Buy food and give her clothing and things like that. A few months later I get a phone call. And it's the family in Corpus. They can't stand her anymore. She continues to put her hands in the marmalade. She doesn't know how to make breakfast. She doesn't cook, she doesn't clean, and she gives everybody in the household a hard time. So now I must look for another family and this time I believe I know which family might be able to help her. And it's the Jimenez famil

It was a quiet evening when Pablo’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen—Aunt Lupita. He answered, already sensing something was off. Her voice came through sharp, cutting through the calm: “Who’s over there?” she asked. “I heard voices. Are you having friends over again?”

Some people have a way of turning ordinary days into memorable—if chaotic—stories. Such is the case with a woman whose struggles with basic life skills have left those around her constantly problem-solving. Her heart is in the right place, but simple tasks often take unexpected turns, creating small crises that require quick fixes.

It was a quiet evening when Pablo’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen—Aunt Lupita. He answered, already sensing something was off. Her voice came through sharp, cutting through the calm: “Who’s over there?” she asked. “I heard voices. Are you having friends over again?”

Agnes 80s, sharp-tongued, wields her walker like a weapon, Stan 70s, meticulous, always with a spreadsheet, Doris 60s, flamboyant, a walking fashion statement, and Bertram 90s, grunting, surprisingly strong are enjoying their morning coffee. The air is filled with the gentle clinking of china and the murmur of conversation. A tray of coffee sits on the table. One pot is clearly labeled "EXPERIMENTAL - DO NOT CONSUME."

Bernard 40s, impeccably dressed, carrying a briefcase and lunchbox with military precision strides purposefully down a city sidewalk. His movements are sharp, efficient. He checks his watch – a gleaming, antique pocket watch – every few steps.

The screen door slammed shut behind the agents, the sound echoing through Wilma Jean’s surprisingly tidy cabin like a gunshot in a Baptist church. Wilma, perched on her porch swing, nursing a glass of sweet tea the color of a Georgia sunset, watched them go. Two young whippersnappers, fresh out of Quantico and clearly more accustomed to chasing down cybercriminals than elderly bank robbers who also happened to preach the gospel. She chuckled, a low rumble in her chest that shook the swing slightly. Retirement, she’d thought, would be peaceful. Quiet. Maybe a little too quiet.

Their breakfast was simple: two perfectly toasted croissants, still warm from the oven, accompanied by their iced tea, this morning lightly sweetened with a squeeze of Meyer lemon. The tea, a ritual as much as a beverage, was always prepared with the same meticulous care. Eleanor, a former magazine editor with an eye for detail, insisted on using only the freshest lemons, selecting each one with a discerning touch, ensuring just the right balance of tartness and sweetness. Arthur, her longtime friend and fellow editor, would often tease her about her obsession with the perfect cup, a playful banter that underscored their easy intimacy.