Fire & Flood

If my hair gets any frizzier, I'll shave it to the scalp. Or light it on fire. Whichever is easier.

When I first saw the sand, I thought it was beautiful. Like maybe it'd be fun to just roll around in and make sand angels. Now I know the truth, that sand is actually the love child of proud parents Marie Antoinette and Joseph Stalin.

When the sun begins to set, we do exactly as we did the night before. Caroline fusses over Dink. Jaxon ogles Harper. The boys gather desert debris for our beds. Guy watches me undress. I imagine our wedding.

But there’s often more truth found when we sleep than when we wake. Dad used to always say that.

Oh Jesus. I’m already talking to myself. Or thinking to myself as if there are two of me. Is that the same thing? I’m not sure. But I do know I’ve been alone for two minutes and I’m already losing my shit.

Something is definitely up. That or my family is auditioning for a remake of The Shining.

So ...” Jaxon says. “Did that elephant just spit up water and we all drank it?

The cheetah. Ate. My finger.” The girl looks at each of us.“That’s what you’re telling me? That Jaxon’s Pandora ate the pinkie from my right hand? My writing hand?” “To be fair, he won it from M-4.

He holds up two fingers - his pointer and middle - places them under his eyes, and then points in front of us.

Ik ben in een oerwoud. Ik ben in dit stomme oerwoud. Met een magische wasbeer " - Ransom