99 maga balloons

The war is go­ing to start
when Trump gets con­fused and feels threat­ened be­cause some oth­er id­iot let go of 99 MAGA bal­loons.

The im­pend­ing threat
of nu­clear an­ni­hi­la­tion has me ques­tion­ing every de­ci­sion I make.

For ex­am­ple,
do I re­al­ly want the last song I hear to be Sis­ter Chris­t­ian by Night Ranger?

I’m not above
rock­ing out to this song,
just as I’m not above rock­ing out to,
say,
Heat of the Mo­ment by Asia,
or,
Your Love by The Out­field.

But
time could be more of a pre­cious com­mod­i­ty than I re­al­ize.

How­ev­er,
I DO hope that if I ever hap­pen upon a time ma­chine and I show up in 1985, it’s blast­ing wher­ev­er I pop up in the fu­ture, prefer­ably a mall park­ing lot at night where teenagers are lean­ing against cars.

*scratch­ing back of neck*
Gosh,
I mean,
I don’t need to fly like,
Jet Blue or any­thing,
but I cer­tain­ly can’t af­ford first class, so …

—emi­ly duchaine

Flom­mist Emi­ly Duchaine lives in the Pa­cif­ic North­west. She likes to drink mead, learn about sharks, and lis­ten to the Talk­ing Heads. She pre­tends to be a pro­fes­sion­al busi­ness­woman most days. Copy­right © 2017 Emi­ly Duchaine.

MOR D’ARTÍCULOS  MOR FLOMM !

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liv­ing in a war zone get the hell out of our so­ci­ety doones­buries sort­ing dear don­ald, game over 2016 we just knew how ed­u­cat­ed we are