– tony.espino –

a human. for now.

1.16 | july

chronicle of an unreliable voice

Folder 34

I’m waiting for the day this car breaks down. It’s bound to happen eventually. Has to. I don’t want it to, but it will. Just like one day maybe when I wake up I realize an aberration in my current body. It’s nothing at first, but then warrants a doctor visit. From then on the body is no longer the same. It’s reminding you of its deterioration and its temporary state. Unlike your car you can’t sell your busted up body, and let it be someone else’s problem while you bargain for a better one. That point was never more depressing to me than the moment I was driving over the bridge and puking out the window.


The man was brushing the cobwebs out of the Mad Lady’s hair. She couldn’t reach her head with her own arms. Not anymore. Her arms had stayed the same length, but it was her neck that grew. She had lost count of the number of spirits that attached themselves to her over the years. Their weight had gradually pulled her shoulders and torso lower and lower stretching her neck into a grotesque abnormality.
“Did you remember to use conditioner?” the man asked.
The Mad Lady struck a match against her neck and fed it to the phantom replica.


There’s a way to go about throwing up out a car window while driving. Don’t panic and don’t make suspicious faces. Just smile and act natural. I didn’t understand that at the time. I hung my head out the window and panted at the colorful weave and bedazzled nails at the toll booth.
The lamp lit up. EZ Pass Paid.
“Oh you gonna take your time?”

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This entry was posted on July 6, 2016 by in art, comedy, entertainment, funny, humor, journal, weird, writers, writing and tagged , , , , , , , .

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