A Tale of Two Stories

A Tale of Two Stories

     Just kidding. It's not about the cermingling of two twisted tales. These are just two stories I scribbled down. Care to listen? Please critique if you please.

Love,

The Blue Jade Press

Super Lady & Kryptonite 

I want every splinter of you gone. Whenever my heart beats, that little strand of you punches against it. I want every part of you gone. Your thoughts, your memories, reminders, influences, being, sayings, inside jokes, expectations. I don't want to look at you and be reminded that I have to be ordinary. To live by others' standards. Why should you keep me from being the superlady that I am? Shouldn't I be flying through revolving doors and saving kittens (puppies, let's be honest) from trees?

(That font is SwingSet BB from Fonts.com if this shows up)

Mac

Mac never failed to follow his routine. Every morning came with a freshly steamed gray and blue tie (occasionally a red one if he felt daring), half of a cup of expresso, and the first three articles of the Wall Street Journal. Every morning was pristine and somewhat sterile, almost as if the days had been as starched white as Mac's dress shirts. All was in order, the numbers kept, every linen folded exactly the same as the day before. This is why Mac did his job so well. His orderliness was impeccable. 

Of the few houseguests he had, they all believed he had a maid. When he shook his head, they all sighed in disbelief and partial disgust. It was a crime to make your own bed anyways. Mac mostly only ever had company to prove that the house wasn't haunted, but left his door locked after the first few years of forcing people into his house. Every time they would touch something, knock over a glass, or spill wine on his white rugs, white walls, white couch. It simply was not worth the hassle. And so his gate was left to swing in the wind, and make eery creeks for the children to squeal at. 

Hey, don't tell me they're not related. Can't you see the connection? Philistine. (I still love you)