Day 100 of 💯: A journey of a thousand years must start somewhere, and it usually begins with the love of a man for a woman. — The ropes were taut, stretching Kae spreadeagle on my work area, completely exposed. No hidden mysteries. Nothing concealed here. Her most delicate secrets, exposed to the world. Or at least to me. My songbird, only singing for me now. “It didn’t have to be this way. Our love could have…

Day 99 of 💯: When a hot babe says “Hop in,” you hop in and to hell with the consequences. — “Hop in, handsome,” the lady said to me as I was hitchhiking home from college. It’s almost always horny old dudes looking for a young guy to blow who picks you up on this stretch of road, but a hot babe was a pleasant change. I’d miss the extra pocket…

Day 98 of 💯: Nothing beats slow smoked pork BBQ with coleslaw and creamy potato salad when you’re picnicking on Independence Day. — Yanking my dick out of Julie’s mouth before it spews its love juice down her throat, I aim it directly into the awards winning potato salad she was going to take out to the picnic. “Hey, I did the work. I should get the spunk!” “I’m in a sharing mood…

Day 97 of 💯: Stare too long at an empty page, and your world will change forever. — The writer sits, an empty page in his typewriter, waiting for inspiration. Waiting for his muse to appear, to guide him in his writing. Ignoring the dull hum of the fan — his only salvation in the humid August nights of New Orleans — he opens a fresh bottle of…

Day 96 of 💯: The city is always a beautiful site when we’re coming in for a clear night landing — Being a commercial pilot for hire can be a stressful profession, especially if you have a drunken men’s football club on board. They get out of hand pretty quickly. Usually, the locked steel doors muffle the pleas and cries of the unlucky stewardesses, but sometimes you can still hear the…

Day 95 of 💯: It was a helluva party last night, if only I could remember it. And now it burns when I pee. — Looks like it’s another trip to the free clinic. The party last night was off the wall — vodka, coke, pizza, football on the big screen, and cheap hookers. The parties frat boys dream about, and I live every weekend. I hope it isn’t the antibiotic-resistant gonorrhea I caught on…

Day 94 of 💯: Why do even the most simple of plans never go off without a hitch? — The plan was the kind of plan you come up with after a weekend of opioid driven madness which had become our lives. Simple, effective, and stupid. Jorge would grab the peyote, I would get the tequila, and Sally would get ridden like the slut she was. It was going…

Day 93 of 💯: A quick drink in a run-down neighbourhood bar is the prelude to a murder. — “Whiskey, neat.” She was a good-looking dame. Classy, and well put together; the kind of dame you don’t ever see here. Diamonds, pearls, and a Chanel suit. “Whatever the house pours is what I want.” A classy dame, slumming it. Probably likes the taste of working men, without the prying…

Day 92 of 💯: First rule of escaping: pay attention to your surroundings. — As the flames licked at my feet, like an oversized puppy from hell, all I could do was try to scratch my back on the stake. The itch was driving me crazy. The damn witch I killed fortnite last had cast a spell on me, I am sure. I didn’t…

Day 91 of 💯: As age numbs the hands and the brain, a time will come when even the fastest amongst us will fall to the new breed. — When I rub my hands briskly under the hot water, the circulation returns, and I can feel my fingers again. This isn’t always a good thing, as the pain of the arthritis makes holding my cane more difficult. But it is one more thing we endure for living a long…

Day 90 of 💯: A life dedicated to justice brings only a sliver of hope to a community besieged with evil. — The acrid smell of spent gunpowder hung like a blanket in the alleyway, with the echos of my snub nose still drifting through the neighbourhood. I give buddy a nudge with my boot, but he ain’t moving. Two slugs in the back of his head made sure of that. I…

Day 89 of 💯: An olde tyme lightkeep reminisces about the past, and considers the ramifications of the future. — Being a lightkeeper was a lonely, thankless job at the best of tine, but now with everything automated, redundant, and centralized, the job is no more. …

Day 88 of 💯: When Death bets your immortal soul that you can’t nutt on his face, you do what you have to do. — I never expected to meet the Grim Reaper in person until it was my time, but there he was. …

Day 87 of 💯: The earth gives us nourishment, and in return we give back to it. — I was only twelve when I found the body. It was old Mrs. Hendrickson, the librarian. She lived alone with her poodle, down the lane. She must have fallen in her garden when she was getting some vegetables and hit her head. I guessed the corpse was only a few…

Day 86 of 💯: An epiphany of the soul in a lonely mosque delivers a cruel finality to existence. — Blinded by the sudden sunlight, I falter. The prayer house has been deserted ever since our forces breached the walls of the old city, but its spirit remained strong. It remained engaged, as though the spirits of its departed parishioners were still here. Praying. fasting. Celebrating. I catch my breath…

Day 85 of 💯: Sometimes the best way to let someone know you’re thinking of them is to drop them a letter. — Dearest Franco, I thought I should send you a note before it’s all over the grapevine. Because that fucking government you voted in just cut our pensions, your mother and I have started a Pornhub channel. We haven’t filmed any new episodes, yet, since we have several boxes of VHS…

Day 84 of 💯: Liquid courage can only take you so far. Sometimes real courage is required. — The shot glass shattered in my hand as I slammed it down after downing the cheapest tequila I had ever had the misfortune to taste. Taking a strip from my undershirt, I fashioned a quick bandage for my hand, and took a deep breath. They had paid me a lot…

Day 83 of 💯: My apology letter to you, for me being me and raw-dogging your mom in the produce aisle of the supermarket — Dearest Occupant, It is with my deepest regret, I admit to putting a brown paper bag over your mom’s head and fucking her pussy while dozens of shoppers and store employees watched. She was on her hands and knees, admiring the zucchini with lust, when I grabbed the paper bag…

Day 82 of 💯: When you’re feeling down, the only way up is through the sound of your guitar and the bottom of your bottle. — The bottle of Wild Turkey 101 sat staring at me, its turkey eyes boring through my skull. Uncle Joe had brought a couple of fifths over to cheer me up after catchin’ Mary Lou with ol’ Doc Johnson’s toys in her pussy, but it hadn’t worked. We’d killed the first…

Day 81 of 💯: If Lady Liberty needs the loving. I’ll do my patriotic duty. — Having a Swiss made cock of steel is a blessing and a curse. It needs to be wound and oiled constantly, or the spring works seize up. If a cock of steel can’t get it up, ain’t no blue pills in the world that’ll help. But once it’s wound up…