1.Snow Plow
I’m plowing the slushy snow when my snow plow bursts into flames. It’s February. It’s my third day on the job. It’s a beautiful and disgusting winter morning. Amid the churning fire, the clock reads 4:17 a.m. The snow parts like flesh before me. The windshield fogs up like the soap-scummed door of a marble-lined shower stall. I grip the steaming steering wheel as my hands cough acrid smoke. Despite all this, I drive on. What else can I do in this situation? My life is a pile of dried-up orange peels sitting atop a cracked ceramic plate. I have not vomited since the year 2006, but I now know that this achievement does not deserve a bullet point on my resume. I fear I must overcome this obstacle before I can advance to the next stage of my life. So I unbuckle my seatbelt and begin punching myself in the abdomen. Nothing happens. My stomach is an oblong spheroid of rough-hewn magnetite. The base of my throat crackles with the fury of a large grease fire. Sharp and milky tears flow from my aching eyeballs. Outside, a Maine Coon watches from a nearby snowbank, its green-gold eyes glinting in the winter gloom.
2.Leadership
There is a bathroom in the basement of the glass hotel with three ATMs and no toilet. The bathtub shines like a headless statue of polished pink marble. The naked lightbulb hovers overhead as a lump of used fryer grease. A black ram stands in the corner of the room, chomping on a mouthful of discarded debit card receipts. I circle the small room three times. The ram’s alien, rectangular pupils follow me with shiny curiosity. Hours later, as I slide your fingers along the crazed spike of the ram’s gnarled horn, a sensation of mortal horror waltzes across the linoleum of my aching body. It is a magnificent and terrifying sensation. It desiccates my stomach into a dull and crusty raisin. It is the most beautiful emotion I have experienced in the thirty-seven years of my barren and acrid life.