...carry my dog in a purse or ask strangers for condoms or buy a $75 pair of underpants (even if they're red) or ask you what size you wear or poke your eyes out in old photos with a sharp pencil or answer the phone on even-numbered days or call your mother dirty names or paint my living room beige or eat donuts from the dumpster behind the strip mall or throw away a book, even if it's coming apart or tell wicked lies about your cat or sip bourbon from a man's tasseled loafer or fire a gun or join the marines or steal your mail or sneak a look at your paycheck or leave you behind to be eaten by zombies or swallow a bug on purpose or stop believing in ghosts or bury a body where somebody might find it or use water to put out a grease fire or skip breakfast to lose weight or wear a white shirt with armpit stains or argue with a physicist about how to survive a nuclear winter or become one of those people who is always trying to sell you stuff or say something I know is going to make you feel like shit unless you really, really had it coming.
Susan Slaviero lives on the cusp of a hellmouth, where she vanquishes evil with poetry and cupcakes. She hopes to someday land a job as either a dog whisperer or a telephone psychic. In the meantime, she writes. She has a fondness for esoterica.