And still she dreams of more pleasant things like tropical beaches where man hardly reaches, and trips to the moon in a hot air balloon, or seeing her face grace the media place, but a year is now five and now barely alive, she waits for her fifteen minutes of fame to arrive.

As the night drew to a close, two intoxicated twenty-something trailer trash white chicks continued table dancing, shaking their booty and losing their balance as I continued wishing for one of them to fall.


Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist