Fat, Apathetic and Tepid

FICTION

Read Now

SOCIAL COMMENTARY

Read Now

HUMOR

Read Now

POETRY

Read Now

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Read Now

MUSIC

Read Now


MIKE HANSEN FICTION

Mourning Skye: Chapter 2 (part 2)

“No, you slut! I just asked if you remembered him.” “Of course I remember him. Everybody used to make fun of that poor guy.” Angeline said. “They probably still do, unfortunately. But he had this caretaker. Like a manny.” “That fucking Josh Hartnett looking guy who was fresh out of college?” Angeline interrupted. Sammy slowly nodded her head and stuck her tongue through her teeth as she smiled. Angeline hit her with her elbow again. “How the hell did you do that? And how the hell did I not know about it?” “I told you can’t tell anyone.” “Why the hell not? That dude is hot as hell!” “Because, bitch. I was only 16 at the time.” “Scandalous.” “Told you I wasn’t so innocent.” “Apparently not.” Angeline stumbled on her own feet and Sammy steadied her as they continued forward. “I need some details. All of them.” She put her hand up to her mouth motioning back and forth sticking her tongue into the side of her cheek. “Are you 16 now?” Sammy asked. Angeline shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t even know where to start.” “From the beginning of course.” “Well, in the summer after sophomore year my mom set me up to help tutor Mikey in math. I’ve always been a math whiz.” “You’re kind of rain manny.” “I’m an excellent driver. I drive slow on the driveway when my dad came to Walbrook.” Angeline laughed at Sammy’s bad impression. “So, there I was. Sitting in Mikey Magoo’s kitchen, with these giant tits when I was 16 and what do I see walk in the back door, shirtless?”...

Mourning Skye: Chapter 2 (part 1)

Angeline sloppily pulled a cigarette from her purse and nearly broke the cigarette as she put it to her lips. She took a few steps and then reached back into her large black, leather purse for her lighter. She continued walking forward as she foraged for the lighter. She brought the purse up closer to her face and looked in as she moved the items inside her purse. Angeline had all of Skye’s characteristics except that she dyed her hair a deep shade of blue. She was tall and slender and had freckles speckling her face. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue to match her hair. Her eyes weren’t listless, rather enthusiastic dampened by the drunkenness of draft beer. Her face was beautiful and her skin was soft with youth. She accentuated her eyes with liner and let the rest of her beauty shine naturally. She found the lighter and as she was bringing the yellow Bic lighter out of the purse her foot hit a curb and she stumbled forward and the lighter crashed to the sidewalk with three bounces and rested near Sammy’s feet. Sammy bent over and picked up the lighter and gave it to Angeline who was nervously laughing. Sammy was Angeline’s best friend since the fourth grade. Sammy was a few inches shorter than Angeline and weighed the same. Her weight was carried in her bra which would normally make her the object of many men’s affections, but she did not have a face that carried the same attraction. It wasn’t ugly by most standards, it was just something that, with Sammy’s...

Mourning Skye: Chapter 1 (part 2)

“Yeah, I guess.” “We already established that broads are pretty crazy right?” Miles asked. “Pretty established I think.” Adam replied while cocking his head waiting for the insight. “Doesn’t it make sense that at the end of your relationship you were more of just a buddy than anything?” he prodded. “Not sure I’m following 100 percent.” “Look, this girl has had some shitty shit happen to her in her life. Dead dad. On again, off again lesbo mom. Which is totally awesome, by-the-by. Another dead guy in her life.” Miles leaned his head forward and cocked an eyebrow. “I’m seriously getting lost now.” Adam retorted. “Alls that I’m saying is that maybe she just wasn’t feeling you at the time.” “She wasn’t feeling me?” “Yeah, she wasn’t feeling you. Like, at that time period. Maybe you were getting too serious for her and she wanted to push you away. You guys weren’t dating that long.” “What are you a regular fucking Carl Rogers?” Adam quipped. Miles looked confused but continued on anyway. “No man. I don’t want to be your god damned neighbor. I’m just trying to say that it seems like that this broad didn’t want you too close so that is why she got cold towards you at the end. I don’t even know if she was thinking about ending it or anything then, but more of a protection thing.” Miles said. Adam leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair clearing the strands of dirty blond hair from his eyes. He uncrossed his legs and re-crossed them, putting his other leg on...

Mourning Skye: Chapter 1 (part 1)

The afternoon sky was crisp, but had little bite. A plume of smoke escaped Adam’s mouth as he lit the end of his cigarette. He sat down, outside of the coffee shop, in faded jeans, a faded shirt and a faded state of mind. His radiant hazel eyes were squinting as the shadows of the trees danced on his brow. He tilted his head back and blew a cloud of smoke into the otherwise cloudless sky. Adam sat at the table of the coffee shop and held his cup of coffee in his right hand. He was, by every sense of the word, an attractive man. His green eyes had a feline quality to them. They didn’t glow in the dark, but they seemed to glow while you talked to him. They were definitely more green than yellow, which held the intrigue much longer. He was tall and thin. He was not overly tall. Slightly taller than average. He also wasn’t thinner than normal. He wasn’t built, but he was not skin and bones. His hair was a sandy blond. He had it described to him as dirty blond before. He wore it longer, and parted down the middle. His jaw was squared, but did not impose or jut out and his full lips were framed by two dimples. He took his coffee and put it over his bottom full lip and sipped slowly, careful not to burn his mouth or tongue. He took his coffee black. Like many things in his life it was minimalistic. He didn’t see the need to add cream or sugar to something that...

MIKE HANSEN HUMOR

No Results Found

The page you requested could not be found. Try refining your search, or use the navigation above to locate the post.


MIKE HANSEN AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Sun-Shower

“Tears of joy are like the summer rain drops pierced by sunbeams.” – Hosea Ballou Sun-Shower The sun smiled softly as it hugged the trees, wishing them a good night. The clouds blushed as their warm friend went to rest, preparing for the next day. They gathered together and cried and cried and cried, washing away their blush – highlighting their dark shadow. The thirsty grains of dirt raised their blades to catch each precious droplet that fell over the lids of the clouds’ eyes. Not ready to sleep for the night, the sun stared at the clouds’ tears and threw its hands in all directions, trying to play in the summer rain, one last time. The bright sun-shower invited its gay friend to come and play before the sun went to bed for the night. The sun-shower’s gay friend wore a bow and a dress of many colors. The gay friend’s face brightened and he fell to the ground in delight. The sun’s heart was filled with glee as it smiled with a sigh and a yawn. The sun finally rested – just in time to see the twinkle in the moon’s...

The Revolution of Revolutions

“Revolutions go not backward.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson The Revolution of Revolutions The small, meandering mind dreams in revolutions. The big, brilliant brain fears revolutions. The sun guides us all deciding for us what has already been decided. As it rises and falls we rise and we fall. A pattern that has been written by all revolutions, year after year, generation after generation. As we fly by the sun we fly through history. Each revolution faster than the last. History available at our fingertips is forgotten before it is remembered. A pattern that has been written by all revolutions, year after year, generation after generation. Our hope is that the small, meandering minds keep dreaming about revolutions while our fear of revolutions subsides and we rewrite the pattern – A pattern that has been written by all revolutions, year after year, generation after...

The Ocean

“Never underestimate the power of the ocean.” – Heidi Klum The Ocean Your salty, sweet lips kissed my neck – sending peaks and valleys down the center of my skin. And then you fade away leaving me standing rooted one with each grain of sand. But wait – you come back you run up to me and fall at my feet, kissing each toe before you rise up and kiss my hand with your sweet, salty lips. And then you fade away leaving me wondering when you will come back. And then with languid loyalty you do come back and seduce me with your warmth and allow me to enter you inch by inch until your wetness envelopes me. Once inside of you you kiss me again first on my neck again and then on my face – leaving a moist impression on my...

The Mountain

“It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves.” – Edmund Hillary The Mountain The mountain softly sobs into the mouth of the liquid mirror, foaming ever so gently distorting the reflection of the trees. The aphoristic air whispers through your hair, making it stand on end as it brings you down to your knees. Adding these images to your personal picture show is something that you could not imagine in your dreams. The mountain’s head is topped with white wisps of wisdom, adding to its majestic stance among fields and streams. In its shadows you feel small. On its summit you feel tall. You softly sob into the mouth of the liquid mirror, smiling ever so gently – distorting your reflection of the...