A guy I grew up with recently died. I attended his funeral, but only because I thought there’d be free food afterwards. I brought to-go boxes with me. You know, to remember him for as long as I could.

“Where was I last night? I don’t remember myself. I mean I remember me—I didn’t …”

“There is until there isn’t. That’s just the way it is. Until it isn’t.”

“I just baked a cake in the shape of a door. Somebody’s knocking now, so let me …”

“I’m sexually attracted to statues made out of decomposing food. Is it normal to…”