The Desire Clamp is the simplest solution to date in the battle against anxiety, depression, fatigue, low self-esteem, feelings of worthlessness, hopelessness, shame, insomnia, upset stomach, and that nagging inner voice.
Take one easy-to-swallow capsule with 8oz. of tap and the Desire Clamp does the rest. With patented self-guiding technology, the capsule finds and “clamps” itself permanently to the hypothalamus. Now in place, the “want” centers of the brain are in unlimited hibernation, thus, letting you forget your worries, get down to business, and get back to your busy day. Sign up is free.*
*Via 24 deductions from net pay.
I have a bag of eyes. I use them to see different things in different ways. The ones for work are to see close up. They were my first pair. I have another set for when I’m out, so I can see far in the distance. I use a third set when I want to see from someone else’s point of view. I didn’t use to use them but find I wear them the most now. I feel bad for people that only use their first set of eyes, walking around with a migraine all day because they can’t see.
It was a treacherous night of knocking on doors and dodging monsters, all to get my fill of Halloween candy. Monsters had been dodged, and my bucket was heavy. My parents inspected the winnings. After that, the booty was mine. I was polite. I was patient.
“You can have one,” they said. That’s when the horror began.
When I reached inside, I felt dried apricots, apple slices, cinnamon sticks and sunflower seeds, packets of apple cider dust, raisin balls, and an orange.
The switch witch must’ve gotten to it,” they supposed.
The switch witch. The most horrible monster of all.
There’s a room at the top of a narrow staircase, and in that room is an armoire. It has large, thick doors that don’t exactly close right. The armoire is supposed to house the ghost of a girl who was locked inside and forgotten long ago. It’s the highlight of the tour. When visitors arrive at the top of the stairs they shriek with fright, or delight, I can’t tell which. I’ve pushed my way through them to see for myself but I’ve never seen a thing, not once, not ever. Not in the hundreds of times I’ve been there.
Never saw my dog jump as high as the first time we walked by that storm drain. I saw those hollow green eyes dart to me from down there, and well it creeped me out too. Just a cat though, one of those, think it’s called a tabby. Except the stripes were different.
Anyway, I crouched to make sure she could get out and she just purred, loud and echoey. “Guess you’re fine,” I said. The hollow eyes just receded and stared up from the dark.
Imagine my surprise when the tabby nudged my side, purring, as the eyes watched.
It was gossip that defined them.
If it weren’t for gossip, about celebrities, and politics, and family and friends, they wouldn’t have a thing to say or a thought in their heads. Gossip wasn’t confined to whispers in the back row of church anymore. Gossip was loud so that others might hear. They relished in the shockwave. They posted and traded it online and delighted in the hordes who ate it up. Real life was stupid. Boring. But everyone loved gossip. They shouted it at each other. Louder, and gaudier, one over the other. A never-ending rookery of sea lions.
When she walked into a room, the small talk began.
She was a sweet, old woman but everything that came out for her mouth was a cliché. And she wasn’t alone. There was a trail of small-talkers she checked in with, from the beginning of her morning walk to the children playing in the courtyard at the end of the night. Her tone would rise as the day grew on so by dark, it sounded like child’s play. Inane small talk. Pointless chitter-chatter. The day would end at a pitch so high that only her loving pets could hear it.