Two tipsy women sneak into a graveyard to pee. One uses her panties to wipe with and throws them away, the other one uses a ribbon from a wreath.
The next day, one husband calls the other:
“My wife came home last night not wearing any panties!”
The other husband replies:
“That’s nothing! My wife had a card stuck between her butt cheeks that said, ‘From all of us at the fire station, we’ll never forget you!’”
The first whispers hit like a blow. A former president’s brutal accident left one nation reeling—then, almost before the shock could settle, word spread of something far…
He was never meant to be the loudest one in the room, but he was the one you felt safest with. His presence steadied the chaos, the…
The first year, I swallowed it. The second year, I blamed myself. By the fifth, the silence around his “family trip” felt louder than any argument we’d…
Finding that first wiry hair feels like a betrayal. It doesn’t ask permission, it just appears—coarse, dark, and impossible to ignore. You tell yourself it’s nothing, but…
You don’t belong here. The room knows it, but it forgives you anyway. It leans in close, breath warm with old stories, and offers you a past…
They thought they were untouchable. They thought age was a punchline, something to poke at with cheap questions and cheaper courage. The bar hummed with the smugness…