I actually wrote this one in my car in the Walgreens parking lot at 3 in the morning while waiting for my prescriptions to get filled. I wrote it via text to a friend a couple weeks ago but kept forgetting to go back in my text history and copy it down outside the phone so it wasn't erased forever. So here we are.

If you don't know what these are, they're little mini-stories I write frequently for friends whenever an idea strikes. More often than not I write them to cheer my friends up, but they can be entirely random and no matter when I write them, they're only written for the sole purpose of making someone smile. I don't usually focus on the quality of writing, just the idea and the imagery.

I've been doing this for years now and I'm glad they still come to me at odd moments.

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Once upon a time -- not too long ago, in fact -- there was a little boy and a little girl who lived together on the edge of town. They were sitting side by side on the ground in front of the little abandoned shed they called their home.

Finished drawing a few flowers in the dirt with a stick -- the flowers surrounded the dirt-traced unicorn she'd drawn, which had turned into a unicorn-on-fire-currently-stomping-ruthlessly-on-a-small-village, complete with dead sentries once the boy had added his touches, which she said made no difference, there still needed to be flowers, unicorns always come with flowers (at which point the boy had said it was only okay if the flowers were poisonous maneaters, and whined until she finally agreed) -- finished drawing the flowers, the little girl turned to the little boy and asked, "Is my chest getting too big?"

"And tell me the truth," she added.

The little boy, not having learned the ways of the world just yet, replied: "If they get any bigger'n that I'mma not be able t'see ya a'tall for all th'chest in th'way, and yer prolly just gonna tip right o'er facefirst on'na these days an' be so heavy I'll hafta pull ya 'roun' on a sled like on'a 'em people can't walk on they own." This was the honest answer.

This is why the little boy got the little girl's fist in his face and the little girl got up and stomped inside the house, leaving the little boy sprawled on his back in the dirt with a broken nose, blood dripping from underneath the two tiny hands he clutched his face with.

"Well if they're that big I guess there's not enough room for you to sleep in here tonight!" the little girl yelled, slamming the door shut behind her.

The moral of the story? If a woman says she wants you to "tell her the truth" she's lying and you should immediately do the exact opposite. And more importantly: lying hurts a lot, lot less. Like, a LOT less. Lie whenever you get the chance, especially if she's asking you something.