Skip to the article , or search this site. This post is brought to you by A Man. My dad only gets me into the car by promising a trip to Barnes and Noble. I can sympathize. Despite the bribe, I refuse to talk to my dad. We buy hats. This is starting to feel more like fun and less like torture. In a room full of tourists, I am the biggest tourist of them all. Notably: the souvenir shop contains postcards depicting naked women.
MORE STORIES FROM AUTHOR Polonium Poisoning, Thamires Luppi
More From Medium
I cast a searching look over the frame of my glasses. I could never figure out how people in movies did this so cavalierly; it always hurt my eyes. Maybe if I wore my frames farther down my nose. I felt something important about to unfold before me. You can ask me anything. How often do you and mom have sex?
Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta. Looking for author contact information? If available, it will be featured at the conclusion of the story.