The Fourth Son

“I was going to Arizona State when my dad passed away.  I didn’t handle it well.  Sort of fell apart.  I had just paid $9,000 for the fucking semester.  I opened my laptop, dropped the semester, opened up a new tab, bought a one-way ticket to New York, and threw myself a going-away party.  Once I got here, I started working in retail.  But on the side I was writing about Fashion Week for a blog called Style Cartel, shout out to Charlotte, Muslim like me.  And every time I went to these events, I’d introduce myself as a stylist.  I kept saying: ‘I style athletes and celebrities.’  I didn’t give a fuck.  Then suddenly I started getting clients for real: actors, NFL players, you name it.  Now I’m up to 42 clients.  Down to two days a week in retail.  Pure hustle.  No Miami mommy money.  Well I’m not going to lie.  I did have a sugar daddy first year,  billionaire, you’ve heard of him.  But never fucked him.  Anyway, the one thing I’ve always wanted to do is go back to school.  Cause I promised my dad.  Then one night I was watching Billions and there’s this psychologist who always keeps the men in check.  So I peeped the psychology degree at Hunter College, walked into the admissions office, and told the lady: ‘My transcripts are trash.  My dad died of cancer.  But I’m intelligent.  I need a second chance.’  The deadline had already passed, but she ended up doing me a solid.  She performed some sort of alchemy on my transcripts and came out with a 2.6 GPA.  That was enough to get me in the door.  I just finished up my second semester.  Now I’ve got a 3.5 GPA.  Plus the teachers love me cause I’m entertaining in class.”

CAW CAW

And then waiting until you sleep to stick my knife between your ribs, killing you instantly, before surgically removing your delicate porcelain skin, so I can sleep with you for ever and ever.

We’ll find you Amanda.

- Cookie

The verification process took three days.  So, I think if anybody is unconvinced at this point, it’s just because they don’t really want to know the truth.  I’m sorry if I’ve ruined it for those people, but in writing about my childhood, there was no way I couldn’t write about My Immortal.  My Immortal shaped so much about who I am, whether I like it or not (more often than not, I don’t).  If it bothers anyone, that’s fine, they don’t have to read the book.  Anyone who wishes to has my blessing to go on pretending the fic wrote itself, and I promise I won’t bear you any ill will.

this is so wild, this guy thought his landlord was going into his house and leaving him post-it notes but he just had an extreme case of carbon monoxide poisoning 

This is honestly one of my favorite Reddit stories.