Mahala 2

Glory Hole

Then he opened the door and cried, “you are under arrest!” My worst fear had come true. I got my dick back in my pants and he took me outside and called his partner.

It’s ugly and it hurts, but the girl and I don’t talk anymore, so this thing is the last thing of hers I have; and I know that soon, very soon, for the sake of being a sane functional person if no other, I’m going have to take that turd of a hurt and polish it into some kind of art that bears only a passing resemblance to the original, and put it out in the world so that it isn’t inside of me anymore.

It’s ugly and it hurts, but the girl and I don’t talk anymore, so this thing is the last thing of hers I have; and I know that soon, very soon, for the sake of being a sane functional person if no other, I’m going have to take that turd of a hurt and polish it into some kind of art that bears only a passing resemblance to the original, and put it out in the world so that it isn’t inside of me anymore.

Editorial illustration of a bagpiper

It’s about eight in the evening now, and this guy is standing in the middle of a parking lot, his convertible idling, playing the bagpipes in a wifebeater. And we don’t have anything to say to that…

Editorial ink illustration

So I’m waiting, watching the floor between my feet. I’m cold. My legs ache. I don’t want to be here. The office door opens and the nursing sister looks at me. “Be with you in a minute,” she says. I relax. I’ve been seen. I will be seen.

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Skills

Editorial Illustrations, Mahala

Client

Mahala, South Africa