OP suggested I post the story that I sent him, so here it be:
Once upon a time, there were two brothers from Boston who moved to NYC. Things were going well, until a lot of terribly shitty things happened. However, before I get into the plethora of terrible things that befell our heroes, let me describe the type of men we will be dealing with.
First, Isaiah. The type of guy you see on the subway and assume he works in government or goes door to door preaching the gospel of the Jehovah’s Witnesses. Or perhaps the type of guy who has a secret lab down in the bowels of the subway system itself, doing unethical experiments on himself with radiation and uranium, with a slicked back combover and cheery ragtime music playing in the background. One of those types-the guy who perpetually looks like a Nazi era comic book villain.
And then you have Josiah-the antithesis of anything remotely resembling order or greasy hair products. Josiah was the type of guy who you would see on the subway and think, yikes, he’s going to be late for that peace rally at Whole Foods! Josiah was the type of guy who could make you feel bad about yourself, while he regaled you with tales of losing his virginity in a leaf hammock, or dancing along to the Guagihaha tribe during their annual anti hemorrhoid ceremony. But then, you would get a boost of self confidence when you realized he spent most of his days making his own nut milks and auditioning for Survivor.
Anyway, enough descriptions. Let me tell you the story of “NYC”, or as Josiah likes to call it “the least mellow day ever, brah!”
Isaiah and Josiah decided one afternoon, that they wanted to visit the bodega down the street. “Josiah, my dear boy, let us peruse the grocer down the street for our dinner, we might find something edible.” “Heh, alright dude” replied Josiah
The two brothers set out on their journey, Isaiah desperately avoiding the mysterious oils on the street, lest they muck up his expensive new shoes. Josiah had done similar, giving his hemp sandals to a homeless man, in exchange for a humourous story from the man’s youth.
When they finally reached the bodega, Isaiah found himself in a panic. They had no citric acid, no bourbon, not even baking soda! What kind of subpar grocery was this?! Josiah had similar panic- none of the eggs were pastured! All of the sandals were plastic! The grocer spoke not an exotic foreign language, but English!
Distraught, the two brothers reached for one another, desperate for emotional comfort during this trying time. Josiah sobbed into his brother’s shoulder, recalling his donated sandals with deep regret in his heart. Isaiah held back his tears, distraught at the possibility that the toxic concoction he had ingested for breakfast would take effect too soon, filling him with rage and causing him to crush his sweet, simple brother.
After several minutes, the brothers composed themselves and exited the shop, feeling lighter and determined to find a nice, quiet dinner nearby. Unfortunately for them, they were both hit by a slow moving bus, and killed instantly.
Some say that on clear, calm nights-you can sense their presence. If you are lucky, you may even hear them- the soft bubbling of Josiah’s bong, or the deep, phlegmy sniffle of Isaiah’s allergy prone sinuses. If you do, take heed-it may very well change you.
THE END