Author: Jill

I told myself that I needed to calm down before I started writing about racial injustice in America.

But to me, more than anything, Tricia was cool. And I wanted to be cool too.

Have you ever thought about what your handwriting says about you and the secrets you might be hiding?

Without a doubt, it’s the sound of a dead body falling to the floor in the apartment above us.

Poor Chris is likely to have some emotional scars from having seen a red, white and blue penis.

Chris and I would like to sit and watch the crazies that surround us but because the bar doesn’t have any proper seating, that’s out.

My mom was not above defending the honor of her children even if her children were a bunch of bad actors who lied about their misdeeds.

Ever since the Arse family moved in, they’ve proven themselves to be loud-mouthed bullies. They’re mean to their pets and the boys are often screaming profanities that the whole neighborhood can hear. My siblings and I try to steer clear of them.

“I aren’t going to die, am I?”

I’ve known since I was a wee one – because others have told me – that I cannot sing.