My Cardboard Balcony

Sponge by Belinda Roddie It's a kind of shame you can't sponge off, the suds collecting until the foam solidifies and turns to scabs on your raw thighs, chafing together as you try to run, but the running exhausts you after a while and you have to face the reality that if you aren't ashamed, you won't survive.

"That's your new car?" cried Charlene. "It looks like a tank!" "No, see, that would be awesome," Lindsay smirked as she hopped out of the driver's seat. "I mean, I could dominate everyone with a tank. But this is a jeep." "Jeep. Tank. Whatever. It's a flipping war vehicle!" "That's 'cause I'm a soldier, Char," replied her sister as she tipped the brim of her cap toward her left eye. "And I gotta drive like one, too."