My Cardboard Balcony

Purple by Belinda Roddie Purple balloons for my birthday party; chocolate cake as well. My wishes never come true, no matter how many times I blow the candles out. But at least the company is good, and the bubbly's even better, and the purple balloons bob up and down and make me feel like royalty.

I knew who was standing outside before I even heard the door bell, and once he was standing in the doorway, I had my shotgun loaded and ready to fire. He was wearing a poorly fitted blue suit, the hems of the jacket going all the way down to his knees. He has holding, for some reason,  a box containing a half-eaten pizza. "Hey, man," he grumbled through a mouthful of pepperoni. "Can I finish this before you shoot my brains out?"