Spencer Moseley

Do your homework, she told me. No, I said. And to be honest my production is negatively impacted by pressure. So I suggest you phrase your command in another way. My step-mom looked at me askance. Yes, that's the best word to describe her look. And she said, Well I'm just interested in results. Yeah, I said. But you won't get great RESULTS from me unless you start handling this differently. You see, I continued, humans are complex beings and aren't easily motivated by trite commands. Not even trying to get into college or get a job is enough to motivate me at the moment when I look at this x-y axis. I just don't give a fuck about any of it. Well that's not my problem, she said. Well, it kind of is if you want me to be a successful adult, I said. But the truth is, I expect too much of you. I need to realize that this is the best motivation you can offer. That triggered my step-mom and she went to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I saw her staring out the ...

I reminded Shelly that I was Scrooge and that she was Jacob Marley in the play we'd performed. Shelly was fucking drunk and teetering, able to stay standing by grabbing the light pole every few seconds or so. Her hair was greasy from the cigarette smoke (she smoked like a Frenchman) and she rambled a lot. But in her rambling I could still hear our performance from a couple nights before, still feel the effects of the crowd's applause. More of our troop were passed out drunk in the Jeep, still running in the cold weather. For whatever reason I still had a weird amount of energy. Suddenly Franco got out of the Jeep. I want to go home, he said. That was good news. This was his apartment complex that we were parked outside of. I told Shelly to get in the car, that I'd see her in a minute. She gave me her Jeep keys, I snagged Franco's apartment keys, I grabbed Franco's arm, and I led him to his apartment. Thank god it was on the first floor because he kept swaying and ...

In a horrified moment, I realized I'd accidentally knocked over this giant candle as the Pope was approaching the Church exit. Weren't these candles supposed to be practically bolted to the fucking floor? I picked it up, blushing (thankfully the carpet hadn't caught fire), and the Pope literally smiled at me and grabbed my arm and asked me to walk with him. He ignored the whole meet-and-greet-the-flock that deacons and priests and bishops and archbishops and monsignors and cardinals and popes typically do after mass. I'm Spencer, I said. And he said, I'm Pope Francis. I told him that it was nice to meet him and he told me to cut the shit. Was he some sort of Padre Pio? I'm not Catholic anymore. No shit, he said. That moment kind of opened me up and I explained my whole history and why I'd left. I felt a certain sting of a poor-me attitude. But Mr. Pope didn't judge me that way. I even told him that thought, blushing more than at the candle incident and ...

It wasn't just a deer. It was a snow white deer, with the most delicate antlers I had ever seen. Avor didn't have to hush me, and we were both frightened that we might make too much noise. I didn't realize how long I could hold my breath until now.  The snow fell gently around the deer whose eyes looked so old and lovely and fair. I looked at Avor and his eyes were shut and his lips moved in a prayer of some kind.  The deer ducked his head slightly and looked our way. He tilted his head as if curious, then skidded off.  "Ah, damn," I said. That woke Avor from his prayer and I could see his breath. He looked awestruck, and I'm sure I did too.  "We don't see many snowlords these days," he said.  "No," I agreed.  We both walked over to where the deer had stood and I saw a single sliver of silver hair in one of the deer tracks.  "Do you think I should?" I asked.  "Yes, yes, be careful, love." I slid it into my knapsack w...

Justin was disgustingly chewing gum. Barry leaned on a pillar-like thing holding up the gazebo and tried to focus on whatever some dude was talking about. Barry couldn't remember his name because his method of remembering names involved associating a name with some striking feature. And Mr. Nameless was the plainest looking white dude he'd ever seen: blonde hair cut at Great Clips, logo-less glasses, and a punchable frat boy face. Justin blew a bubble, and Barry wanted to scratch off the bit of gum struggling to hang onto his upper lip. Barry noticed Leila talking quickly to a group of girls in another corner. She smiled and looked as carefree as she always did. He was her plus one as of that morning. They'd had sex the night before. Or was that a one-night stand? Waking up to her "want to go to a wedding?" text was odd. She'd left her jacket in his apartment, but she hadn't said a word when he gave it to her on the car ride to the wedding. Their mutual fr...

"No, don't come down yet," said the mother. Jayden tapped his curly black hair, spun around and sat on the ground. He could already see the presents downstairs that his mother had carefully set up for his birthday. She sat by the hearth, sipping a coffee. It was cold in the house because Jayden had an inconvenient January birthday. Jayden's mother and father whispered a bit and his father said, "Come on down, Jayden!"  Jayden screeched with joy and ran down the stairs in his onesie. He snatched the first present, but his mother yelled, "Wait! We need to get some pictures first." Then she looked at her husband, "Can't you make him wait two minutes?" "Martha, it's fine," mumbled the father. The mother rolled her eyes, made a dramatic sigh, and held the camera while Jayden held his present; but he made the mistake of opening his present too quickly. "No no no!" shrieked the mother snatching Jayden's forearm an...

Dear Mr. Kringle, Please accept this application from a musician who wishes to apply to your open PR position. This job stuck out to me because it is so much in line with my past experience and future goals. I grew up receiving your gifts every Christmas. I would say they ranged from practical to desirable. Some years you really leaned into Fruit of the Loom products. I noticed those were the years where my behavior was, in hindsight, less than ideal. Other years I received products that were actually on my list. I still use that guitar you got me in 2008.  I would say that your public reputation is overwhelmingly positive, and I want to be a part of the amazing teams of elves and... okay I'm not really sure how many factions run your empire... I want to be a part of the team helping you spread your gifts around the world. But what if we upgraded your image? What if I could help you become a god? Before you throw my application in the trash, please hear me out. I know this sounds ...