Dengue, or bonebreak fever, is carried by the insect
Behavioral scientists Robinson and Godbey once postulated that human activity is almost infinite in meaning and form. Except yours.
The spider you befriend while in prison will amaze you by spinning a web reading “SOME MURDERER” above your bunk before your parole hearing.
You will go bankrupt selling a set of enthusiastically narrated audio tapes designed to help you learn to relax while you sleep.
Your attempts to live a life of the mind will prove less successful than your attempts to live a life of the stomach.
You will continue to suspect that the honest, down-to-earth woman you love is faking her organic gardening.
No matter how often you administer the damn things, home pregnancy tests continue to remind you that you are male.
You will soon find yourself in such dire financial straits, you will not even be able to afford to pay attention.
You’re not the kind of person who has conversations with her dead grandmother all day, so it would be nice if she’d stop talking to you.
Your anxiety concerning your place in the universe is allayed when you remember that it’s a cute little house on Willard Street, just off the park.
You will receive a letter from ex-boxer Leon Spinks, who threatens to reveal himself as your long-lost son unless he receives $9 in unmarked bills.
Your week will be entirely uneventful after the thing with the church fire.
