Farewell, sinking ship.

We were riding on the waves

And I thought you my other half.

As you say, “no,

That wasn’t an epic bond,

You had me in tears

Seeing was facing my fears

So how could you?

How could you?”

I put my head in the water,

A…

--

--

Chase might have been the “otters love water” kind of guy, but Carl also connected the dots of sadness to the ever-giving liquid.

He thought of clouds, of azure depths, even though both things were rare in the desert. Lake Emma could be the reason, given how much misery it had given him and his friends.

He cried to himself, every once when he found himself short on weed.

He cried to himself, seeing everyone go for better pastures elsewhere.

He cried to himself, as even after getting over his imposter syndrome and becoming and artist depression had a way of brings evil old thoughts back.

But when Flynn was with him, the waters drenched. Like a dragon or a setting sun, the Gila’s fire purged away the noxious waters.

And then Carl cried, in joy and love.

“Queer” Flynn said.

--

--

Carl woke up first.

Jeremy’s musk welcomed his nostrils. It started off arousing him at first, but it now was a symbol of comfort. Guess now he new how all his friends dating otters felt like.

How did it come to this? How did a bully, turned drug-dealer, became the best thing in his life?

The journey was like his brain trying to wake up: a slow series of steps, from a shared joint, to shared problems, to saving each other during a hysteria, to beating the crap out of Brian.

Pissing off Jenna certainly helped. All the little things they had in common

“You ‘wake, babe?” Jeremy yawned.

“No, go back to sleep” Carl whined, “You’re cute.”

“Nah.”

He rolled his lover, Carl atop him.

“You are.”

--

--

Flynn sighed.

“What the hell is going on now?” he said, tired mroe than anything.

Carl was like Hela from Norse mythology, except on one side he was a skeleton with a blue eye and hoodie and on the other a wolf in a superhero costume.

“Isn’t it cool?” Carl…

--

--