Her Biggest Regret

She had an ex-boyfriend named Carl. She regretted him more than those leather pants or that weekend trip to Trenton. He was her worst mistake in a lifetime of blunders.

Carl still stalked her intermittently. She always knew when he was nearby because of the hamburger wrappers in her stairwell. These occasions should probably have frightened her more than they did, but she knew Carl was essentially harmless. He had a hard time with letting go.

Years later she realized that she had never actually broken up with Carl. He wasn't stalking her. He simply thought they were still dating.

Hopity Hop Carl

Hop. Hop. Hop. He was always hopping. Carl’s favorite thing to do was Hop. Sometimes he liked to swim. Or get food. But he was tired of living his life without meaning. He wanted to get a job.

Carl wrote up his resume, thinking of things that would get him employed. He wrote about how he was good at hopping.

The bosses of The Jump Company read his resume and decided he would be a good fit for their job opening. So they called him in for an interview for Monday.

Little did they know, Carl was really a frog.

Guest Contributor Zoey Zozo

Manufactured

The murder scene was wiped clean long before the police arrived to trample it in their carelessness. It didn't matter. Their best evidence was always manufactured.

Carl would maintain his innocence until the day he was executed. Most non-biased observers believed him. He was a convenient fall guy to take the blame for a crime that couldn't be solved. Yet no one dared leap to his defense. If the court system officially concluded Carl had murdered a family of seven while at the same time driving his taxi on the other side of the city, who was anyone to argue.

Carl

The windows to Carl's apartment were always closed. Summer heat and cancer-causing insulation made the one-bedroom flat in the still unseemly section of Brooklyn stink of rot and turpentine.

Carl sometimes paced about with a listless gait. He was married to the apartment, having been outside it only once or twice in his entire memory. There was nothing worth exploring that hadn't been explored years before. The bulk of his time was spent gazing out the window.

But as far as New York City house cats went, Carl had it better than most thanks to the corpse in the bedroom.