Pretty magical fairies! This is me last night, hands clapped against my fat little cheeks, watching the fireflies dodge traffic. Fly to safety, precious little cuties! My rep as the neighborhood stud flying right out the window. Why did I even bother putting on my American flag bandanna and working my delts while fixing the transmission last weekend? Why do I go through all the trouble only to piss it all away right when it counts?

They didn’t have fireflies in California and in fact I was convinced that they didn’t really exist, or if they did it was in kind of a disappointing way, like they were freakishly scary with bonus legs and pincers or they had more of a vague glow than anything else, so you maybe had to catch them and get stung and cup your hands around their horrifying hindquarters and peer in real close to see any kind of light and then get dizzy and sort of stagger around and then collapse from the poison and wake up in some hospital in Mexico, years later, working as a candy striper, trying to make time with the nurse on the psych ward.