Through this Friday, all available back issues of Wholphin are half off—10 bucks apiece for countless warm evenings of rare films, featuring Miranda July, Paul Rudd, Donald Trump, and a monkey-faced eel. - - - - |
- - - - In this prom photograph I'm wearing a cherry rhinestone necklace, a cherry fur stole, and high heels made of cherries. My boyfriend (not in the picture) wore a cherry tie. This is a picture of my brother and me when we were younger, climbing a cherry tree. The clouds are threatening to rain. Here my best friend is eating some cherry ice cream on the boardwalk. There are cherries bobbing on the water. I took this photo of my friend when he was passed out. He threw up cherries that night. We hiked up this mountain in New Hampshire last fall and stopped to take a rest here. The view was amazing, and I had to take a picture. There were no cherries. I don't know how this one got in here. My ex- took this photo of me naked on a bed of cherries. He didn't allow me to take any of him. Here I am playing the part of a cherry in my third-grade play. Afterwards my parents gave me a bouquet of beautiful red roses. My mother serving us all cherry casserole. My friends' apartment. They've done some wonderful things with the place — they decided on a cherry theme for the kitchen, living room, bathroom, and bedrooms. We all had a bonfire in the woods. We burned cherries for fuel. I'm smoking a cherry cigarette. One of my friends wandered off into the woods, drunk on cherry wine, but she left a trail of cherry pits behind her, and we found her and brought her back. Later, somebody passed around a bowl of cherries. Trying on some cherry lipstick when I was fourteen. My friend and I had a cherry fight in her back yard. The red stuff is cherry juice. This is my brother and I and all our cousins at Easter a long time ago, hunting for cherries. Me, at the store where I used to work. We sold a lot of cherries. I got a discount. I always had to tell people, "No returns." Just a bunch of kids standing around downtown in the summer, kicking cherries back and forth, really bored. We went to Cherry Rock some afternoon that summer and jumped into the river — skinnydipping — except for this girl here, she was modest, and she wore underwear and a bra with little cherries all over. All these cherries had washed ashore at the beach. There was a curling red ribbon traveling all the way down the shoreline as far as I could see. Here I am really little, and ready for bed, in my cherry pajamas. This is my mom and dad at some kind of rally. My mother has cherries in her hair and strings of cherry beads around her neck. My father has cherries embroidered on the collar of his shirt. I don't know what they're protesting. My great-great-grandmother when she was, oh, our age, I guess. They look so grim and severe in these old photographs. She planted that old cherry tree in our yard. No, lightning took it down a couple years ago. It was a shame.
OTHER McSWEENEY'S STORIES:
The Revolution, Circa Whenever By Jimmy Chen Trampoline Hall Tour Diary, Day Four By Sheila Heti Sometree/Anytree? By Ben Greenman A Fulfilling Afternoon By Sara Grady & Dehlia McCobb Arthur Blessit, Notable Walker By Samantha Hunt |
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