Satire
Follow the lives of three women as they rebel against cultural traditions they consider oppressive
I am different. I always was. To my mother, I seemed like an alien. While my sisters swooned over colorful pages that our father’s employee brought each year for the celebration at the end of Ramadan, fighting to claim the color that best suited them, I would arrive well behind everyone else, take the page that no one else wanted, and leave, bored, to plunge back into my books. While my sisters discontinued their studies as early as possible, not wanting to disobey my father, and agreed to marry the men that he or one of my uncles chose for them (they were more interested in the material aspects of marriage, the gifts or the interior design of their future home), I stubbornly persisted in going to high school. I explained to the women of the family my ambition to become a pharmacist, which made them burst into laughter. They called me crazy and bragged about the virtues of marriage and the life of a homemaker.
By Cindy Dory3 years ago in Fiction
The Kurulas
I've always been blessed to have good neighbors. All the horror stories I've read online about yelling Karen's and creepy Carl's were never true for me. The Mendoza's right next door always shared their cooking, and with my nonexistent self control, I never said no to the huge carbs in their neighborhood famous enchiladas de pollo. The Hoang's the next street over on Elman's didn't mind everyone mispronouncing their last name. Every time I messed up, Miss Lorena Hoang would just say, "You're at least trying". But if you forced me to say, I would say that the only neighbors I didn't think fondly of was the Kurula's that lived in the mansion in the woods. Adam and Priya Kurula were social only when needed, it felt like. Which is fine, I should say, not everyone needs to be at the door ready to socialize twenty four hours a day.
By Jacob Harold3 years ago in Fiction
Monetary Tips for the Immoral and Unscrupulous
Before we start, like most people giving out financial advice online, I must specify that this is not financial advice. That out of the way, let's talk about the green, the cheese, the cheddar, the wonga, the dosh, the payola, the CREAM, the dream, the dolla, the bills, the skrills, the cash, the scratch, the dividends, the root of all evil, the fruit of the money tree. You may have noticed, there's a lot less of it swashing around the place these days. Well, don't you worry yourself, my friend. They don't call me the Boy Who Cried Wolf of Wall Street for nothing. Usually, I'd go the old school route, and sell my lifetimes' worth of money-making knowledge in a self-help book with a cover that'd make you scared to be seen reading it in public. But, given the state of the state, let me state my statements.
By Charlie C. 3 years ago in Fiction
