Liam Perrin

The tour bus was cramped, the rockstar was peevish, and the guitarist was having trouble with his boots.

“‘Literally.’ I loathe that word,” the rockstar said. “Remove it from any sentence with no loss of meaning.”

“Care to wager?” said the guitarist. “And would you help me with these boots?”

Literally leveraging against a stove, the rockstar committed.

The guitarist said, “You’re literally pulling my leg.” He snickered. “Your pants are literally on fire.”

Now things literally got heated.

Panicking, the rockstar literally fanned the flames while the guitarist tried to literally smother his opponent.

Stomping mad, the rockstar entangled himself literally hook, line and sinker, and literally slammed the door on the discussion.

Eventually they literally calmed the flames, but the guitarist literally wouldn’t let the rockstar off the hook.

Long story short: The bus got a new stove, and everyone admits the guitarist is literally cooking with gas.

Epilogue

For some time after, the guitarist kept a list of idioms to help him argue his proof. But arguments often get literally out of hand on the tour bus, and he has decided to leave the proof where it now lies, literally in the pudding.

It was career day at the oceanarium. Everyone was trying to find their porpoise.

As the day wound down, an old sailor spotted a lone boy enfolded in a hoodie sitting on a bench.

“Everyone has one,” said the old sailor. “Some of us, she swims right up, bangs her nose on the glass, and smiles. The rest of us,” he shrugged. “If I’ve learned one thing about the ocean. She’s big. If yer porpoise isn’t here…” He nodded toward the bay, “maybe she’s out there.”

He winked. His good eye twinkled.

The boy took out his ear buds, glanced at the sailor, and raced off to join his friends.

The old sailor sighed and sank deeper into the bench.

“Maybe she’s out there,” he said.

Deep in the ocean, the porpoises swam, looking for their people, wondering where they’d gone.