“Dad, you have to stop. Your jokes are terrible. They aren’t even funny!” “I know,” he said. “I don’t tell them because they’re funny. I tell them because it’s funny to watch you squirm.”
When I turned 34, I decided to write a series of short stories. The only catch? Each story had to be 34 words. 34 years, 34 words. No more, no less. These are the fruits.