My name is Loads. To me, everything is a mystery.Check it out here.
I was working the night shift at the Atlantic blog division, typing up my final report on the Khalid Sheik Mohammed torture case (Mike Loads #11, "The Waterboarders"). That's when he walked in.
My eyes scanned the 5-foot-10 slab of man candy framed in my office doorway, the neon light from the venetian blinds slashing diagonally across that tailored acre of double-breasted charcoal. He took a step forward and removed his fedora, revealing a jet black pompadour glistening with high-dollar salon gel product. He was toting a shopping bag from the P-town Chocolate Shoppe.
Hilarious as usual.