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I don’t know whats the meaning of fry, but remember
By Thamiris on 07.29.2016
all i wanted was a fry. just one fucking fry. you didn’t have to smack me so damn hard fucking bitch. that’s why i took all your frys and lock you out the house. bitch.
By varah URL on 07.29.2016
“How do you want me to cook the potatoes?” Lottie asked as she hunched herself over the stove. She had to use a stepping stool to make herself the right height, her long, scraggly gray hair pulled out of her face by a neon green scrunchie.
Donovan shrugged from behind his newspaper, his face blending in with the black text. “However you want.”
“C’mon, Donny, help me out. Should I boil ’em? Mash ’em? Scallop ’em? Fry ’em?”
By Belinda Roddie URL on 07.29.2016
oil…dark hot boiling oil
small fry…nickname for a little friend
fried chicken, watermelon, and a 40
fry me to the moon…moon fries
arteries hardening …but it taste so good.
By TC on 07.29.2016
you were sitting across from me in the red diner booth. you are the thing that’s simple about my life, you are easy, you are good. you are not enough. you smiled with your small teeth as you plucked the fry from the white basket with two manicured fingers. I know you can’t live up to her, and it’s not fair to ask you to.
By ella on 07.29.2016
Whoever came up with the idea to fry foods was a genius. They probably didn’t live to be terribly old, what with clogged arteries and the potential for a heart attack looming around every corner, as I imagine when they discovered the wonders of fried foods, they never looked back. Just imagine someone coming up with this wonderful way of cooking foods, and over the years becoming more flabby and grotesque, saturated fats practically dripping from their pores.
By Lunatiq URL on 07.29.2016
I’d always walked over to the same old milkshake place, order some friend and a fudge milkshake. I knew all of the people there.
That place had great memories.
At least… When my mom was here.
I could still hear the oil sizzling as they made the french fries, hear the laughing growing louder than the jukebox in the corner.
I snapped back to reality as the waitress brought over my food.
By Blue URL on 07.29.2016
ive never watched futurama but all my friends do, and i feel like i owe them a little from the party back in ’88. ive seen this fry guy in a lot of internet memes, and i love him.
By sydney URL on 07.29.2016
Fry a fish, and it will become a delicacy for those who eat it. Fry a mouse? Now that’s just weird, but I guess if there are no fish around and you are starving, you have to face some challenges. Though…we could just make a sandwich or something. I don’t think a mouse would taste very good.
By Brianna on 07.29.2016
The potatoes fried and fried in the pan on the stove, burning away neglected by James, who was in his room dealing with a horrible breakup. They turned from white to brown to black, cooking until the pan was ruined and the kitchen started to fill with smoke, but James didn’t care, more important things were being ruined at that moment.
By timn on 07.29.2016
What if my fingers were replaced by fries? They would be useless in most things hands are for, like picking up objects or grasping anything. They would taste amazing but you can’t eat them because you need them. Also, that would hurt quite a bit. So fry fingers are definitely a bad idea, but I will still enjoy all the fries that are not attached to my hands.
By Brianna L URL on 07.29.2016
“Oh my God,” Takumi groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “My brain is fried.”
“Maybe if you didn’t stay up so late this wouldn’t be a problem,” Seth muttered.
“I have two tests today, Seth, I can’t deal with you right now.”
“Can you deal with breakfast at least?” Seth pushed a plate over and smiled when Takumi looked up. “Fried eggs, to go with your brain.”
“I hate you.”
By savvadrokki URL on 07.30.2016
I fried her with my eyes – fry fry fry I chanted at her wordlessly. I felt my lips move into ‘fry.’ She didn’t like that. Or she didn’t understand. I couldn’t explain myself further.
By Zoe URL on 07.30.2016
She glared at the boy in front of her, her arms crossed protectively in front of the plate to prevent him from taking it.
The boy laughed, “I have no intention of getting my hands cut off, so you may aswell stop covering it.”
By Nicole on 07.30.2016
By apa on 07.30.2016
I fried the bacon as he walked into the kitchen. He wore nothing but his boxers, unfortunately. Fortunately. I can’t really tell any more. All I knew is I wanted him in my life. and if this was the only way for it to be, then I will cook him bacon as his mistress every goddamn morning.
By Lindsey Bost on 07.30.2016
Don’t ever think that a person is just some small fry. In their own way, their fighting against a big unknown. You don’t know their struggles, internal and not. So don’t call anyone a small fry until you live their life.
By unconventional_lady URL on 07.30.2016
I am so fried. This is my first attempt here, hence I feel like this site is trying to fry my ass. Hopefully I’ll get better with time and write stuff less obscene. I can’t think any more
By Rini URL on 07.30.2016
I was frying a piece of bread this morning. Dropped it on the floor, and proved again the murphy’s law.
By Lkk on 07.30.2016
fry is oil. fry is sly inrhyme. fry for food
fry rhymes with cry
fry is bheja fry
fry is tasty
fry is french fries
i love to fry
By mamta on 07.30.2016
Shoulders exposed and long flamingo gowns twirling. The rococo amber light flooding the room and bathing the walls. Silken oysters offered on platters like little blue irises and delicate cones of chicken that fry and bubble and hiss and spit. The fire of the setting sun marking us out. Cognac, Gin, Whisky, Bourbon, the sharp delectable taste of rum. Twinkling piano music reminding us that someone will die before dawn.
This is our ritual. This is how it has to be.
By Wonderlion URL on 07.30.2016
I like fried food. I think everybody like fried food. That’s why chicken wings so popular as finger food.
By acla URL on 07.30.2016
over the grease
bubbling up – hot sticky wet
(this oil needs changed)
thinking of stepping right in
to meet the bubbling oil
with flesh of his own that will surely bubble just the same
maybe just a splash on the face
to wipe the trace of something i don’t believe in anyway
or a quick gulp
By kurisuto URL on 07.30.2016
“Fried potatoes are one of the tastiest things in this world, aren’t they?” I asked, while dipping my little yellow friend in the mayonnaise. Chuck just made this stupid face again and sipped on his coke. “If you say so.”, he muttered and turned to the window. “Hey, did you hear about the missing girl from the senior year?” I looked at his sharp profile and nodded.
By Caroline on 07.30.2016
My boss shouted over the din of tourists, bikers and young people looking for trouble or fun or both. It was bike week in Laconia, New Hampshire. A mass of people clamored for greasy food at our concession stand. One of many that sat, surrounded by this sea of humanities, like plywood buoys in the rough northern seas. I filled up the fryolators with some more fresh cut fries. I looked up while wiping sweat off my brow. I heard a laugh that pierced through the rest of the cacophony. I turned to the sound and I saw her. And my life changed.
By Eric Herlihy URL on 07.30.2016
I fried the rancid air with my dragon breathe
with little depth, I know where I inhale
gangling about fair fares
a surreptitious resource, food, water, laughs
are all that suffice life’s rice!
By Milad URL on 07.30.2016
She flipped the burger to the other side and pressed firmly with the spatula. “Look, I’m trying to concentrate.” He laughed and sipped his beer, squinting into the sunlight. “I have a distracting effect on women.”
God, he was dreamy.
By Bridget Grace URL on 07.30.2016
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.