When Aerosmith and Run DMC decide to co-parent, by Melissa Llanes Brownlee
it doesn’t go well, and their offspring, an angry nest of centipedes that prefers living in dreadlocks, warm and cozy, rebels against screams of walk this way, talk this way—
and it does go well, but their offspring, a box of Addidas, shiny white, never wants to leave the house, never wants to dip a toe into the school, or the gym, or the locker—
and the world splits in two, doesn’t know what genre it wants to be, but its offspring, a billowy scarf tied to a slender mic stand and a turntable sans record, work together to meld the crack in the earth’s mantle with the combination of their sonic powers, and their parent is so proud, holding a concert in their honor, live from the top of Stonehenge, which brings about the new Age of Aquarius—
and the world’s politicians decide they’re tired of all of these rock stars and rap stars having children and ban all future collaboration, and the children rise up, protesting—
just give me a kiss.
Melissa Llanes Brownlee (she/her), a native Hawaiian writer living in Japan, has work published and forthcoming in Quarterly West, Wigleaf, The Threepenny Review, Matchbook, Bluestem, Sunlight Press and Cutleaf Journal, and honored in Best Small Fictions, Best Microfiction, and Wigleaf Top 50. Read Hard Skin (2022) and Kahi and Lua (2022) and look out for Bitter over Sweet (2025) from Santa Fe Writers Project. She tweets @lumchanmfa and talks story at melissallanesbrownlee.com.