The wizened beast crawled across the savannah, dragging the old cart with dilapidated wheels. The grassland swayed, tickling his nostrils. He made his way to the coffee table after pulling his head out of the carpet.
"Daddy, you can't stand yet! You are supposed to be pulling my wagon!"

"Daddy needs his coffee, son." The man scratched his stubble and his backside, retaining the mannerisms of his cattle form. The child scampered around the couch, catching the beast at its watering hole.

"Alright, back on the trail. Where was I heading?"

"Oregon trail. You have dysentery."

"So to the toilet then?"


The man returned to all fours, ignoring the wagon of desperate patrons. He thought of the irony: just a week ago, he was at work in a similar position, pulling the cords out of the power strip under his desk, packing the last of his electronics. It was dreadful and disheartening, but after cro


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jadetine (joined over 11 years ago)
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Karen is an avid foodie/gamer/SFF reader who, despite existing for several years, has still not decided what she wants to be when she grows up.

Actually, Karen is an aspiring writer with a mysteriously irrelevant past. She spends her days laughing at the people still stuck in law school, ruminating over her engineering degree and coughing at the dust covering her collection of art supplies and musical instruments.

A Jill of all trades, yet master of none. Except for perhaps procrastination and awkward humor.

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