If there's one thing that Marie Antoinette had wished for, it would be that man never discover the sciences involving time travel. Her court was over-populated by not only all of the great people of the twenty-fifth century, but they had filled their quotas by stealing the best minds throughout the previous centuries. The time travel business seemed to be booming, but in its wake came a lot of discord. The leader of this ragtag rebellious group who sought nothing but to make a mockery of her policies was none other than - Katie Fucking Couric. "I'd like to shove...
In hindsight, the solution was obvious.
How could he have missed it, standing up between slats on the bench?
Well, actually, that was understandable. The vial was brown-ish, the solution was brown, the bench was brown.
But why was it brown? It should be clear. Or maybe a milky-white. And why was it precipitating? C'mon, everything dissolves in a nitrate solution!
He must have disturbed the solution somewhat when he dropped it an hour ago.
He picked up the vial, and poured it in the vial he had waiting on the countertop.
In hindsight, if he still had sight, it...
They were listening. Ears pressed against the glass, as if it were opaque, like the doors they used to listen through when Kat and Patrick used to fight.
There was nobody in the room behind the window, just the green house and the plants which grew too slowly to notice, but somehow enough to garner praise once they had become large and showy. Lillian seemed to be listening with concentration and Indy, he couldn't help but feel like he had missed the point.
"What is it we're listening for, again?"
"Shh."
"But I'm-"
"Shh. I said shh. You're listening them...
The wise woman quietly opened the door, like a portal to the Other World, where a young woman's fist was held up as if to knock. Whether it was caught by her speed or its own hesitation, Meg wasn't sure.
"Expected was I?" a sweet voice entered the room.
The crone shrugged. "Bess is it?" At least it was mortal kin.
"We both know you would be here one way or another. One day or another."
"Do I have thy leave to enter, Elder One?" the spoken song continued. Sweet insolence lost on the witnesses.
"Do YOU not THOU me!"...
The year was 1986, when Madonna was telling her father not to tell her what to do, and life changed beyond my own imagination. The holiday had been planned for ages, but I had no desire to spend two terminally tedious weeks camping with my younger sisters. I had Mark, with his dark hair and warm lips, and I couldn't bear to leave him for a fortnight. He might fall under a bus, or worse, fall for Jayne Marsden and he stilletto heels.
The running wasn't the best part - but it was the part he did best. With pumping arms and striding legs, he moved gracefully around the track, passing others without a second thought or glance, as though there were mere statues standing still and in his way.
The best part was the winning. But he wasn't a very good winner. Oh, he smiled and shook hands and took his trophy or medal and posed for photos, but he was already thinking about the next race. And when fellow runners came to congratulate him, he didn't care. He was, if such...
The Wallaby jumped over the fossilized tyrannosaurus rex exhibit of the Natural History Museum and landed in a dramatic three-point stance in front of his arch-nemesis, Baron Mind. It was time to end this heist.
Baron Mind stood tall, clutching the fabled Carter Diamond in his purple-gloved hand and cackled furiously at the hero before him. It was hard not to laugh at a grown man wearing a kangaroo costume.
"Baron Mind," The Wallaby said in his thick, electronically enhanced Australian accent.
"Bear what in mind?" Baron Mind replied, and broke out into another hysterical laugh.
"Very funny, Baron," the...
She opened the fridge and took out a jar of pickles. Rubbing the condensation off her fingers onto her jeans, she prized the lid off and pulled out a spear.
Crunching away, she rifled through the crisper drawer, but didn't find anything appealing. She noticed there was still paint on the back of her hand, but she was too tired to rub it away.
The house was quiet, except for the snoring of her husband, which carried through the house. She was beginning to feel like she heard more from him when he was asleep then when he was awake....
The lone zombie shambled toward the clubhouse, where we watched, armed with nine irons and pitching wedges. I turned to Adam and said, "Par three, buddy."
"You're on, Sev," Adam replied, and grabbed a bucket of balls, ran out to the porch, and teed up.
His swing was a bit off, and he hooked it, but the ball stayed on the fairway. Not bad, considering the threat of gruesome zombie death that potentially loomed.
"Okay, this time I got him!" Adam shouted, and teed up another ball.
This time, his shot was picture-perfect, and the ball whizzed through the air,...
It was a simple case of mistaken identity. That and trusting the good uniform while having no trust at all in the bad. Both of them are dangerous. But for Paul on this cloudy spring day it was a life changer.
"All I did was pick up an orange. What's wrong about that?" Paul asked the officer.
"Normally nothing. But this man here says he's seen you stealing fruit every day this week."
"That's crazy! I'm on work detail! Do you know how hard I had to work just to get this small amount of freedom? And now I'm getting...