Lorenzo hated the king. That's because the king liked donuts. All he did was eat donuts. Here is what the king said every morning when he woke up: "DONUTS! BRING ME DONUTS!" If you ate a donut, the king would kill you. All donuts were to be consumed only by him.

Because he ate nothing but donuts, he was very fat. He weighed 1600 pounds. He was heavier than the thrown he sat on, which was made of solid gold. He could not get up so the engineers turned his thrown into a makeshift toilet. That way he could consume...

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He laid back, eyes closed, a smile stretched across his face. Summer never felt so good; the sun beating down made him relaxed, and he felt like he could sprawl out on the grass all day long.

With eyes closed, his mind drifted to summers past, lying on the grass with his dog Buddy after catching a frisbee back and forth. His mind was in another place, somewhere peaceful, simple, romantic even.

A place where the sun rises and sets with beautiful colors, where the grass is plush and Kelly Green. A place where the sailboats against the sunset have...

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I'm in the woods. I have no idea how I got here or where I am. I remember the number 4. What does that have to do with anything? Was I playing video games? I think I was in search of finding the answer to my question. Or was I trying to find the question? The answer was change. Yes, that was it. I had about 10 quarters and I did something with them because I do not have them anymore. mmhmm Why is that doll staring at me? Isn't that my girlfriends? Didn't she make that in image of...

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I shot my butler. I didn't mean to, i swear. It was an out of body experience. i didn't know what i was doing until i had pulled the trigger. i mean, Jeeves had been awesome. Why on Earth had i shot my butler?? and, more importantly, how in the world had i shot my butler? I didn't even own a gun, for heavens sake! Maybe i was hallucinating. But how does that make any sense? if I hadn't shot my butler, who had?It was the only solution that made any sense. I had shot my butler. Oh my gosh,...

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When I was twelve I went to sea, aboard a small ship. They hired me to clean and sweep and feed the men, in exchange they said they would take me across the ocean to the new world.
A week or two after shipping out, a storm rose on the horizon. The wind she blew and rain she fell and waves crashed into the sides.
The captain went first, and then his crew, leaving just me and another, a drunk.
The sails were torn, and the bow was pierced, the hull became full of water. Neither of us knew how...

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The waitress came up and said "Hey, want corn flakes?"

"No," says I. I am busy reading my book, which is about masking tape.

But the waitress is having none of it. "I made these corn flakes myself," she says.

"Okay," says I. "Give me some corn flakes."

She gives them to me. They are red, not orange, but I eat 'em anyway. "Yuck," says I. "These don't taste like corn flakes at all."

"They're not," she says. "They're scabs I picked off my elbow."

She shows me her elbow, which is bleeding lots. All kinds of blood is pouring...

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He ducks out of my way and a flash of white pain shoots up my arm. I look up and see the cracks in the wall left from the impact of my fist. I ball and unball my fist a few times and try to push the pain out of my mind. A sharp cry comes from somewhere and I think it might be my own voice. I lift a hand to my head and my fingers come away bright red. When did I hit my head? I push myself up from the floor and try to ignore the black...

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Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. Like it had been ever since the Chinese industrial 'revolution', it was smoggy and grey. She stared off into the limited distance, trying to peer beyond all the smog.

"Where's mother?" A voice came from behind her.

"Oh, you know the answer to that, Chang'e," she replied. "Go ask dad. I'm sure that he'll say what he's always said."

"What's that?" she asked.

"You're so forgetful..." the girl mumbled.

"But you are too!" said Chang'e. "I bet you don't even remember what father said to you...

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The detective sighed and adjusted the Stetson balanced on his head, fingers rubbing the brim lightly. "Where're the survivors?" he asked, looking over to his deputy. "They're over that way. Shaken up, but there were more survivors than deaths." he replied, gesturing down the tracks to a small mob of people milling alongside the derailed train. The detective nodded. The crash was most likely an accident, but the police had to investigate anyway.

He staggered down the embankment dotted with scraggly sage to the wreck. The red dust of the desert clay had been kicked up in the skidding crash,...

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It was so stupid. Andrea had only been adopted 48 hours ago, and her new `dad` had already hit her. Her `siblings` got the same, as did her `mom`. One day, he got so amazingly angry that he pulled a 45. caliber on their mum. They barricaded themselves in their room. `What are we going to do. Mama`s dead, and dada says DEDAH! whenever we get near a phone. WE WANT OUT!` they whimpered. So they threw sheets out the window

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