Holographic women are all the rage. Easier than humans to be around. No talking back or gorging on chocolates to ruin their figures.
Only costs a thousand a minute, for a rich guy like me it's nothing. Won't be long before the price will be cheap so everyone will have them.
Dating agencies will be redundant as everyone will have their own virtual mate, eager to please. With the headgear it feels like you are with a real live woman.
Today I had a shock. Mirabelle somehow changed into a man, mistake in the software I guess, but until much...
He didn't think he was much of a cat person until he met Matilda. But DAMN could she cook. Now most people wouldn't eat a cat, but he was hungry. Starving actually. And he could eat about anything after hunting zombies. Cats couldn't turn into zombies for some weird biological reason. They were about all that were left. Them and rats, but who wants to eat a rat. Not Zeke the zombie killer.
Matilda was just happy to have some company. Company that wasn't trying to eat her.
They had stewwed kittens tonight. It was a special night. Zeke had...
There's somebody standing in the corner of my room. I can't see him, but I know he is there, and yes, it is a he. The collar of his shirt flaps soft with the night air, and the breadth of his hands dwarfs the whole space. I don't move, but it's not because I'm scared. I just don't want him to know that I know. That he's there. I don't want him to leave. His keeping watch while I sleep, a sort of volunteer sentryman, comforts me like my father's stroking my hair. Maybe it was my father who dispatched...
If I had a camera every time he did something like that, I'd be winning contests. Funniest Kids, Giggling with the Stars, stuff like that.
Henry bought me the camera when the baby was six days old. He was supposed to be picking up the Chinese take-out (I loved those pancakes back then), but he stopped by the camera store. Not Wal-Mart or some big box store. No, Henry spent the extra forty-seven minutes to go to some specialty place.
I was painfully post-partum, couldn't sit without that donut, and he was buying an SLR. Like I was going to...
She hadn't felt like this since she was six years old. Once, at a circus, she had begged her father for a balloon, swearing that she would take the best care of it . She realized now that his protests weren't cruel-hearted, but frugal. That he didn't have the money. That when he begrudgingly gave in, it meant that the family would have to go without that week, so that she could feel the joy of holding that light, floating orb above her head by a string, feeling the gentle tug upwards that whispered of something more magical, more ethereal...
Powerful legs, legs charged by the spirit of youth, the longing to break free and simply run full pelt meaninglessly. These legs, this energy took her gambolling madly down to the bottom of Grandpa's garden to the summerhouse. Back at the town house, up his room was death, despair, disease and unbearable suffocating sadness and stifling stillness. Here outside was green; fresh wet green, distant roaring traffic - movement, life energy, freedom. Her lungs were full of cleaner cooler air and her hair pulled straight out behind her. Fresh air hair. She reached the summerhouse door and ran in.
'He's...
There once was a man named Fernando
Who encountered a man named Orlando
They met at mid-morning
But then, without warning
They were killed by a robot commando
"Where am I?" asked Jolene, as she took some hesitant steps toward the elevator. "Am I on the moon?"
"You are not on the moon," was the response. The voice seemed to come from all around her. "You are on a spacecraft. The Earth as you know it is uninhabitable."
"What? Why? What happened?"
"You will find out later," it said. "Take the elevator to the highest floor."
Jolene entered the small enclosure and pressed the button marked '35'. There was no 36.
"God will ask you a series of questions," the voice continued. "If the answers are incorrect, he...
One of my co-workers told me that one time, when he was living in New York City, he was at lunch with his wife at a deli. They were sitting near a window. As they chatted and ate, they looked out the window, and across the street, they saw a homeless man pull out a pizza box and take a dump in it, right in the middle of the sidewalk, while passers-by passed by and made a point of not looking at him while he did it.
It's one of those stories that made me laugh at first, but later...
Twisting, turning, bending, breaking. Well, I haven't broken yet, but I sure can't bend much further without snapping in a million pieces. I mean, how many lies can a person twist before they break? I've been living this life for so long that you'd think lying would just be part of the job by now. I mean, come on. I'm a spy. It shouldn't be this difficult anymore. At the beginning, sure but not now. They stand in front of me and I can see in their eyes that they aren't quite as clueless as before. Oh boy. The boss...