The radio program came back from commercial and the husky voiced woman continued talking about robots. Steve imagined her full lips moving closely to the microphone as she discussed how robots should and should not be used.
"Some people say it's unnatural to give the elderly a robot companion," she said. "But it gives them something to talk to, even if they never respond. Studies show that seniors who have pets are happier, and live longer. But a dog cannot answer either, so what's the opposition to robots?"
Steve thought that was a stretch of belief, but her thick whiskey...
as i was running i felt a rush go though me, chasing that animal was on of the best thing i have ever felt. knowing what was going to happen i chase . i catch . i kill. the fun is over, but now im ravonious . i enjoy my meal slurping every last piece of it the hunger is gone now. im tierd. i go back to the pack and sleep. having a wonderous dream about that delishious zebra
In the event that you perchance upon a mythological entity, and said entity or, dare I say, entities, have desired coconuts, the directions for capturing said coconuts is as follows:
Step 1: Determine if entity — say, your brother — is malicious in intent, or simply a selfish flesh-eating neanderthal.
Step 2: Break his ankles, or perhaps if you feel lucky, both pinky toes.
Step 3: Steal said coconut, bash open with rock and/or machete.
This of course can only work in aforementioned mythical kingdoms. If your brother is Pelops, and you are Tantalus, then you are fully fucked. Perhaps...
…and at some moment you realize how wrong you were all that time. You don't need this anymore. Absurd. So annoying. You hear same phrases, stories, noises. And you cant do anything about it. You try to explain but what can you do when you are not used to explaining yourself. You have that stoned look on your face and not a thing can disturb you now. Because all you can hear are your thoughts. All you can feel is…and you make your first shot...
Same silence, the only difference is that you can actually hear that ear-breaking noise. Three...
Skipper was panting from the last half hour of running, in fact he was frothing at the mouth. Compared to the rest of his pack however, Skipper was doing quite well. In their eerily black and white world, one of their best friends had begun to experiment on the poor dogs, and now, their world had exploded inexplicably into a cosmos of strange and disconcerting qualities. The farmer had, much to Skipper and the other dogs' dismay, altered the K-9's to the point that they had been forced to trust their previously useless eyes more than their noses. What had...
I couldn't move. My legs felt like jelly and I had to sit. Everything in the hospital seemed to go blurry.
"Are you ok?" asked the doctor. No I was not ok. The love of my life just died and It was all because of me. Anything would be better than this hell. Even an electric chair. As long as Joseph was alive I would be fine but now he's gone and I will never be ok again.
Bombs were the last thing on his mind. The first thing on his mind was an egg salad sandwich. Then bombs. He had exactly two things on his mind.
He was a very simple fellow, a bomb enthusiast who ate nothing but egg salad sandwiches. He didn't even have a proper name. Just He. Sometimes He answered to His or Him, depending on the tense.
There was a bomb in the bedroom and, being a bomb enthusiast, he was enthused by this. The only way to defuse the bomb was to eat the fuse. The fuse was not an egg...
"Dragonflies are good luck," his grandmother used to say. "They are fairies' horses. Their wings spread wishes and wonder."
He remembered that and not much else about her. They would sit in the grass by the shore of the lake. He used to spend three weeks every summer out at his grandparents house. They picked blueberries and chopped wood, made cookies and walked in the woods.
He was an adult now. They were long dead.
His daughter stood in front of him, frowning, hands onm hips. "That's not true, daddy. Dragonflies are dragonflies, not horses. And fairies don't exist."
He...
This wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to feel this way; about your mother-in-law. But didn't the saying go, if you wanted to know what your wife would look like in 30 years...and that was another thing. She only had another few years in her. Her husband wasn't giving it to her. I'm a goddamn octo-phile, he thought. Was that the word? But she was perfect -- an insurance commercial, the cover of Mature Living, hell, the centerfold.
"Theo, is everything all right, dear?" Theo had begun mumbling to himself.
"Yes, mom. I'll have another hot dog, if you...
I couldn't sleep with her next to me. The window was wide open, and there was something resembling a breeze rustling in through it, but the bedroom was stifling, and I could feel every molecule of my skin bonding inextricably with hers. I peeled myself away painfully, and she bristled.
"Where are you going?"
"Babe, it's hot. Really. I'm gonna go sleep on the couch."
"What's wrong with me? Why can't you just sleep on the other side of the bed?"
"There is no other side of the bed. There's no space to do anything but cuddle, and I can't...