Proles. Can't live with them, cant get elected without them. If I had my way, we'd remove them from the process entirely and let the "adults" handle the important stuff. Sure, we'll throw them a bone every once in a while, you know, just to keep up the illusion that they hold some sort of sway, but honestly, who cares what they really think.

The worst are the ones who try to organize. Luckily, all it takes is a well-timed act of violence. Hell, sometimes it doesn't even require anything more than a vague threat. Remember the dairy farmer uprising?...

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You dance because you don't know any better.

You don't realise what is really going on, you may never truly realise what's going on.

So you dance, the three of you - in a moment they are your sisters, your mothers, your lovers. They are your world, your dance partners, although if anyone asked you their names you couldn't give an answer.

You dance.

You will never see them again, after this moment, after the moon sets and a new day begins. You won't remember anything else about the day but the dance. The dance will live on in your...

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They danced in a circle by the shores off the lake, laughing as they held each other. Their shifts, made of white samite, fluttered around their knees as their feet squelched into the wet ground below them. It was the morning of the vernal equinox, a time of regrowth and enchantment.

The three danced thrice clockwise, then thrice more counter-clockwise before returning to the former for three more rotations. Nine was a magic number to them, the number of years they'd been friends. They smiled at each other, white teeth gleaming as their eyes sparkled.

And then, the waters roiled....

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There was a comma where a semicolon should have been. This drove her crazy. She thought of actually shooting herself in the head but that would have required a 3-day waiting period; besides, she hated guns. So she kept going through the papers, red slashes here, smiley faces there. But many more slashes than smileys. Soon she just started making slashing smiley faces. Her students wouldn't know the difference, she thought.

After all, they couldn't tell the difference between simple punctuation so how could they get her irony?

John, her favorite student and best writer in her Senior Classics class...

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There was a knock at the door. It was Theo, the kid from next door. He was only seven. Wearing nothing but blue jean shorts. Scabs on his knees. Feet filthy. Skinny as a broom. Darn kid probably hadn't eaten since Tuesday.

"You busy?" he asks.

"Kinda," I say, and hold up my crocheting.

Theo looks at the ground then back up at me. "Thing is, I'm hungry and I don't know where mom is."

I sigh. This happens all the time. I back up and let Theo march past me into the kitchen. I thought he was going to...

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He hung his shirt up on the clothesline before he left. He told me he was going fishing, and I said okay, and gave a bucket with sandwiches wrapped in gingham cloth, and lemonade in a mason jar, and even two chocolate chip cookies. He had the bucket and his pole,and I saw him meet our neighbor down the road, watched them shake hands.

And then I went inside, and knitted another pair of baby booties, and refolded the stacks of little clothes in the dresser. Any day now.

But our neighbor came back later that day alone, and distraught....

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There was a party in the upstairs of the building. On the roof. It was my building too. I had lived there for many years. Paying rent, not having a pet (not allowed), putting up with all the noise and rubbish in the hallways and out. There was a lot of nastiness, to be sure, but it was my home. Come to find out, its the building's owners giving the party. A corporate landlord business that aims to put themselves first and the people trying to live in their wasted spaces last. The party was buzzing, I could hear the...

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I looked through my photo album, my fingers flipping the pages quickly, as I looked for that one photo.
There it was, towards the back.
I stopped and smiled.
I could still hear my voice demanding to have this photograph taken.
A woman stood to my right. Her smile shining with pride as her hand held mine. She had always been there for me. Almost as far back as I could remember now. I often thought of her as the source of my conscience because she always seemed to give advice that pointed to the moral north, but at the...

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The lamp wouldn't turn on. Of all the times for the bulb to burn out, it had to be right now? The noises were getting closer and closer to Sam's bed. Whatever they were, they weren't human.

Sure, it was most likely just the wind -- or something equally silly. All Sam needed was half a second of light to confirm that theory, and he'd sleep happily. But no, he couldn't have that. Instead all he had was his imagination to build horrific images for every creak and thud he'd heard all night.

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"Let's go for a walk," I said. "I have eaten the salami and now I have strength and you girls need to find sex partners so you will not be frustrated by your inability to satisfy your sexual needs."

"Yes," one girl said. "Let us go for a walk."

And so we went for a walk. Here is how we walked. We put one foot in front of the other. We kept doing this and eventually, we covered distance. I was wearing boots. The girls were still naked so they were in bare feet. I looked at their bellies, which...

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