Tigger was not just any old Maine Coon Cat. He was *the* Maine Coon Catt. It was perhaps a lengthy code name for a spy but he liked it all the same.
He unfolded the small piece of paper that had been folded up inside the sole of the shoe he had just been handed at the dry cleaners.
"Distract the Family Dog Captain," it read.
Tigger knew the Family Dog and knew that distracting him from his important task of manning the security barrier that led from the A Zone into Second Street and beyond would not be easy....
She hid behind the thin sheet of fabric. Her hair gently fell upon her bare back as she felt the breeze gently brush against her bare chest. Her eyes shifted from left to right as she watched his every move. He walked to the edge of the bed and began to unbutton the wrinkled dress shirt he sport that night. The shirt reeked of hard liquor and a slight hint of nicotine. She breathed in the heavy scent of sin that floated through the room. Unable to control herself, she let out a soft moan. He turned towards her direction....
He steps on to the yellow line, crossing the line is something he's practised at. It is an art-form, not something he does with paint or words, but step by step, despite the open arms of the person standing alongside him who is trying to make him stop and think. He sees the oranges, standing side by side next to the limes, he wants to pick up a lime and throw it, but a car crawls by and he doesn't, he picks up an orange instead and throws it as far as he can. The orange flies through along the...
They were listetning. I think they might have heard ebery word I was saying. Did I care? Yes, for they were the ones who controlled my mind. It all started when I laid down my head to sleep a few days ago. Not in my bed, but in remote field somewhere in west Texas. What was I doing three, near Odessa but not as far as El Paso? Intersting question, and I;m not even sure I know why. I just drove. Drove for miles and miles. Hours and hours. I was running from soemthing, something I didn't really undertsand. It...
"Travel light, but take everything with you." That was the only advice my father ever gave me, before he left. I was six.
I took it to heart, it was the only thing I had of him. I never knew where he went, he told me it was important, but that's what you tell a child when you have to leave, no matter the reason. So when mother died, I was seventeen with nothing to me but that advice. I decided to seek out my father, to know where he had gone, to walk in his footsteps. I needed to...
My eyes were tired; I rolled over in my bed, and stared briefly at the moon.
I turned back to face my fan; the 90-degree summer heat only dropped to 78 overnight, enough to make me sleep in shorts and a tank top.
My phone buzzed and lit-up its orangy color. Message from: Alex. I clicked to read the message, and it was some drunken rambling. "Oh boy," I thought, "what now?"
Our messages would go back and forth with when we would meet again, to what each other did that day or night. That was the summer I owed...
Daring to be noticed for the first time in her life, she pushed her chair back and stood up.
"I must protest!" she shouted, above the din of the room.
The man at the other side looked at her quizically. "Miss Whitely, would you please sit down? You're not allowed to speak out until it's your turn in the witness stand."
"But this man is slandering me! I never did any of those things!"
"Miss, that's how court works. They tell their story, and you tell yours."
"But it's wrong!"
The prosecutor sighed. This was going to be a long...
You can count me out. You really think I'm going to use that thing? that dangerous, weapon-like thing? You really think I'm going to lug around four pounds of dead animal flesh? Think again. Don't even get me started on the sphere of death as I like to call it. Have you noticed how it comes toward its victim, hurling itself through space at a hundred and seventy-five miles per hour, no conscious, just aim and fire. It's not for me. I'm not saying I'm a wimp, I'm not saying you're crazy. I'm saying I have no wish to die....
The results were in, she said. And he ran and ran and ran and ran, disregarding the shouts of teachers behind him, just running and running and running till he reached the office. It was up on the bulletin board, sandwiched between changes in the lunch menu and posters for bake sales. He stopped for a moment, breathless, eager. Slowly he let himself look at it. The names were up. He scanned through them: Joe Malone. Hendrick Smith. Jerry Pandrip. Jonathan Sinker. Hetty Carbuncle.... so many names. He knew most of them: they had been his companions during the test,...
Maggie came to Heathrow airport on a white pony she had purchased along the Thames. She was hoping to board the next blind flight to Asia. Perhaps it might take her to Tibet, but you never know with those sort of flights. She had packed a variety of items in her wicker basket, which she always looped to the brass hooks above the seats on the plane. The basket had a vertical fold-out tray, where she had assembled her afternoon tea: a cup of Earl Grey and four cucumber cream cheese sandwiches.
She got in the security line at sector...