Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.
Another time, in Cincinatti, a small wire-haired dog sprinted across a parking lot.
Last week, a gigantic monster on a small planetoid in the vicinity of Proxima Centuri ate a ham sandwich at a local monster-cafe.
On a nuclear sub beneath the ice of the Arctic, a captain of Hungarian descent vomited up the contents of his stomach, ingested the night before at a going-away party for a member of the crew.
On Broadway, a dancer in a leotard nervously practices for an upcoming performance, her...
Marvin knew that he had to return the salad dressing. Last night, it started screaming at him. "BRING ME DWARVES!" it yelled. Strange, since as far as Marvin knew, salad dressing does not have vocal cords.
So he put the salad dressing in a baggie and threw it in the back of his backpack. He could hear the salad dressing yelling. "I HATE THE DARK AND I HATE THE WARMTH!!! THIS IS WORSE THAN THE FRIDGE! THAT WAS DARK BUT AT LEAST IT WAS COLD!!!"
Down the stairs Marvin ran. As he pushed his way out the door, he ran...
The canvas of black engulfs the sky. What once was light is now night. The eggshell-white circle, the great illumination of midnight, is painted on the empty expanse, plastered in place to wane and wax. Across the night, the small dots twinkle and shimmer. In a dance of celebration, they tumble across the sky, taking a ride through the night. And, all around, all around is the night. It's just us and the night, and, all that is right happens tonight. n this spaceship of civilization we cross.
As he exited the train, he realized he had forgotten his bag. The Bag. As he rushed back onto the train to grab it, the train began to pull out of the station, and the bag was gone. Someone had gotten off of the train with it. As this realization hit him, he snatched his phone out of his pocket. It was his only hope. As soon as the Woman In Charge answered, he told her his problem. He could hear her quick tapping from her computer keyboard, as she told him, " Get off at the nearest stop. Turn...
Time starts... now.
She took a deep breath, and put her head under water. Her robes flowed around her, clinging weightlessly to every crve and bone, floating up around her ankles before settling, like her, at the bottom of the tank.
Beneath the water, everything seemed muted. She could ignore the audience, the leering faces, the peering eyes, the raucus, crude carnival music hummed softly through the water, muted and beautiful, a world within a world. She liked it in here. No pressure, other than the water around her, slowly increasing on her lungs. She began to breathe out, a...
Rose stopped short, skidding slightly along the crumbly, dusty mountain path on which she had been jogging, happily listening to her music, enjoying the warmth of the day on her back. She blinked a few times, tried to catch her breath, and then walked back a few feet to where she had thought she had seen the strange sight, the one that had stopped her morning run rather abruptly.
And there it still was. Two enormous pink butterflies playing together in the sunshine, flitting back and forth, their wings glinting, both beautiful.
Rose watched for some time, unable to believe...
"I'm in love with a robot!" "Oh, Barbie, congratulations!" Woody exclaimed, "but what happened to Ken?"
You see, Ken just didn't cut it anymore. Barbie had loved him for so long despite his all-polyester wardrobe, but recently she discovered that he had the hots for Bo Peep.
"What's his name?" asked Mrs. Potato Head. "Alfie, Alfie the spelling robot!" Barbie screamed. "I'm in love and I don't care who knows it!" "Awww," sighed Slink, "another romance in Andy's room."
"Have ya kissed em yet, Barb?"
"Yes, Skipper, I have."
"Awwww." said
Wine makes you drunk if you drink too much. I like wine. Its like grape juice with alcohol. They should put it in juice packs and give it to adults. If you drink wine while your pregnant, then your baby will get messed up and look like a raisin. i like raisins. they are grapes that got old and they got shriveled up, like my uncle. He drank too much wine and got messed up. My mother doesn't drink wine anymore. It kills you slowly.
I walked down the street with my pants around my ankles, arms akimbo, doing the Super Bowl Shuffle with a boombox wrapped around my ears. I had picked up 20 D batteries at the store, and if I was going to do something, I was going to do it right.
With the screaming vocals of Ronnie James Dio blaring from two overworked speakers, I strutted along the Santa Monica Pier. Rather, I did the Penguin Push all down the boardwalk. It was times like these when I was proud to say that I could rock out with my cock out....
There was blood on my pillow. A lot of blood. A ton of blood. Where did it come from? It seemed to be dripping from somewhere. I looked up. The celing was dry. I looked around, I felt my own face, hair, ears, nose...all dry. What the h*ll was going on? Then, I heard something. A step. Two steps. Steps moving across the wood floor near the staircase downstairs. Was this the source of the blood? Was it the cause of the blood? Am I next? I was not injured, but I was still terrifyed. Suddenly, something came bounding around...