The Loch Ness Monster was on vacation. As was the case with most celebrities, Nessie wanted her privacy. This wasn't a working vacation, it was for her own sanity, and she didn't intend to frighten anyone while relaxing in Lake Superior.
Then the stupid dog looked down. Stupid dogs, always looking down. Nessie was in the middle of her favorite book, "Flowers in the Attic" and she popped up very briefly just to see if it was raining or night, or if there were any passing UFOs she could snack on. Instead, there was a dog.
"Shoo, stupid dog!" she...
The view was stunning. Marie drew deep, ragged breaths and looked out over the valley below. The climb had been ardous but definitely worth it. The music was coming to a cressiendo and she instincively lifted the headphones a little as the sound got too loud for her. She sighed and smiled. Life was ok. The adrenalin from the climb upp the hill had settled her mind and she was ok. Even though there was only an empty apartment waiting for her back in town she was going to be ok. Life went on, the world still held beauty even...
Immoveable objects.
She'd presumed that they were just an illustrive device - the nemesis of the unstoppable force. It hadn't occurred to her that, actually, they did exist.
Why they existed in a forest was another matter entirely. It wasn't exactly clear (well, the object was, that was why she couldn't see it) why an immoveable object should want to be in a forest. Was there something about forests that made it such a rich environment, suited to objects that resisted force?
Walking around it didn't seem to be an option - immoveable and apparently large. Impossibly large. It was...
Holy crap, this guy is annoying me again. I mean Jesus Christ, what does he want now?
He always bugs me, hits my head and walks right behind me. It seems no matter where I go, he is there waiting.
Then, when I need him, he can't be found. He disappears for what appears to be hours on end, only to take his pants off and then call for me.
What am I? A servant? I don't fetch things like beer. I don't fold clothes.
Fuck man, I'm cat.
I keep the creases in the clothes nice by laying on...
No, the blood stains in the carpet don't come out. Yes, I tried. Yes, I did my best. No, there's no lingering smell.
Press conference for killer. Talk shows, radio interviews, Good Morning America 3-minute-segments before commercial break. They don't throw hard question at you. They give you chance to explain yourself. They don't press further.
Smiles, genial smiles and well-trained laughs at cued moments. We get along in front of audience. He laugh at joke about face victim made before death. Well there you have it, he say to camera. Inside the mind of a true killer, he say....
It was raining and I had nowhere to be and somehow that Leonard Cohen record was on again.
Today I will vanquish nothing.
Today my triumphs will be small and non tangible, smoke like.
I will start with coffee and end with whiskey, the couch will remain the same.
Tomorrow I will be a better man for having lived today slow, reading, sipping - not struggling or scheming. Just the rain and and the mood and my slight beauaty.
I was twelve years old when I first sat behind the wheel. I was very nervous to drive but as I was very much into cars and always wanted to drive, I somehow had that believe in me that I could do it. People usually start learning to drive in open fields or somewhere in free areas with less cars running around, but I started my first drive in quite a busy area and I still could managed to do it. Since then I have started driving and so far luckily I have not met a big accident. I wont...
The results were in. The young men standing before the judges fidgeted anxiously in their military-style uniforms. James Cox, the eldest and team captain of Squad A, licked his lips nervously as he glanced over at his group's only rivals, Squad Z. They'd eliminated the twenty-four others between them through a mixture of deceit, strategy, and main strength.
"Team Captains Cox and Denmark, step forward," Vice-General Mark Harrelson said curtly. Instantly the two young men, both sixteen, moved the single step forward. "Team Z is this year's winner," Harrelson said in a flat voice.
James had an instant of remorse...
The girl adjusted the ancient headset irritably. Stupid thing was a poor substitute for her surround sound wireless earbuds, and frankly time was crucial in her quest--she had five minutes to get to the bottom of the mountain or the Ravaging Horde would catch up t0 her and her guild would never forgive her.
They'd given her the manuscript to protect, after all! And it was supposed to be because she'd been an all-star runner in middle school, as if that had anything to do with anything. But her headphones not working was totally an exo.
She tapped the ridiculous...
Bobby crossed the street at precisely 11:15 that night, his umbrella head firmly in hand to keep the snow off his young head. He'd decided earlier that night he had to run away from home, had to get away from the toxicity before it killed him. His parents were insane, always yelling and throwing things, hitting each other.
Bobby crossed the street at precisely 11:15 that night. At the exact same time the car came speeding down the street, careening crazily through the snow and ice. The vehicle hit the twelve-year-old head on. Luckily for the boy, the impact instantly...