Acid ate up the canvas, leaving the moonlit scene unrecognisable. No longer priceless, breathtaking, desirable. Now a screwed up mess, destined for the trash can, ruined beyond any hope of restoration. Mr. Slovenias the gallery owner cried for the first time in years that day.
Jack spent his first night in jail. Unrepentant. Glad he'd ruined the masterpiece. Certain in the knowledge his act would save humanity.
Betty, Jack's long suffering mother realised that for the first time in her life, she was relieved he was spending the night elsewhere. In fact, if she were really honest with herself, she...
When he'd signed up to visit strange new worlds, he'd never envisioned this. He turned slowly in the glass globe, devoid of even snow or glitter, and bemoaned his fate.
He should have known better than to answer an ad for interstellar traveller posted in the local classifieds.
Crap.
"Sam!" the guy shouted. "This is it!"
Sam followed, but he wasn't sure this WAS it. How could it be? They'd been waiting for this for hours, for days even. How could it be?
"Get the nebulizer," he said. "And be quick."
Sam could never remember what the nebulizer was or what it was for. He didn't think it had anything to do with the surrender, but he didn't really know and so didn't like to say.
"Got it," he said, handing a doohicky over to the ambulance driver.
"Thanks, man," he said, not even looking. The guy was intent...
When Martin stood there in disbelieve, but she was deadly serious. "I understand that you have every reason not to trust me here, Martin, but I'm not kidding. If I bring you to the camp, you will never get that chance again. Your teleporter will be gone forever. So please, do what I told you. And come back." Martin thought about his brother all of a sudden, and how he always pranked him into doing something stupid. He felt the little scar on his index finger, where his brother tricked him into touching mom's iron. And he also thought about...
"Knives."
"Yeah. And?"
"Pepper. Salt. Ducks. Ivory, but don't tell anybody."
"Seriously? Knives?"
He handed me the duffle bag. "Knives. And everything you need to know is in there, too."
"Everything?"
"Everything. The molecular structure of Ferrous Oxide. The length of a stick. The speed of light under water."
"What about the temperature of Jupiters core? The average age of a bitch collie in its first heat? Foreign exchange rates for all currencies against Bhutan?"
"All of that. Plus the phone numbers of every Mossad agent, and their email address and blog addresses. Oh, and the starting lineup of the...
what to do in the gutter
with your mind all aflutter
one could tie their shoe
or sniff glue
you could clip your nails
or make trails
i could learn to flip it
or just do a whippit
he could switch his socks
or sleep with a fox
she could play with pip
or learn to nip
they could read a book
or just get hooked
whatever it is they you or i decide to do
be quick
there are only so many minutes
to
0900 hrs. Scott was seen leaving his fiance's home by a neighbour who looked up as he slammed the door hard and swore loudly.
0930 hrs. CCTV shows Scott going to pay for gas and coming out with a large bag of sweets, getting back into his car and driving off
1100 hrs. Scott's employer Mick Davis calls the fiancee Deborah McVey to ask if Scott is coming into work.
1300 hrs. Deborah has called the police. Scott is missing. He had been depressed after the tragedy with his family.
1500 hrs. Scotts car found with the driver's door open,...
She didn't look at him. She didn't want to. The idea that he was pleading for her forgiveness didn't soften her heart. Rather, it was hardened by the fact that she had given everything to him and had given up everything for him only for him to betray her.
"Please look at me," He pleaded, "Look at me and know that I'm sorry."
"Looks can be decieving," She said harshly, "YOU taught me that!"
He fell at her feet and grabbed her hand, which she shook away violently. Only then did she look at him and he almost wished he...
She'd always come running when I called. At first I only called her when I really needed her, but after a while whether I needed her or not didn't matter; I started to call her just because I could. I didn't realise I was doing it until she called me on it one morning. I'd woken up at 5am and the first thought in my mind had been her, the smell of her, the taste of her, the feel of her. It hadn't occurred to me that she might still be asleep and that she might not appreciate me calling...
The audience stared open mouthed at me. I was petrified at when had just come out of my mouth. Then Amy Smythe began to cry. I don`t blame her, I would have cried, too, if my co-star had called me a stuck-up cow on stage. I could feel the Drama Teacher coming forwards to kick me off stage and tell everyone that there had been a mistake, that the show couldn`t go on now that it`s star had obviously had a psychotic episode onstage. Jeez, I was in for it now. My principal was going to call me in tomorrow...