Gigantic. Positively enormous. those were the words that first came to mind as she gazed up at the Statue of Liberty. She got into the helicopter and sighed as it shot upwards to the top of the enormous statue. her mind flicked back to Russia, looking up at The Motherland Calls. As she shrugged on her parachute and fixtured her helmet, she very simply jumped. she felt the wind ruffling her hair under the helmet and fusing her eyes shut. She pulled the cord, and drifted downwards, wondering whether she would hit pavement or water. She closed her eyes as...
When I reached end of the running trail in the woods, I ran into a gigantic zombie. Nearly wet my pants. Damn thing had to be seven feet tall.
I remembered that zombies bit skulls open and ate hot steaming brains. Made me wish I was wearing a football helmet. I started to run like hell in the other direcition.
"Wait," he hollered. "I'm thirsty. Got any ginger ale?"
"No. I only got a can of Pepsi."
"Good enough," he said. "Let me have it and I won't catch you and eat your brains."
I reached into my backpack and...
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...
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...
Gigantic.
That was the only way she could describe it. A gigantic mistake.
He had seemed like an excellent choice. A little daring, a little dangerous, but still good-looking. Still smart. Law-school bound and blonde, he could have been taken home.
Waking up in an historic apartment in the Highlands the morning after the Kentucky Derby was romantic. Especially on such a sunny. He pointed out the dog walkers while still wrapped up in white sheets.
She should have never said she knew what she was doing.
It was all good and well having a goal in life. Knowing your purpose.
He had known his for years, he had worked tirelessly day in, day out, for fifteen years, putting his dominoes in place so that he would be able to topple them at the exact moment.
But everyone needs a day off.
The pistol was cocked, ready to go. Its bags were packed, you might say. Its shoes were on, and it was at Grandma's. Its teeth were brushed, its coat on and backpack packed. With bullets.
"Reach for the sky!" Criminal Pete shouted, holding the pistol from the previous paragraph at the unsuspecting victims.
"Okay, okay," the unsuspecting victims all said in unison. They all reached for the sky at the exact same time. They were synchronized mug victims. It was a living!
"Stop that, it's creepy, like dolls or clowns," Criminal Pete said. It was a bit creepy, but less...
Gigantic was a nickname. Gigantic gave himself the nickname Gigantic. Gigantic was many things: loud, abrasive, blond, cigar smoker, and the worst golfer in the county. What Gigantic was not, however, was Gigantic.
Now, he wasn't the smallest guy you ever did see. Five foot three, which is not large, but you might say was the antithesis of Gigantic. But you would have to know the meaning of the word antithesis. And you don't.
Anyhow, Gigantic was the only person who called himself Gigantic. Everyone else called him by his real name, which was Smailey Bott. For some reason, everyone...
Gigantic. Alana stared at it, her mouth open wide. The only word to describe it was gigantic.
"I - I don't know what to say." her voice was barely louder than a whisper.
"Say 'yes'." prompted Max, his eyes wide with anticipation.
Alana stared at it, not daring to make eye contact with him. It was all such a shock and she hated suprises.
He should know that, if he knew her as much as he said he did, he would know this about her. That he didn't raised all sorts of questions.
Braving a glance at Max, she saw...
The results were in. I was going to have to gouge my eyeballs out with a tablespoon and then feed them to Guido, the hungry rhinosaurous on granddad's farm. If I didn't do that, my eyeballs would slowly seep down my face over the next three years. This had to be done.
I stuck the spoon in my eye. It made a sound like GLICK. Blood shot everywhere. My peripheral vision diminished by about 45 per cent. Then I stuck the spoon in my other eye. [NOTE: THE REST OF THIS STORY IS BEING TRANSCRIBED BY MY WIFE, BRENDA, SINCE...