The pistol was cocked... Ready to go. I didn't know what to do...
Should I shoot? Should I run? It was a question which required some thought. But I had no time to think.
I needed to think back to my college philosophy classes. Fight or flight. Talk or smoke.
So... I reached into my pocket slowly, all the while showing my pistol...
"Just let me show you my credentials"
hen I dropped my pistol. Then I ran.
"Should I do it?"
"What if I am found out?"
The struggle raged on in Wendy's head. It had all been too much for her. She had lost her job just the month before. Now she was struggling to keep the strands of life together. There was no food in the refrigerator, bills were piling up, there were too many empty wine bottles and worst of all, her friends no longer called her.
"What can I do," she asked herself. "There's just no other way than this."
Sitting on the kitchen floor in front of the oven, she struggled with...
It was cold, so cold. I had been held captive in this house for a little over 6 months now, and i was starting to go cabin crazy. The tiny oven was the only source of heat until my captor got home. I recalled the day i was kidnapped. I had been walking with friends in Central Park. Suddenly, a man grabbed me from behind and chloroformed my friends. I had been tied up, and had been laying in the back of a truck for a few hours before i saw where i was. It was al little house, in...
She sat cold in her bedroom; freezing. Holding the book to her chest like she couldn't let it go. That book held all of her secrets. Good and bad, ones that could even get her, and some others arrested.
She knew she had to pull herself together; at this point she was sobbing, thinking of everything that was going on in her life, why she was sitting in a nightshirt in the 60 degree house when it was -8 outside, when she could be bundled up somewhere else where it was actually warm outside.
She opened her journal for some...
Karen, Jersey girl extraordinaire, departed Manhattan for the left coast two years ago. She'd brought her big hair and big dreams.
After slim pickings and several waitressing gigs she knew that she'd arrived. Finally a part she could be proud of. She was playing the new mom on "I didn't know I was pregnant."
Hugging her knees, Tanya stifled another sob. Her face felt swollen and sore, yet numb from the pain. Sitting in the pitch black, the only light coming from the oven which was still humming beside her. The lasagna she had been making for tea splashed across the floor and up the walls.
She could hear Tim banging upstairs, the slamming of cabinets in the bathroom as he got changed. He couldn't go to the pub with blood on his shirt, could he?
Tanya knew she would have to clear up the mess at some point, but for now she was...
People exiting the Proles said that the voting papers looked rigged. One woman reported looking for the her chosen candidates name but could only find Sugar Cane and when she sought to choose his running-mate there was a similar error Imp Palin.
There has been confusion all over this Mid-Western town today as voters have scrambled from prolling booth to prolling booth to find ballot papers without spelling errors to the names of the candidates for president. Some people have said that the whole matter was a plot by the Burning Bush outgoing President to try and secure another term....
"The proles are revolting" the minister shouted. "They stink on ice" chimed another.
The prince stood montioned for silence and spoke. "My Grandpere was a prole which makes me 1/4 prole and I'll have no such talk in here." "Now if theres no objections let's get the hell out of here!" "The train for Geneva is leaving soon, Proles be damned!"
It was morn in the Garden of the Hesperides. Clouds of warm mist floated around, cloaking everything in white. The three Hesperides were dancing around Hera's golden apple tree, singing to make it grow. Ladon burst from his cave, growling. "Everyone's a critic. Quiet Ladon! You're upsetting the tree!" Hope, the eldest Hesperide, yelled at their scaly roomate. They sat down near the roots of the enormous tree and waited for their 9:00 appointment. "Cousin Apollo should be here in 3...2...1." Peace said, looking at the vines.
If there was hope, it lay with the proles... or something like that. Winston, the character from that stupid book he'd been forced to read for English lit, had been whinging on about how the proles were stupid or something, but yet he seemed to find hope in their humanity. What? Why? His teacher would want him to expand on the concept, and he couldn't very well just copy the Cliff Notes word for word, nor admit that he'd simply read the synopsis. He called up Cara.
Her voice sounded sleepy on the phone. "Yeah? What do you want?"
"Why...