We've heard of monkeys. All kinds of monkeys. We've heard that we're most closely genetically related to bonobos, we've heard about the flying monkeys of Oz, but what we certainly haven't heard enough about is the infamous "Green Monkeys of Bainsville." You're wondering, what are these fascinating creatures, and where do they originate? Well, if you don't know where Bainsville is...you probably never will. It's tiny. It's known for little else than it's rest stop, although it should be known for it's green monkeys. These devilish little creatures love nothing more than getting up to good old fashioned South Glengarry...
The realization crept over me. My drugs are gone and my friends are few. How very insignificant we all are. Myself especially, I suppose.
He said I didn't deserve pleasure, in so many words. I refuse to agree with that. Everyone deserves pleasure, most especially those who are in such pain.
So now I am left to wonder where I will find relief. The day draws ever closer to my imminent withdrawal, and this one will be severe, of this much I am sure. This little stint has been, by far, the most consistent usage coupled with the most pure...
I was on too many fucking drug to put up with this bullshit hipster girl with a balloon full of who the fuck even knows. Fuck that. I knew that I was signing up for a quirky-ass time but I didn't realize that that meant chasing someone through alleys full of rapists and foreigners and then what. My prize would probably be equally quirky, like ten gallons of Sunny D or an Altoid tin full of minty condoms. At this point I didn't care about the prize. I just wanted the game to end.
I'd been dragged into this by...
"I'm in love with a robot."
"What?!"
"I am in love with a robot. I really am. I just realized it."
"I am concerned that you don't know what love is."
"Well - me too, but that's not the point. I am concerned that you don't know what robots are."
"What is a robot? Who is this robot that you "love?"
"A robot is someone who functions on the basis of identifiable algorithms or functions. It is someone who may appear human but is not. You."
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...
The conversation lasted two words: "Good Luck." She said. Tantor took a deep breath as he walked down the silent hallway. The foot steps of his armored boots echoed off the walls.
"This is Green leader, reaching jump pods now." He spoke into the headset in his helmet. "Rodger that Tantor, Greens two, three and four are ready to jump." The cybernatic AI downloaded into his HUD replied.
"What about Black team?" he asked.
"Blackheart's team is also ready to drop." she answered. The jump pod's hatch slowly opened upward. Tantor took a deep breath and sat down into the...
Portraits lined the hallway. No matter where you stood, it seemed like the eyes were following you, staring at you in disdain. Freddy didn't care for the effect, so he hurried his way through the hall to the sitting room.
A large statue stood in the center of the room. The white marble figure resembled a famous historical figure, but Freddy couldn't quite place just which one--perhaps Ben Franklin. Ben Franklin 1.0, to be exact. Ben Franklin 1.2 was currently going through some new, more rigorous testing because Baron Von Bonn's steambot army made short work of the original. Luckily,...
Private Morlane. Rooster. Let the regiment sleep. Gun. Trigger. Regiment sleeps.
Did you believe, like me, that there were monsters under the bed? I would leap from the middle of the room, my feet thudding on the mattress, determined that no hands would grab at me from that dark , malevolent recess between bedframe and floor.
The woodgrain on the antique wardrobe would melt into the face of a hooded figure. The deep, soulless gaze visible only to my terrified young eyes. Yet the most frightening part of the night was the key in the door and the gruffness of the slurring voice.
No, my monsters didn't live under the bed....
She had no idea why she'd put on her red party dress this morning. It was cold, it was overcast, and she had nowhere special to go. Still, when she'd awakened this morning, the thought that made her want to get up was not any of these:
- You have the entire day to yourself
- You deserve to do something fun
it was:
- You love the way you look in that dress.
So, on an autumn morning indistinguishable from the days that proceeded and would follow it, Sal was wearing her red silk dress, a natty trench coat,...