Lorenzo hated the king. That's because the king liked donuts. All he did was eat donuts. Here is what the king said every morning when he woke up: "DONUTS! BRING ME DONUTS!" If you ate a donut, the king would kill you. All donuts were to be consumed only by him.
Because he ate nothing but donuts, he was very fat. He weighed 1600 pounds. He was heavier than the thrown he sat on, which was made of solid gold. He could not get up so the engineers turned his thrown into a makeshift toilet. That way he could consume...
We come from beyond the stars. We are the Yorkie chocolate bars.
I was in Grade 4 and this giant living chocolate bar was walking around the schoolyard. We tried shooting it and pelting it with rocks. But nothing worked. The chocolate bar was too thick.
"YORKIE!" it screamed and then it tickled me. Or gave me a wedgie.
Man, I hated that thing. But I have to confess that in a weird way, I liked it too. Don't ask me why but for some reason, I sensed that it wasn't completely malevolent. No. Deep down, I knew there was...
All I could do is stare. Rendered speechless by the impromptu, silly dance, I stood on the curb and crossed my arms across my stomach, a half smile curling my lips as I watched the motley crew before me dance and sway. Hands clapped above faces masked in what I could only describe as a mask straight from the Happy Mask Salesman from the Legend of Zelda.
Well, at least there was some bright spot to this dreary day. I swayed my hips to their chanting, to the low beats of their music as they moved, tapping my fingers rhythmically...
She opened the envelope and screamed.
It wasn't a scream of happiness. It wasn't a scream of surprise. It wasn't the hoped for money that grandma had promised. It wasn't the test results; they wouldn't come for another week.
It was a finger. In the bottom of the envelope. Dry of blood. Shrivelled and pale and a stub, a nub.
She dropped the envelope and scuttled back into a corner, her fist jammed into her jaw. Her eyes wide, she stared at the finger, as it lolled out of the envelope.
She could smell smoke. It had to be a...
He set the plate before her. She forced a smile, painted lips curving upwards to reveal tips of white teeth. This was his proposal, the setting down of that plate. If she refused to eat, she could leave whenever she wanted without fuss. If she chose to taste of his food, then his actions would be without consequence.
"Are you going to eat?" He asked, sitting down opposite her and picking up his wine glass by the stem with long fingers.
"Are you not?" She replies, voice quiet and on the point of breaking over every sound.
"This is for...
Sandy was impressed. Her son, John, had never thrown a ball back like that before - so hard and fast that it bypassed her completely and flew over the wall at the bottom of the small garden they shared. "Nice one, Johnny!" she yelled. "Let me go and get it, I'll be right back!"
She yanked open the wooden gate recessed into the red brick wall and entered the narrow alleyway at the back of her house - and all the other houses like it. She looked left and right and spotted the ball rolling away from her, towards the...
Let's play a little word association game. I'll start. Are you ready for the word? I'll wait.
Ready now? Okay.
Potatoes.
No, now you say something else. Let's try again.
Potatoes.
No, see, you just repeated my word again. This isn't an echo game, you're not supposed to be the Grand Canyon. Let's try again.
Potatoes.
Okay, seriously, say what comes to mind when I say the word potatoes! I know, obviously the word potatoes comes to mind, but you have to say something else. Because that's how the game works! Come on, son, you're better than this!
What's that?...
she didn't look at him. he had been absolutely horrid. he had simply taken off to the other corner of the world and hadn't even thought to come back and see her first. "Oh, darling. I missed you so much. Sweetheart - is something wrong?" "No - it's nothing." he begged her to tell him what wa wrong. she looked at him with her intense stare. "Why don't you guess? You can't just leave me like that! You said you loved me!" "I do love you.." "If that were true you would have come and seen me before leaving again....
I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "there'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead.
Surprisingly, I don't mind all that much. It's much calmer out here in the abyss. There's a strange peace that comes with being nothing. Or, rather, not being. There is a difference, you see.
Because I am not, I am able to not be wherever I like. And I am not in the middle of everything.
While I was alive, I loved stories. Stories were incredible things. I would look for them everywhere-- music, movies, books, newspapers,...
How do you tell a child that it's over? How do you explain in short, fleeting moments that they have reached the end?
I was always so proud of this child. I hadn't known her for long, but when we found her, she was like a celestial reminder that good remained in the world and that we always have something to fight for. She brought us a reminder of innocence in our darkest and most twisted days, and for that I will forever be thankful.
I had loved watching her grow up. She would tell me tales of imaginary people...