I was trying to count them. The little bastards kept moving around, making me lose track, infuriating me to no end. I had been awake for almost thirty hours and sleep was no closer than it had been twenty-nine hours ago. Even my imagination wouldn't collaborate in sending me into unconsciousness. Goddamn sheep.
Sheep and sleep were two very similar words, I decided. I instantly sought to catalog all the words that rhymed with sleep. Bleep, steep, reap, peep, seep, weep, beep, keep, jeep. Meryl Streep.
The original verb still eluded me. It would be a long night (and day).
"I'm in love with a robot."
"No, you aren't."
"I am. I'm in love with a robot. Honestly."
"That isn't love, and that definitely doesn't count as a robot. It's..."
"I'm not talking about that." She flushed. "You are disgusting sometimes."
I was fairly certain I was disgusting most of the time. Possibly all the time. "So, what is this, in love with a robot? What robot is it? Can you get upgrades, software patches, apps?"
She shook her head. "It's a character. Well. An avatar."
"Oh, this just gets better and better. Is there a real person behind it,...
People seem to think that just because my sister and I are identical twins that we are exactly alike in absolutely everything. That is SO not true. If I want to watch a movie, she wants to read a book. If she wants to wear her hair up, I want mine down. If I want to paint the walls blue she wants green. And on and on the list of our differences goes. We don't seem to agree on much but even so, my sister is my best friend. We DO agree that its fun to switch places and live...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.
A voice calls out urgently. She rises, summoned.
"Yu-Jing, laundry!" It is harsh and altogether unkind. She glides into the hall, gown flowing behind askance. Her eyes rest on the floor.
She is addressed without being seen. "Have them cleaned. Collect them tomorrow." The girl gathers, bundles, wraps, more delicately than they deserve. The red gown flows behind her over the floor, across the doorway, into the streets. Yu-Jing takes her master's bundle to the laundromat, the red splashing colors into the muddy pools of the...
It came at me. At a speed of lightning. I couldn't think. Speak, or even hear correctly.
The crowbar was flung directly at the side of my head. It nearly missed my face and I could hear the buzzing of crowbar go through the air. Joe ran for me and the crowbar as I sprinted for a safe place.
Joe and his gang were following behind me. There;s now
The results were in: I won. I won first place in the contest. What contest? The contest to setermine who would recieve the grand prize of 1 milllion dollars. Shocked, flaberghasted! Amazed! crying! I couldn't belive it! I said to to Milred, the clerk at the counter, "Wait. Are you serious? I won? Are you sure? Could you check my ticket again, just to make sure?" Milred, a 65 year old grandmother who could barely see over the counter, said, "Mister. I've looked at it three times already. You must belive it. You have won. You are a wealthy man...
It was two years before I was born. It was one year before my husband was born. His parents had not met yet. When they would meet, in 1987, they would fall in love quickly. Not instantly, but quickly and deeply. The story of his beginning, and of his childhood, was happy.
I waited. Two years were left to pass before I could make any decision.
My husband's mother was young. She seemed kind, but I could not get much of a sense of her personality, no matter how much I watched her. She was a private person. Reserved. Even...
I'm a rockstar. And I want to be a rockstar. Doesn't make much sense, does it? Doesn't to me, either. I guess I just want to be a better rock star then my enemy, who is also a rockstar. Hey, guess what my name is? Rock Star. Not even joking. Rock Xavier Star. Idiot parents gave me a guitar for my first birthday and now I'm Rock Star the rockstar. I hate my life.
Annabelle Clarisse, was born blind but her disability never stopped her from visualising the world with her other senses. She could smell how spring was just around the corners as the flowers bloomed and how she could hear the chips of little hatchlings be born. Annabelle was never sad about how she was but instead she turned her negativity into something greater by become an artist. Her very first art piece was published in France,1943 where the she showed her audience how she saw the world with her own imagination. Her sense of touch helped her visualise he paintings by...
When he first saw her, it was by accident - in the rain, striding, determined, certain. She glared at the rain that fell around her, almost daring it to her touch her.
He almost dropped the stack of books he needed ro reshelve - not because she was beautiful, not because she was charming, but becaue she looked so devestatingly angry.
The rain wasn't listening to her; her hair was flattened against her head, her clothing glistening, almost shining against the dark sky. Sun seemed to be attempting to get through - maybe if she glared hard enough at the...