"Well...that happened," thought the little pup as he watched his owner be eaten by a sharktopus. At least, he thought it was a sharktopus. His owner had been talking about it over and over again to random objects in the house like the small, hard thing that glows and vibrates every five minutes or the really loud block that holds the other block. He did very much like his owner, but he was often quite dumbfounded at his owner's abilities. For instance, whenever talking to him, his owner changed his voice as if he were someone else. Sometimes, when he...
Poor Kait. She has a knee brace. That sucks. How ever will she compete in the Canadian KICK GUYS IN THE NADS CHAMPIONSHIP? I dunno. Kait's awesome at kicking guys in the nads. That's cause she meets lots of arseholes. They come up to her and say: "Hey, want to smell my Cheeto breath?" Then BAM!!! A knee in the nads courtesy of Miss Kait.
Yessir, Miss Kait's won the championship three years in a row. Kait McGee, national nad kneeing champ. So when she broke her knee last week opening that can of Ravioli, all of us were just...
Wistfully the dog gazed out over the water. The sandwich his owner had not been able to finish was floating away, moving teazingly with the waves. If he had not been tied down with a leash the dog would have jumped in the water after that sandwich. He had not yet had anything to eat today and his stomach was complaining. The sound of his owner's laugh brought his mind back to the ship. He jumped down from the railing just a split second before the leash was janked. Trotting obediently after his master the dog contemplated all the smells...
Marvin knew that he had to return the salad dressing. Last night, it started screaming at him. "BRING ME DWARVES!" it yelled. Strange, since as far as Marvin knew, salad dressing does not have vocal cords.
So he put the salad dressing in a baggie and threw it in the back of his backpack. He could hear the salad dressing yelling. "I HATE THE DARK AND I HATE THE WARMTH!!! THIS IS WORSE THAN THE FRIDGE! THAT WAS DARK BUT AT LEAST IT WAS COLD!!!"
Down the stairs Marvin ran. As he pushed his way out the door, he ran...
Our eyes locked right before she went for the stuffed duck. I watched her bite it with resolution, shake her head back and forth like a dog. Her eyes met mine again with a clear and concise message: "My duck."
The duck became her best friend. I hardly talked to her unless she was eating my food. Then I yelled. It probably wasn't the most mature thing to do.. but what the hell. I fell in love from afar. I fell in love with her maple brown eyes, with her glistening nose, with her adorable whimper. She didn't know it...
What was that? I swear to god, something just went under the boat. I don't know what it was, but it was shiny, and it was fast.
Is it lunch time yet? I like lunch time. Everyone gathers near the front of the boat, eating their sandwiches and chips. Most usually share, at least a little bit. It's not like everyone can eat all of that. Most usually share, but you gotta watch closely. Gotta be vigilant. And be careful of the gulls. They'll sneak up on you in an instant. They scare easy, but man, are they sneaky.
I've...
The wolves were out. Howling sounds tingled his ears. The moon, full, glowing, reminded Harold of the night it first happened.
Skin stretching.
Eyes twitching.
Muscles growing.
The transformation didn't take long - his body temperature dropped 25 degrees to a cool 73.6, perfect vampire temperature. Absolutely freezing to a human. Harold hated being a human - he loved the hunt, the chase of his prey. He was like those families in those books, the Cullens... He feasted on animals, not people. A different kind of monster - not a permanent one, one that changed on necessity. A vampire by...
A crappy painting of a girl in headphones standing on the crest of a mountain, surrounded by butterflies. This is what passes for art these days? Seriously, thought Darren, I've seen better finger paintings.
As he made his way from picture to picture, Darren realized that art wasn't really his thing. Eventually, he made his way back to the entrance of the labyrinthine museum and stepped back out into the practical, utilitarian world of the city in which he lived.
Still thinking about the butterfly painting, Darren wandered through the streets of the bustling, monochrome city, occasionally bumping elbows with...
This starts out as a fairy tale, but does not end as such.
Riding on a subway, Jane was squirming with self-consciousness. Shaking dark curls out of her eyes, she wiped her shaking, clammy hands on purple and black striped leggings, brushing her elbow against the heavy object that was swinging gently -- almost innocuously -- in her left hand jacket pocket.
It's so heavy, she thought. Would I be able to drink all of it?
Earlier that day, she had obtained a potion in a sketchy graffiti-infested alleyway from her great-great-grandfather, who was alive and well -- and a...
She heard it calling out to her. Her clearing in Yellowstone -- it was whispering that it longed for her presence. And on this day, when she felt like the world was collapsing around her -- its edges bent and frayed and its fringes burning up in smoke -- she dragged herself there up winding paths and wild trees.
While most people saw Yellowstone as a national park, she saw it as her backyard, her sanctuary, her refuge. She had a clearing there, all her own, that bears in the hundreds of years they'd been there hadn't even found. But...