Hats. Of every shape and size. I love them all. You may call me crazy, or you may not. I love them all, of every color and make. I make some, I find others. I keep them all by my side, and drink my tea as I study them. Who am I you ask? Some strange Hatter? Well to be more precise i'm a MAD Hatter. Yes that's correct. I am a bit mad, but who isn't? Hats just so happen to catch my fancy, and I love to make them. I also collect them. I can find you a...
"Wait, let me send a pic...." Darren closed one eye as he aimed his phone and snapped a picture, capturing the female figure in three quarter view, just before the turning stage she stood on spun her slowly away.
He gazed at the picture, ran his thumb over the screen, before attaching it to the a text and sending it. The female figure had turned back around and he gnawed on his lips as he briefly met eyes with her. They were glossier than one would be used to, the whites would glitter, something in the plastic, or enamel or...
"It's gorgeous." breathes Nora, enchanted by the dress in the window.
"That's as may be," mumbled her husband, "but we can't afford it."
Nora sighed deeply; it was always the same story. Whatever she wanted, they couldn't afford. It was a different matter, when he wanted to go to the Working Man's Club, or whatever he got up to. Money just appeared out of nowhere for that.
Begrudgingly, she followed him as he walked off, hands in his pocket as usual.
"Just going to find a newsagents." he announced, barely waiting for a reply.
Fine, she thought, knowing that he'd...
Norman was a doctor. He was a doctor because he was good at fixing things, and at some point in his life he determined that the most important things that needed fixing were human beings. So he became a doctor.
He looked rather doctor-ish, in his trenchcoat, his traveling case of medical supplies and his pattern baldness. He was friendly, having the bedside manner that everyone expected of a good doctor.
The day that the sun became sick, people all over the world panicked. Some rioted, looted, killed one another, for in a world that was nearing its end, one...
There was blood on my pillow.
My nose was dry. I hadn't bit my cheek. I hadn't somehow lost a tooth. A quick examination of my skull told me that it remained intact.
Oh, duh, I have DNA-Vision. I forget sometimes.
I scanned the blood on my pillow. It wasn't mine.
So where had it come from?
"Ah ha! It was me!" yelled someone from the foot of my bed.
It was my arch-nemesis, The Hemophiliac. Of course!
"What have you done?!" I roared.
"I snuck into your bedroom last night and bled on your pillow! But don't worry; I...
There was blood on my pillow. I flew out of bed as soon as I noticed it, but I could not remember where it had come from. I began to panic as I stared at it and tried to think about what I had done.
Was I attacked?
Was I drunk?
Was I a party in pillow-related homicide?
These questions whirled through my head until a sudden noise nearly knocked me over with fright. The phone was ringing. I worried about who might be calling, and simultaneously tried to collect myself. "Hello," I said, "Who ith thith?"
These words alone...
Well, I wasn't prepared for this. Genetic engineering really is only my minor. I majored in Music Education, and do a helluva good job at it, if I do say so myself.
The genetic engineering project was supposed to be more kid friendly. A cockatoo and a persian cat, gene spliced, to for some sort of mutated mix. The math (something I'm freely admitting to be poor at) implied more of a cat's head. I got the bird head. Must have not carried the three.
Anyway.
I'm going to have to raise it now. There's no getting out of that....
She was the most delicate girl in town. But looks could be deceptive. Ruth knew he was somewhere in the house. Unfamiliar surroundings would make it difficult for easy location of prey, but that wouldn't delay the inevitable. She was as confident as she could be that no help would come. The old place was too isolated; one of its charms. Ironically, it was what had attracted her to the place. The appeal of sole occupation. Nothing to disturb her work.
Fortunately, she'd made it to the Kitchen and its drawers of sharp, clean, very clean knives. Ms. (note the...
Your foundation was laid a long time ago. You said it was always the same, just before. His voice offering up your name with a percussive beat, "James," and the sharp hammer blow of "short for nothing." that always followed.
When you left you took ownership of it: patching the walls and putting new paint on it to try and make it different. A thin veneer of you, built on the framework of someone else.
When I moved in you made room for me. You let me fill some of that space, as you did for me. I think she...
"what is it," he asked, "With people today?"
"Well, that's a fairly broad question, isn't it? There couldn't possibly be a sufficient answer," I started to say. I got as far as "We..." before he started back in again.
"No no no no no." The volume doubled. "NO NO NO NO NO NO!"
"No what, dude?" I tried to sip, but my glass was empty. Worst service ever. If I could just catch the eye of the damn
"NO!" He grabbed my arm. "Don't be this, like, moral relativist. Some things are better than others, and people used to read...