Winter

Louis took a deep breath in through his nostrils, "Can you feel it?"

"Feel what?" Hannah replied, shivering.

"That winter air! Isn't it great?"

"You mean the biting cold? The wind that blows straight through you no matter how many layers you're wearing?"

"The delightful monochromatic ambiance," Louis continued, "The absolute stillness of the landscape."

"The gloomy, dreary sameness of it all?" Hannah retorted. "The strange sensation that nothing is alive and never will be again? The lingering doubt of your own mortality?"

"The long evenings! Hot chocolate by a roaring fire!"

"Limited daylight! Vitamin D deficiencies! Frostbite!"

"Snow," Louis smiled.

Theodore

"Every day is the same," Theodore says with an apathetic sigh, "Nothing interesting ever happens."

Two kung fu masters fly through a window behind him. Glass pieces rain to the floor. A battle of battles is waged to Theodore's backside. He does not notice.

"My life is just one dull series of events leading to more dull series of events," Theodore picks at his teeth.

From multiple directions, the kung fu masters are surrounded by ninjas. They form a temporary alliance to deal with the new threat. This all happens outside of Theodore's scope of vision.

"Bored out of my mind!"

The Pain Cuts Deep

"How about we watch A Knight's Tale tonight? I liked that movie," Annette says.

"No, we can't watch that," Paige says, "The main character is dead. It's just too painful to watch. Why don't we watch This Is It instead?"

"He's dead, too!" I cry. "We can't watch that, either!"

"What about Clueless? We could watch that!" Adam suggests.

"Brittany Murphy's dead, too!" Dana laments.

"I know," I say, "How about we watch old OxiClean infomercials?"

The entire group wails in agony.

"I had to throw out three tubs of the stuff," Ron says, "It reminded me too much of him!"

Reason for the Season

The young Macphersons swarmed the Christmas tree like locusts on a ripe field. They greedily snatched at presents without regard for anyone or anything.

"Hold it right there," said Mama Macpherson, "You youngins have forgotten the reason for the season!"

"Sorry, Ma," the Macpherson kids said in unison.

"Why dontcha sing a Christmas carol, and think about who gave you those presents."

A melancholy verse rose in the living room:

Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday, Baby Jesus.
Happy birthday to you!

Mama Macpherson wiped a single tear from her eye, "That's what Christmas is all about!"

The Year Santa Stole Christmas- Part 5

Gifutoman was waiting for Santa on the summit of Mount Fuji.

"Your reign ends now, Gifutoman!" Santa said. "I'm canceling Christmas!"

"You cannot cancel Christmas," Gifutoman said in the English dub (supposedly Gifutoman is better with the Japanese voice and English subtitles), "Only with rampant materialism can we recover from this worldwide recession." Gifutoman shot rockets from his elbows.

Santa dodged. "What about charity and goodwill toward men?" Santa said as he pummeled Gifutoman into submission.

The children of the world woke up to stockings full of coal, and developed a cynical spirit that followed them the rest of their lives.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The Year Santa Stole Christmas- Part 4

"There is only one solution," Santa's voice carried with it a stoic steadiness that it never really had before. The laughter had ended. His belly was rock candy hard with conviction. "Every child is on the naughty list this year."

"You can't put every child on the naughty list!" Jangle the elf protested, "That's— that's—"

"—the truth," Santa said, the twinkle now gone from his eye, "If children are so consumed with material things, then they will be better off if Christmas just didn't come this year."

"What about Gifutoman?" Jangle asked.

"I'll take care of Gifutoman," Santa narrowed his eyes.

To be concluded . . .

The Year Santa Stole Christmas- Part 3

Gifutoman!
You are number one best!
Gifutoman!
Give us gifts!
It is now the Christmas time!
Peace on Earth and fighting crime!
Gifutoman!

Santa watched with horror as the Christmas special, Gifutoman Super Kurisumasu GX's theme song played on the television. "This is horrible! It's consumerism at its worst! This isn't what Christmas is supposed to be about at all!"

Jangle the elf mumbled, "You know, you're partly to blame, Santa."

"What? No! How?"

"Your focus on presents just made the children eager for more. And Gifutoman just gives out presents indiscriminately regardless of behavior. Can you really blame the children?"

To be continued . . .

The Year Santa Stole Christmas- Part 2

Gifutoman had taken the world by storm. Children everywhere had abandoned Santa Claus for the sleek new Japanese character that brought gifts to children on Christmas and then battled gigantic robotic dinosaurs from the future.

"Gifutoman Super Kurisumasu GX has completely replaced all of the classic Christmas standards: Rudolph, Frosty, Shrek the Halls," Jangle listed.

Santa pounded his plump fist on his desk, "Not Shrek the Halls!"

"Kids just love the anime Japanese stuff nowadays," Jangle said, "It was a matter of time."

"No!" Santa's cheeks reddened like roses . . . angry roses. "I refuse to be ousted by a cheap Japanese knock-off!"

To be continued . . .

The Year Santa Stole Christmas- Part 1

Jangle the elf approached the desk of his employer, the fat man himself, Santa Claus.

"Weren't you supposed to bring the mail?" Santa asked Jangle with a befuddled look.

"I did," with that Jangle handed Santa three envelopes, two of which were bills.

"What's this?" Santa gasped, "It's nearly Christmas and I only received one letter?" He quickly opened it and read it aloud: "'Dear Santa, I've already asked Gifutoman what I wanted for Christmas, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to cover my bases. I want a Red Ryder—' Gifutoman? What's a Gifutoman?"

"The Japanese version of you," Jangle explained.

To be continued . . .

One Sentence Story Collection XIII

As Cassie awoke from her eighteen month space journey in hyper-stasis, she realized she had forgotten to pack underwear.

She swore by the healing power of formaldehyde, just not for very long.

Calvin set up the bear-tra— err... Santa-containment-unit beside the milk and cookies.

After a long day, he finally fell asleep.

Snowie the Snowman

"Rats!" Jose grumbled. Hats, gloves, scarves, coats, and all other sorts of clothing and accessories were strewn about the snow around him and his snowman.

"What are you doing?" Jose's mother rushed out of the house, "What's with all those clothes?"

"I'm trying to bring Snowie to life," Jose said matter of factly.

"Snowie?"

"The snowman."

"Where would you get an idea like that?"

"The song, Mom," Jose said, "Frosty was brought to by an old silk hat that ha latent magical properties. I figured that you and dad would have at least one magical item between the both of you."

Christmas Yet to Come

"Show me the shadows of a Christmas Yet to Come, Spirit," Scrooge cowered before the imposing ghost.

In an instant Ebenezer was standing in the midst of a large hall much like the London marketplaces, but enclosed. Scrooge turned to see two grown women fighting over a small children's toy. In the opposite direction a small child cried on the lap of a slob in a fake beard and stained clothing. Cheesy music played incessantly, echoing in Scrooge's throbbing brain.

"Spirit? Are these visions of what will be, or merely the shadows of what may be? Spirit? I can change! Spirit!"

Holly

"This might sound strange," Holly said in almost a whisper, "but I think I love you."

There was no reply.

"I mean," Holly stuttered finding her words, "I-I-I like you, and I think we could be good together." She attempted a smile.

Still no reply.

Holly regrouped her thoughts, "It's just that we've been—" She started over, "I think that—" She started over again, "Look! Just kiss me. I love you!" Holly closed her eyes and imagined loving lips pressed against hers.

But there were no lips. There was no reply. Nothing.

Holly sighed and turned away from the bathroom mirror.

Forgiveness

I asked for forgiveness, but nothing happened up there on that hill. Someone told me that they felt closer to God up on a mountain. I can't say I felt closer to anything. That's probably because my mind was still miles and miles away.

Miles and miles away she was living her life the best she could, despite my involvement in it. I tried to apologize, but it never seemed to be enough. So I left. Partly to give her respite, and partly to find abatement for my soul.

I keep pressing on. Somewhere there is forgiveness. Somehow I will forget.

December

A thick fog covers the ground like a blanket, and obscures the winter sun. Just above freezing, a light misty rain can be felt but not seen. The unusually still air amplifies echoes of footfalls on cold pavement.

A crow caws on an empty tree that looks like the withered hand of a hundred-fingered skeleton. The landscape that was only days ago brightly colored in the hues of autumn has now all turned to varying shades of gray. It feels like a scene from a movie. You should be at a funeral or delivering some bad news. It is but December.

Truer Words Were Never Spoken

"Ever think about foregoing this bachelor lifestyle we're living and settle down?" Brian always had a way of making a car ride awkward.

"I choose to live my life based on the philosophy of the great thinkers," Kevin said, "In the immortal words of Canadian rock group, Loverboy: 'You want a piece of my heart? You better start from the start.'"

"Where else would someone start?"

"Don't you understand? It's one of those things that are so obvious that no one thinks to actually start from the start."

"Actually, I think most people start from the start."

Kevin fumed, "Shut up."

Buzkashi

It's a mad dash for the carcass. Five teams altogether. Maybe six. Maybe four. No one is quite sure, not even the referee who is more concerned about not getting trampled underhoof.

They used to use a goat carcass thousands of years ago when the game was first conceived. Now they opt for the more sensible headless calf carcass. It does not fall apart nearly as fast.

One of the younger riders falls and is severely injured. His buzkashi dreams have faded.

"Better a poor rider on a good horse, than a good rider on a poor horse," the crowd chants.

The Song

How long had it been since I heard that song? Five, six years? Time seemed to blur together into one big amalgamation. Small insignificant things separated the memories in my mind.

When last I heard this song, it was sung to me. She had eyes you would lose yourself in. She had a smile that would light up even the darkest heart. I know, because she lit up mine. She sang to me, and the song went on for eternity. It was still in my head.

Why had I let her go? Scared maybe? Scared that too much might go right.

The Fedora

"Hey, check out my new fedora! Now I'm all like Indiana Jones!" Lenard bit his bottom lip in childish excitement.

"Uh, yeah," Paul said, "The 1930's called. They want their fashion sense back."

"What? No. This is cool," Lenard said with desperation, "I'm cool."

"Denial ain't just a river in Egypt, Lenny boy," Paul smirked. Lenard hated it when Paul smirked.

"You know what, Paul? You're nothing more than a big meanie-face."

Paul just laughed.

"This fedora is cool, and one day you'll regret making fun of me!"

Twenty years later Paul wrote a letter to Lenard. "I'm sorry," it began.

Dragon

Dragon sat upon a throne of leather. Smothered sunlight filtered into the underground bunker from above.

Dragon was one of the few living who knew the world before the fire rained down. His beard was long and white, and the winkles in his face were carved out like cracks in granite walls.

"A child," Dragon croaked, "A rare sight in this dark age." He took thunderous steps toward Mouse and examined her as one would examine an animal. "Good teeth," he muttered.

Mouse noticed his teeth were not, but was too afraid to speak. Dragon's breath was like death and flame.

Hal

It was still dark when Hal set off. He had packed lightly, because he had few possessions. Staff in hand, he left the home of his master, and took the main highway that led to the port city in the west, and then to lands beyond.

At the peak of the last hill that overlooked the village, Hal turned back one last time just as the sun made appearance. In his mind Kali ran up the road, beautiful as ever, illuminated by the sunrise. They embraced, and journeyed on together.

But she did not come, and Hal walked the highway alone.

Todd

Todd ran the scenario over and over again in his head. Each time he found himself tripping over his words, being asked something he could not answer, or just making a general fool out of himself. He came to the decision that the least foolish thing to do would be to do nothing at all (though, also a foolish action). At least in that case no one else would know.

"Todd?" Mindy asked.

Todd looked at Mindy, but kept his lips sealed.

"We're waiting."

"I'll just come back when you're ready to order," the waitress said.

Dodged a bullet, Todd thought.

Eric's Journey of Enlightenment: Fear

Evening fell, but neither stars nor moon could be seen for a thick blanket of clouds loomed overhead.

KA-KARACKADOOM!

Light split the veil of darkness for a moment revealing the silhouette of a man standing before me.

"What is your greatest fear?" he asked.

Rain poured from the heavens as if all the waters of the earth had been gathered directly over top of us, and emptied all at once.

"Speak, traveler," the man demanded over the roar of the falling rain.

"I fear," I paused a moment, "I fear you," I said.

The man smiled and the storm passed over.

On the Ark

They had been adrift on The Sea (since there only was one sea now) for four months. When all of the games of I Spy that could be played had been played, the Noah family was at a loss as to what to do next.

"It is so stuffy in here," complained Japheth, "and the animals sure aren't smelling better on their own. Who designs a boat with only one window anyhow?"

"God does," Noah said curtly.

"Oh. Right."

Shem asked ironically, "Are we there yet?"

Seven sandals struck Shem's face in unison.

"Go and clean the weasel cages," Noah said.

Truck

Truck was a big man as his namesake implied with an equally big heart. Most men dropped all pretenses of dignity in the age after the bombs fell. To Truck that made them no better than the animals they named themselves after.

Truck had taken Mouse in as his own daughter after her parents died. He had not told her how it happened. Now he never would.

"Be strong, Mouse," he often told her, "This world only understands strength."

Mouse desperately wished that Truck was there. He was always strong. He would know what to do.

"Be strong, my little Mouse."

Alice

The walls were closing in on Alice. It was an imperceptible closing in, not like how it's portrayed in action movies. The day before each of the walls was exactly twenty-three foot-lengths, and now each was twenty-one. Alice could just barely touch the ceiling, which was completely out of reach, before.

It had occurred to Alice that she might be growing in size as the room stayed the same. For the moment, she was not sure if it mattered which was really happening.

She banged on the locked door in vain.

The next day her palm pressed flat against the ceiling.

The Flood

"I spy with my little eye something blue," Shem's wife said as they peered out the window of the ark.

"Water," the rest replied in unison.

"I am so bored," said Ham, "Why doesn't Japheth play us another song?"

"Because the last string on my lyre broke two weeks ago," explained Japheth, "and dad won't let me gut any of the cats to make more."

"We need them to repopulate the earth later," called Noah from the other side of the ark.

"Does the restored world really need cats?" Ham asked, "Because I am really dying for a song right now."

Experimenting with Boredom

Nameless faces passed by in a blur across the computer monitor.

"No. No. No," Thomas said while counting his arm hairs mentally (He was up to four hundred fifty-eight).

"Are you even paying attention?" Sasha's voice reverbed inside the wall-mounted intercom. "This experiment is half my grade, Tom."

"Yeah, that's great, Sash. No. No."

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Four hundred sixty-seven."

"What?"

"Oops. Sorry. Didn't mean to say that out loud."

Sasha opened the door into Thomas's room, "You're supposed to be watching the monitor!"

"I am!" said Thomas. "Oh, that's just wonderful."

"What?"

"You made me lose count!"

Possum

Skunk, known for his pungent smell, was a constant thorn in Dragon's side, so it was a relief when the report came that he had been killed during a water skirmish.

However, Skunk reappeared two months later like a phoenix from the ashes, and he was known as Phoenix until he was killed again. He reappeared three days later this time, prompting the comment that he had nine lives like a cat. Cat became his moniker until returning from the dead a tenth time.

After that he was Possum, because he must have faked his deaths; also he still smelled bad.

The Land of Giants

Kylee deftly navigated the forest of legs. Giants moved carelessly about discussing the intricacies of measuring heights, or the trouble with cumulonimbus clouds, or whatever it is that giants discuss at dinner parties, oblivious to the runt scurrying about their feet.

She had been whisked off to the land of giants in the middle of the night. A witch, jealous of Kylee's beauty (or some other equally feckless reason), banished her to this accursed place.

The giants were not mean (as the storybooks make them), just indifferent to little people. Loaf-sized crumbs fell to the floor. At least she wouldn't starve.

Black Friday

Shoppers stand in huge lines in the middle of the night in the middle of the winter. Still three hours till opening time and they're twisted around the building and down the street. Newly arriving shoppers try to convince themselves there will still be one more plasma TV by the time they get inside.

Thirty minutes to go. The crowd grows anxious. Talk of assaulting the store disseminates among the crowd. Cooler heads prevail for now.

The doors open. The stampede begins.

Five injured. One trampled to death. Better than last year.

It was worth it, because you saved twenty bucks.

Thanksgetting Day

The Galactic Federation President's mansion, known as the White Dwarf House, was filled with boys and girls and yerlaks of all ages waiting for the annual pardoning of the turkey.

President Lovenstein stood austere in front of the young exuberant crowd as the soon-to-be pardonee was marched out in chains.

Kemal Atatürk, giant space-turkey of the Gamma Gobble Gobble Star System, had been convicted with twenty-three counts of murder and was sitting on Space-Death Row.

"On Thanksgetting Day," Lovenstein said, "where we reflect on how thankful we are for all the things we get, we release a mass-murderer for some reason."

~~~
More stories concerning Galactic Federation Politics

Incompetent

"I am surrounded by incompetents!" the bad guy yelled as the hero thwarted yet another trap and slaughtered another fifty henchmen. "You are all so incompetent—Someone get me a thesaurus!"

"I don't think we have any reference books here," one of the henchman whispered.

"Incompetence!" the bad guy said again.

"I have a pocket dictionary," another henchman offered, "it includes some synonyms."

The bad guy straightened up, "I want you all to notice Henchman Number—"

"Thirty-seven."

"—Thirty-seven. He is very un- . . . incompetent," the bad guy flipped open the dictionary, "'Amateur!' That's a good one. You guys are amateur . . . and incompetent."

Fowler Family

The usual chitchat of the Fowler family dinner table was underway. Father Fowler had gone on for most of the meal talking of office politics and business meetings. Mother Fowler had interjected the discussion throughout with questions of the Fowler children's school day to which the most detailed answer was, "It was okay."

Susie Fowler, the youngest Fowler, spoke up, "Whatever happened to Corey?"

Silence settled over the dinner table like a thick fog.

"Susie," Mother Fowler said in a hushed shrill, "we don't speak of Corey anymore, especially in front of Grandma." She motioned to the urn on the mantle.

Is This the End for Lead Man?!

Continued from "Super Sick."
~~~

"Give it to me straight, Doc," Antony Chumbo had been suffering from chronic headaches and stomach pains.

"It's lead poisoning," Doctor Salsa, medical practitioner to the superheroes, said.

"How can that be?!"

"Are you kidding me? You're Lead Man! You run around in a lead suit and you're surprised it's lead poisoning?"

Antony looked straight at Doctor Salsa, "Does this mean I'll have to stop being Lead Man?"

"If you don't you're going to end up like one of those other ill-fated superheroes: the Toxic Revenger, the Mercury Surfer, Asbestos-Boy . . ." Doctor Salsa trailed off, "Poor Asbestos-Boy. He never had a chance . . ."

~~~
More adventures of the Impregnable Lead Man

Eric's Journey of Enlightenment: Spirit Guide

"You are meant for great things," said a voice in the desert on the seventh day of my meditation.

"What are you?" I asked.

"Your spirit guide," it explained.

"No, I mean, what are you?"

"I-I'm a tapir," Tapir the spirit guide said.

"What's a tapir?"

"A South American mammal."

I stared blankly.

"Look," said Tapir, "Are we going on this journey of spiritual enlightenment or not?"

"I think I'll wait for a better animal," I said.

"Whatever!" Tapir disappeared into the desert night.

"I don't believe I'm suited to this environment," Manatee said flopping in the sand the next day.

Mouse

Mouse trekked across the barren wasteland for days. Her tongue hadn't touched water in two days. Her stomach had been without food so long she forgot what it felt like not to be starving.

A plume of dust billowed up out of the horizon. Soon, Mouse found herself surrounded by a convoy of motorcycles helmed by chiseled men in strategically-arranged leather straps and grimy football pads with spikes glued on more for looks than for any defensive advantage.

"Where you headed, little girl?" said the leader.

Mouse said nothing.

"Take her to Dragon," said another biker, "He'll make use of her."

Super Sick

"Oh-hoh-hoh-hoh! Le French Stereotype strikes again!" Le French Stereotype announced after transmogrifying the entirety of St. Louis's food supply into frog legs and es cargo. "And there's no one who can stop moi!"

"Not so fast!" came a voice that echoed as if inside an empty soup can, and then a heavy metal fist collided with the side of Le French Stereotype's face.

Le French Stereotype was unfazed, "You are too late Lead Man! I have already—"

"Time out!"

"Time out? There is non time outs!"

"Time out! I don't feel so good." Lead Man's toppled over with a tremendous CLANG!

To be continued . . .

~~~
More adventures of the Impregnable Lead Man

Kiss the Cook

"I made you a special dish this evening, honey," Sara called from the kitchen.

"It better be edible this time," Tony quipped.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Sara popped her smiling head into the dining room, "Le Cuisine called it a 'delight to the senses.'"

"Le Cuisine? Is that a cooking magazine."

"Only the best," Sara handed it to her husband.

"This isn't a magazine. This is lined paper stapled together . . . Wide ruled if I'm not mistaken. Is this some kind of joke? Did you make this?"

"Read it!"

"'Next time don't criticize the—'"

Sara dumped spaghetti sauce on Tony's head.

Saul's Tirade

King Saul hurled a spear at his son.

"You let David get away?" Saul roared.

"He does not oppose you, father," Jonathan insisted.

"Lies! You hear the songs the maidens sing? They barely even mention my name. I'm the king, not that . . . shepherd!" The word tasted foul as it slogged out of his mouth.

"You cannot fight the will of God. Samuel said—"

"I am the one who united the tribes of Israel under one crown! No prophet, no giant-slayer, no deity known to men will ever strip me of my kingdom!"

The palace guards scoured the grounds for a harp.

Kelly

"You just don't understand!" Kelly punctuated her statement with a slamming door.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with that girl, Phil," Betsy shook her head, "Do you remember when she used to think the world of us, back when she was little?"

"It's a phase," Phil said, "We were like this when we were teenagers."

"I just remember when she would used to look up at me, and she had so much happiness in her eyes. Now all I can see in her eyes is anger."

Phil embraced his wife, "It will work out in time. You'll see."

Did He Ever Know Love?

He had been in love, or at least he thought he had been. Now all he knows is that he's never known love.

So many things change over the years. He doesn't want to be one of the cynical ones, say that love doesn't exist. But how can he be sure with the mass commercialization of 'love' all around him?

"It was that two-humped heart!" he cries out. "Why did I think that was love?"

Don't be fooled by cheap corporate imitations of love. Choose the unihump heart to express your love today.

Paid for by the Unihump Heart Awareness Council

~~~
Click here to learn more about the cherished symbol of love: The Unihump Heart

Eric's Journey of Enlightenment: Ask a President

"What is the secret to success?" I asked the President of the United States.

"How did you get in here?" he asked.

"It's not important," I said, "but I need to know the secret to success, and any other wisdom you might be willing to bequeath to me."

"No," the president corrected me, "it is quite important. See, you're not supposed to be able to get into my bedroom at three in the morning."

"Look," I said fairly irritated, "I don't have time for your politically correct non-answers. I'm on a journey for enlightenment and—"

That's when Secret Service tased me.

Accusations in Space

"The Galactic Federation is doomed, people!" said Ben Gleck, opinion show host on FAUX News, "Or it will be, if President Lovenstein gets his way. Why is Lovenstein not answering the people (and by the people, I mean me)? He won't respond to allegations that he's a child-murderer! Is he a child-murderer? I don't know. I do know that he hasn't not said he's not a child-murderer!" Ben began to choke up, "You see these tears? You see how much I care? No ulterior motive here! Just old fashioned patriotism. Show your patriotism by buying my new book (only 29.95 space-dollars)!"

~~~
More stories concerning Galactic Federation Politics

Denny

It had never been hard for Denny to get through life. He just yelled and screamed and pouted until he got his way. It served him well since he had been two years old. There had always been someone willing to give in.

Then one day, Denny's last friend in the world finally was fed up and left him. For the first time in his long life, Denny was utterly alone. He threw a tantrum to the heavens, but no one answered.

Moral: In the end, if no love is given out, then eventually there will be nothing left to receive.

Reclaiming the Past

"Hey, remember a few years back when you told me I should jump off a cliff?" Taylor asked at the breakfast table. "Well, I thought of a comeback."

"What? I never said anything like that," Jessica said, "I like you."

"Well, you said it in jest," Taylor admitted

"I really don't remember ever saying that," Jessica pondered, "It's funny how many things we completely forget ever doing. Can we actually say we are who we were, if it bears so little on us that we don't even remember?" Jessica left the table deep in thought.

". . . No, you jump off a cliff . . ."

Lost in Thought

My coffee had long since gone ice cold, and the baristas were locking up. I sat outside at a table for two. The second seat remained empty.

How long had I been waiting?

The sun had set, and street lights had automatically turned on. I took a sip of my frosty brew somehow thinking it would suddenly be warm.

Had I even been waiting for anyone?

My thoughts were jumbled, hard to define like figures in a dense fog. A figure walks out of the fog and into the light. Perhaps she knows why I'm here.

She sits down beside me.

Intervention

"Look Jeff, we're worried about you," Jeff's mother said. All of Jeff's friends and family had gathered in his apartment somehow, even his sickly great-grandmother that lived in Florida. "Even Nana is here for you."

"I don't have a problem!" Jeff exclaimed.

"What your mother is trying to say is," Jeff's father attempted, "well, look at you, son! You're eating cereal from the lid of an Applebee's Carside To Go take-out container. I mean, I could understand reusing the bottom part—"

Jeff shrugged, "I used it yesterday."

"Just use your dishwasher, Jeff. That's all we're asking."

"I'll do what I want!"

Closing Time

"I would tell you that you're pretty," Harry tells the imaginary woman sitting next to him as he nurses his seventh whiskey, "but I'm sure that you get that a lot."

Blunt Destination, a cover band of some band that hasn't been popular since 2003 and nobody remembers anymore, packs up after a successful night: Only three beer bottles were thrown at them.

"Look," Harry says, "if you don't want to talk to me, at least tell me you don't want to talk to me."

The bartender laces the eighth whiskey with more hallucinogens. Entertainment is lacking on a slow night.

Eric's Journey of Enlightenment: Never Trust a Bear

I came into town with scars across my chest, wearing a bear-skin coat still dripping with blood.

I had traveled into a remote part of the Rocky Mountains, where I could contemplate the meaning of life free from the shackles of human interaction and responsibility.

It was there that I also befriended a bear. I named him Ben. I know it wasn't terribly original, but I thought it was funny in an ironic sort of way.

It was nearly too late before I realized Ben's real intentions toward me. Only one of us was going to come down that mountain alive.

Everyone Has a Story

Laura was a thoughtful blogger. She did not use provocative language to make a point. Instead she diplomatically and sensibly approached every subject, making sure to be as unbiased and fair-minded as she possibly could. Needless to say, it got her nowhere on the internet.

Jake was a karate black belt with an anger management problem, and thirty-seven assault charges to back it up.

Fran was a mother of two stuck in a loveless marriage. Some of her dreams hadn't quite turned out as she had wished them to be.

They all sat on the bus saying nothing to each other.

Analogies

If you ever had a problem, Fred was always there, and he had an analogy for whatever situation you found yourself in. The problem was that none of his analogies ever made sense.

"Sorry to hear about you and Rachel," he said one time, "You just need to take all the bad things in your relationship and pick those out of your wallet like they're old fast food receipts. Then take the good things, those are gold coins, and put 'em in your pocket. Watch out for the leprechaun, though. He'll take your coins and tell you to get over it."

Josh

"The problem with people is that they hurt you," Josh said with definitive assurance, "so all I have to do is just get away from everyone. I'll just be a hermit living up in the mountains, so that nothing can hurt me."

"What about a big boulder?" asked Kylee, "Or a cougar?"

"I'm serious," said Josh, "kinda."

"Me, too," said Kylee, "People may have the propensity to hurt, but they also have the ability to help us when we're in need, to love us."

Josh thought a moment, "If only love came without pain."

Kylee was too embarrassed to profess hers.

Life Is So Unfair

Yarvis shackled himself to a ball and chain. "Hey! Hey! You can't do that!" He called out to some man walking by on the sidewalk.

The man stopped (his name was Paul), "Are you speaking to me?"

"Yeah," Yarvis said, "You can't be walking around like that without a ball and chain. You have an unfair advantage over me. How can I hope to compete?"

"But you shackled yourself," Paul said, "and why does it matter? I'm just walking down the street. It's not a competition."

"Everything's a competition!" Yarvis heaved his ball and chain along, "Hey! Don't walk away! Cheater!"

The Case of the Magician

"What are we doing out here, Shamrock?" I asked.

"Edward Hilton is the most astounding magician that I have ever known," my zombie friend said, "If anyone can cure me of my current condition, it is this man."

A small malnourished man opened the door after unlocking three bolts, "Why 'ello, Shamrock! It's been a while!" Edward took hold of Shamrock's hand and shook it off. "A really long while," Edward mused.

"You dabble in the dark magical arts then, Edward?" I asked.

"Card tricks," he admitted.

"What?" I stammered.

"Oh, but Walton, they're very good card tricks!" Shamrock assured me.

~~~
More cases from the files of Shamrock O'Malley

November

There were more leaves spread across the ground than were actually still clinging to the trees. The vibrant colors of yellow, orange, and red seemed to warm up the atmosphere despite the dropping temperatures. A flock of geese made their way south, announcing their presence to all below.

I sat outside a corner coffee store, holding the warm cup between both my hands. I sipped lightly, as I gazed at the scene about me.

Winter had come and gone last year, though at the time it seemed as if it would never be over. How quickly now did winter come again.

Why Let Governor Sanford Have All the Fun?

"Senator Evans from Pennsylvania is recognized."

"Thank you, Mr. President. I have had a long and celebrated career serving the people of Pennsylvania, but I would be remiss if I did not address the grievous injustice I have been forced to deal with for its entirety. I ask you: Where are my beautiful South American mistresses? Too long have I been forced to live a strictly monogamous lifestyle. I'm a politician for goodness sake! That is why I implore you to support S2577: Introduce Senator Evans to a Smoking Hot Babe (But Nobody Tell Mrs. Evans) Act of 2009. Thank you."

~~~
More proposals by Senator Evans of Pennsylvania

Trick-or-Treat

"Trick-or-Treat!" the neighborhood kids said in anxious expectation.

"Gadzooks! Tiny accursed fiends from beyond the grave threatening me with malicious tomfoolery!" cried Sir Gregory (knight from the past somehow now in the present day). He drew his sword, "Away foul hellion! I shall not fall prey to your subterfuge!"

The children scattered as Sir Gregory swung madly.

"No, Sir Gregory!" Timothy ran to the door. "They're just kids. Just give them candy."

Sir Gregory pondered, "So this 'candy' as you call it has exorcistical properties to drive the demons out of the youth? Quite marvelous inventions of the future!"

Timothy sighed.

~~~
Other adventures of Sir Gregory of Cornwall in the present-day

Lytton's Bad Habit

The large black bag fell to the floor with a heavy KA-THUMP!

"There's another one for you," Lytton said with the indifference of a postal worker looking at a line of innumerable customers three minutes to quitting time.

Gilroy sighed and flung the bag over his shoulder, "Seventh this week."

"I can't help it," Lytton confessed, "It's their fault for tempting me!"

"Except they just breathe, and you're overcome by temptation."

"That's not true! You're breathing and I've only tried," Lytton counted on his fingers, "four times with you."

"Five."

"Just bury it, and stop judging me!" Lytton left the cemetery.

Really Scary Story

"Okay, I got one," Dane was about to participate in a well-honored tradition among children: telling a scary story while holding a flashlight under your face. "One dark and scary night, there was this kid—"

"Heard it!"

"Shut up, Kevin!"

Dane continued, "There was this kid who wanted to get on the internet but he couldn't."

The huddled group of kids fell silent in terror.

"The internet . . . was down!"

All the children screamed.

"Then he checked his phone. It was dead, and he had misplaced his charger!"

"But how did he check his text messages?" Sandy asked.

"He didn't!"

More screams.

Fleshed Out

The devastated urban landscape slowly fell apart. Like most of the inhabitants of earth, the structures of civilization were also slowly decomposing and devouring themselves until eventually it would be gone.

However, nature also has its unexpected quirks. While most of humanity had become mindless flesh-eating zombies, one zombie still maintained his self-awareness. His name was George.

"I think I've lost the taste for rotting flesh," George told his zombie-dog Frank (Frank was not self-aware). "I really don't care for it anymore, and sometimes I think I'm just gorging on human flesh to fit in, you know?"

Frank's tail wagged off.

~~~
More ordeals of George the self-aware zombie

The Return of the Vam-Bot-Pire

The evening fog pours into the room from the now open window. A figure enters, cold and mechanical.

The cold night air jolts Katherine awake. Seeing the boxy mechanical man in a black cape standing over her, she reaches for the stake on her nightstand and jams it into the beast's chest, but to no avail.

"I AM IMPERVIOUS TO STAKES, GARLIC, SUNLIGHT," the vam-bot-pire states, "TRULY, I AM THE PERFECT MONSTER."

Thinking quickly Katherine grabs a pitcher of water, also on her nightstand, and casts it onto the creature.

"WATER! MY ONE WEAKNESS! ALSO COMPUTER VIRUSES!" The vam-bot-pire shorts out.

Career Advice

"You could learn a thing or two from me, Anderson," Mr. McCaughey said.

"Yessir," Anderson squeaked.

"First thing: Don’t talk while I'm talking."

"Yes—" Anderson caught himself.

"You don't make it to the top without cracking a few eggs, Anderson." Mr. McCaughey paused. "Did you hear me? How can I know you're listening if you don’t say something?"

"Yessir. Crack some eggs, sir."

"Don't interrupt me, Anderson. Now, what I mean, of course, is destroy a few people's careers. It's a lot easier to move up the ranks when you decimate the competition."

"But isn't that unethical, sir?"

Mr. McCaughey laughed.

We Jumped

The first step is the biggest step, or so they say. I stood on the precipice of a grand adventure both figuratively and literally.

Only two minutes before I had been living a relatively boring and safe (I must stress "safe") life, then she raced into my hotel room, gunshots roaring behind her. She grabbed my hand and before I even had time to think we were on the side of the hotel looking seven stories down.

She was still holding my hand. "Trust me," she said.

Men in black knocked the door in and filed into my room.

We jumped.

Still a Monster

Continued from "The Candyman" and "Cheering Up a Sulking Sulk."
~~~

Ever since his overdose on nuclear-infused anti-depressants, Doctor Bobby Bippus became the crazed bipolar monster known as the Incredible Sulk. With every change of mood came a change of color and devastating powers.

The Sulk turned a new hue never before seen: Yellow.

"FOR FIRST TIME SULK FEEL HAPPY!"

"Success!" cried General Oppenheimer. "Good work, Candyman."

"I can wrap rainbows in a sigh," said the Candyman.

Oppenheimer sighed, "I know! I know!"

"SULK SO HAPPY!" and with a flick of his wrist, the Sulk flipped over a city bus. "SO HAPPY!"

Oppenheimer slapped the Candyman upside the head, "This isn't better!"

~~~
More adventures of the Incredible Sulk

Cheering Up a Sulking Sulk

Continued from "The Candyman."
~~~

The Incredible Sulk smashed two cars together and then let out a heavyhearted sigh, "SULK FEEL LIKE SULK SMASH THINGS JUST BECAUSE THINGS THERE AND SMASHABLE." He was beginning to turn a hue of blue to reflect his changing mood.

"I know what can cheer you up," said a man who seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

"WHAT DOES CREEPY MUSTACHE MAN HAVE THAT CHEER SULK UP?"

"I take tomorrow, dip it in a dream, separate the sorrow, and collect up all the cream!"

The Sulk stood silent for a moment, "WHAT?"

"I'm the Candyman," the Candyman grumbled.

"CANDY?! SULK LOVE CANDY!"

To be continued . . .

~~~
More adventures of the Incredible Sulk

The Candyman

"We've tried taking out the Sulk with bombs and bullets, then we tried psychiatry, but that didn't work," General Oppenheimer explained to the gathering of military officials, "so now we've decided to kill the beast . . . with kindness! Say hello to the Candyman."

A good-natured man with a perpetual smile and creepy mustache approached, "Good evening, officers. Anyone care for a lollipop?"

Three hands rose.

General Oppenheimer continued, "He can take a sunrise, sprinkle it in dew, cover it in chocolate and a miracle or two."

"Who can?"

"The Candyman can. He mixes it with love and makes the world taste good."

To be continued . . .

~~~

More adventures of the Incredible Sulk

Heart Problems

"Tina is still there," Hank said, "lingering in the crevices of my heart."

"That's plaque," Hank's doctor said.

"You don't understand, Doc," Hank explained, "Even though she's gone, I'm still in love with her."

"No, you don't understand. We're talking about significant blockage here."

"I can still feel her clutching onto my left hand, my whole left arm, actually."

"That's angina. You're having a heart attack."

"You're finally understanding, Doc! She's attacking my heart. It's so powerful I can hardly breathe. I think I may faint." And that's exactly what Hank did.

A quadruple bypass later Tina stopped ailing Hank's heart.

Changing a Light Bulb

"Ouch! Sarah? Can you come in here?"

"What's the matter, Henry?"

"I'm trying to change this light bulb," Henry explained, "but every time I try to unscrew it, it burns my hands."

"That's strange, maybe I can—Ow! Did you try waiting for it to cool down?"

"I've been waiting for a couple hours now. It's still hot!"

"Let's get Bill in here. He'll know what to do."

"Are you serious?" Bill asked once he had arrived.

Henry and Sarah nodded.

"The light bulb is ON! Why do you even need to change it?!"

"Oooooooooh!" Henry and Sarah said in unison.

Traveling Salesman

The doormat read "UNWECLOME." It was obviously hand-woven judging by the quality of materials and the obvious misspelling.

The traveling salesman gig hadn't worked out too well for Joe. He sighed as he knocked on the door.

"No solicitors!" came a muffled yell from behind the door.

"May I speak with the man of the house?" Joe said.

"I said, no solicitors!"

"If I may have a moment of your time, sir, I think you would be interested in this commemorative encyclopedia set. You know the things that have become obsolete since the internet?"

"I despise the internet! I'll take twelve!"

Turning Eighteen

It started as a glimmer, but quickly grew into a bright light that filled the room. Then suddenly, POOF! A fairy not unlike a Disney representation appeared in Nathan's room.

"I am the Adulthood Fairy. You turn eighteen years old at midnight, and I must sprinkle Magic Responsibility Dust on you," she said.

"Why?" Nathan asked.

"It's an arbitrary system of trustworthiness," the fairy explained, "One minute you're not old enough to buy tobacco products, and the next you are."

"But I don't smoke."

"You can also now buy canned air and NyQuil. Eighteen is a big responsibility!"

"Wonderful," Nathan sighed.

Fortune

Fortune did not smile upon poor Fortune who had the unfortunate fate of having been named Fortune.

Fortune's parents had figured that they were not very likely to amass a fortune in terms of wealth or power, so they settled for the next best thing: They would have a fortune of mirth at the misfortune of their son Fortune.

Fortune seldom comes twice in life, so Fortune's fortune unfortunately was his name, Fortune. He had nothing to his name, which everyone found hilariously ironic except for Fortune himself.

Fortunes come and fortunes go, and so too was the fate of Fortune.

Makes Sense to a Teenager

The clock radio reads 10:22 as Jake turns on to Summerset Drive. Rachel lives on the sixth house on the right.

Jake inserts a homemade CD into the player, turns up the volume, and rolls down the power windows. Despite the fact the sun has long ago set, he dons his sunglasses. He slowly creeps along the suburban street, car blasting a song of teenage rebellion and immature love. If this wouldn't impress Rachel, then nothing would.

In his mind she runs out of the house and professes her hidden affection for him. In reality an angry neighbor curses him out.

Climate Change

Behold my works, for I am man. I am the master of the earth and skies, for I have proclaimed it. Behold my power and tremble.

I push upon the glacier, and it moves slowly across the continent. I am responsible.

With my lungs I blow winds into the sky and produce the mighty hurricanes. I am responsible.

I rub my hands together and produce heat. Ten thousand miles away the Antarctic shelf collapses. I am responsible.

I pay someone else to do the opposite of what I do. My guilt is assuaged. I remain the God of my own mind.

My Autobiography

"Eric, you are such a great guy," she says.

"Do you really mean it?" I ask.

"Not anymore!" she yells. "Why are you always like this? Why can't you just be confident enough to accept what I tell you?"

"My previous experiences with women have taught me that even though they say I'm a great guy, they dump me at the first moment of weakness," I try to explain.

"Just shut up!" she turns and walks away.

I learn to live without her approval, regain my confidence, and meet someone else.

Return to the beginning of the story and repeat. Forever.

Fwd:WOMEN IN CHINA DO NOT GET BREAST CANCER - PLEASE READ

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Love Poem First Draft

Roses are red,
Or sometimes white.
In fact I think I've seen them
In many colors despite
The fact that the most traditional variation of rose is depicted as red.
But with that being said,
Let me get on with this poem instead.
Now, what was I talking about?

Roses are red.
Violets are blue,
Though that seems silly to me.
How about you?
Violets should be violet.
At least that's what I think.
But where was I? Oh, yes!

Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Daisies are yellow.
How 'bout a smooch?

Brian grumbled and held down the backspace button.

~~~
Brian's attempt at poetry from "Writing Is Hard"

One Sentence Story Collection XII

He didn't know the meaning of the word "defeat" because it wasn't in his dictionary: Learn My ABC's.

The cereal box read 'fortified with iron,' so it should not have come as a surprise that it destroyed Timothy's teeth.

From the bowels of the earth spewed forth thousands upon thousands of gentle green grasses.

The story was only one sentence and left a bitter feeling of lachrymosity and suicidal despondency (as all the rest).

Wishful Awarding

"The Space-Nobel Committee, named after Alfred Space-Nobel, inventor of the hyper-death-stick, has named this standard star-orbit-revolution-unit's winner of the Space-Nobel Peace Prize," said news-alien B'jnktl, "and it's Galactic Federation President Vithor Lovenstein. We turn to Snorri Sturluson, chair of the Space-Nobel Committee."

"Thunk yuoo fur hefeeng me-a."

"Mr. Sturluson, by every measure, President Lovenstein has yet to have any meaningful impact on anything."

"Ve-a everded Lufensteeen fur hees ixtreurdeenery iffffurts to strengzeen intergelecteec deeplumecy und cuupereshun betveen peuples."

"Even though there has been no substantive change between his policies and his predecessor, Google-Bronx?"

"Thet's reeght. He-a joost mekes us feel guud."

~~~
More stories concerning Galactic Federation Politics

Writing Is Hard

"What are you doing up?" Jack rubbed his eyes.

"Just trying the get some writing done," Brian did not look up from his laptop.

"Oh? I didn't know you wrote stuff."

"I didn't," Brian said, "Not until now, anyway."

Jack sat down and rubbed his eyes again, "Sorry, I'm still a little groggy. You just started writing?"

"I met someone," Brian finally looked up from his computer, "Oh, you should see her, Jack. She's so beautiful and smart and funny and—she's just amazing."

"Please don't tell me—"

"I'm writing a poem for her!"

Jack groaned.

"I'm stuck at: 'Roses are.'"

Jeremy and Hannah

"What's your problem, Jeremy?" Hannah says with ever-increasing exasperation.

"I just feel like I'm trapped," Jeremy says, "I have no way out, you know? No. You wouldn't know. You never know."

"That's because you never give me a chance," Hannah's eyes well up on queue.

"Oh, don't you try to trap me, too!" Jeremy yells. "I need an advocate right now, and you are so not being my advocate right now."

Hannah tries to get a word in, but Jeremy continues.

"Helpmeet! You're supposed to be a helpmeet! Helpmeet? That's a word, right? I'm pretty sure it's a word. Helpmeet. Helpmeet?"

Cory

Cory plopped his face into the bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats before him and left it there. About fifteen seconds later air bubbles popped the surface of the milk.

"Oh, stop it, Cory!" his mother said with a disapproving sigh.

"Bla bloob bwab wab," said from his cereal.

"What?"

Cory lifted his head. Two soggy wheat biscuits with light frosting hung from his face as a stream of milk trickled from his chin. "I said, 'I need more sleep.'"

"Well you should have thought of that before you neglected your Science Fair project until the day before it was due."

Cory whimpered.

The Case of the Gypsy Amulet

I draped my overcoat over my zombified friend, Shamrock O'Malley, and we quickly stole away to my residence, stopping only twice to recover various pieces that fell away from his rotting frame.

"It occurs to me," he said after we had reclined in my study (and I had draped a towel over his chair), "my resurrection stems from a magical amulet that I won off a gypsy woman in a game of chance."

"So we find the gypsy to restore your flesh anew," I said.

"That's absurd, Walton! No, we need something more potent than an itinerant gypsy magic for this!"

~~~
More cases from the files of Shamrock O'Malley

The Superhero Registration Bureau

"Name?"

"Tamia Sciurus."

"I meant your superhero name."

"Oh, sorry. It's my first time to the Superhero Registration Bureau."

"Obviously."

"I'm the Flying Squirrel."

"So, you glide around with cloth between your arms and legs like those cute little flying squirrels?"

"No. I tried that, but there aren't a lot of updrafts in St. Louis to justify a gliding system. I use a jet pack now."

"So, let me get this straight: You dress up like a squirrel and use a jet pack to fly?"

"Is that too strange?"

"You kidding? That's the closest to normal that we've gotten all year!"

One Sentence Story Collection XI

Time had dulled the pain, but it still cut just as deep.

The floss only forced the wedged strawberry seed deeper into the gap between my molars.

The city slowly sprawled out like a spreading cancer across the landscape.

I saw your face in a photograph and spent the whole night wondering.

The Case of Zombie O'Malley

"I say, my dear Walton, what are you doing?"

The voice was familiar, though a bit more gravelly than I remembered. I turned around to find a half-decomposed Irishman whom I recognized as my deceased colleague, Shamrock O'Malley. "My goodness, what has happened to you, Shamrock?" I blurted out.

"Isn't it obvious, Walton? I have risen from the dead through unnatural (most likely magical) means."

"B-but that's impossible!"

"How long have you been with me, Walton, and you still don't—" Shamrock's jawbone detached from his skull. He sighed and reattached it, "Quite an inconvenience being of the living dead."

I shuddered.

~~~
More cases from the files of Shamrock O'Malley

Aerial Delusions

Frank nursed his last cigarette with care, took another look at the scene, and then shook his head.

"What do we got here—woah!" Anderson said as he crossed the police tape.

"His name was Charlie," Frank said taking another draw, "Twenty-seven years old. Had an unhealthy obsession with superheroes."

"That would explain the Superman costume. So he jumped?"

"Thought he could fly."

"When will these kids ever learn?"

"Not any time soon. These guys grow up not knowing what's real and what's not. I blame the liberals."

"Sad," Anderson shook his head, "Up for IHOP after this?"

"You know it!"

Existential Quandary

"What is our reason for being here?" Fred asked.

"Well," Lenora tapped her chin as she pondered an answer, "that's a good question. Many philosophers throughout the ages have attempted to answer that question. Is life simply a mistake and we have to define our own purpose in life, or are we the handiwork of some omnipotent being? Those are just two out of hundreds of possibilities. Men and women of great intellects have spent entire lives trying to answer that simple question."

"No. I meant: What is our reason for being here at the grocery store?"

"Oh. We need milk."

Too Much Thinking

He could not believe it. The time had finally come. He had prepared his whole adult life for this very moment, and now it was here. There were times when he doubted, when he did not really believe this time would ever come. Now he knew it was not all in vain. He congratulated himself on sticking with it all these years. This was going to be his finest moment.

Or it would have been his finest moment if he had not spent so much time thinking about the fact that the time had finally come. It slipped right by him.

Toni

The silence was so thick it laid itself out like the dust and grime of decades of neglect. The silence was so silent it was maddeningly deafening.

Finally, Toni broke.

"I can't take it any more!" she yelled and jumped out the window. Broken bits of glass, as well as Toni's body, rained down on the streets below.

Nancy cursed at the red light which refused to turn green, despite having been waiting at the light for well over 17 seconds. Her air bags deployed 62 milliseconds after Toni's body hit the hood of her car.

Elsewhere some music played absently.

The Expungicator

"But Mom, she said that if we don't follow her then we'll have to face a post-apocalyptic nightmare-ish world where I'm fighting robots for survival."

"It," said Julie.

"What?"

"It's a robot. It just looks like a she, but it's an it," Julie said in a stoic manner looking off into a random corner of the room, "and don't you forget it."

"But Mom," Harry seemed to start most all of his sentences with those two words these days, "I sent her—sorry, it—from the future back to help us."

"It's still an Expungicator and can't be trusted!"

"But Mom . . ."

~~~
More from Expungicator: The Julie Reid Chronicles

The Lone Rider

A lone rider came up from the east.

Farmer Territ hailed the rider, "I pray thee, good sir, what news from the city of Dunwynn?"

The rider wore dirty rags as clothing and cheeks were sunken in from malnutrition. "Dreadful tidings, my lord. Barbarians attacked from the north and have completely razed the city."

"What of the citizenry?"

"I do not know, my lord. I saw a great flame upon Dunwynn. I fear that I am one of only a few who escaped the wrath of Warlord Hazon."

Territ paced about, "My brother and his family lived in Dunwynn."

"My condolences."

Humdrum Jury

Judge Nelson banged his gavel. "Is this trial boring you?" he asked the jury.

Half the jury was in various stages of falling asleep. None was paying attention to the trial.

Judge Nelson motioned to the bailiff who pressed a small button on the wall which immediately sent an electric shock through the jury box. They were paying attention now.

"I can't imagine why you're not interested. The defendant's name is Axe-Murderin' Max for goodness sake."

"It was a childhood nickname, not a confession!" cried Max to which the judge shrugged.

Half the jury returned to their various stages of sleep.

Warzone

A barrage of explosions had dulled all sounds including their own into one low dull hum. From his foxhole Gene looked up to the pristine blue sky. For a moment he was home laying on the hill out back, looking up at the sky miles and years away from any battle or bloodshed. He focused on a cloud convinced that with enough concentration he would be transported back to that hill.

Sergeant O'Keefe's face blocked out the cloud. He yelled something, but the dull hum in Gene's ears continued.

The next moment, Gene woke up two weeks later in a hospital.

Too Many Superheroes Spoil the Save

"Help!" cried a woman tied to an overhanging pole several stories above the streets of St. Louis.

"Fear not, citizen!" came a cry from the rooftop. "Batboy is here to rescue you."

Suddenly, Lead Man flew up to the victim. "Do you acquire my assistance?"

"Lead Man?" Batboy yelled down, "Don't you dare! This is my win!"

"SULK SAVE WOMAN!" yelled Sulk from the streets below.

"I have jet boots," said Lead Man, "I can just help her right now."

"Don't you dare," Batboy yelled, "I'll save her . . . as soon as I figure out how to get down there."

"SULK HELP!"

~~~
More adventures of the St. Louis Superheroes!

(I Just) Died in Your Arms Tonight

"Here I am. Rock you like a hurricane," were the first words out of Dillon's mouth.

"Are you serious? Eighties song lyrics?" Chloe was not impressed.

Dillon shrugged, "Get outta my dreams. Get into my car!"

In desperation Chloe scrambled for the emergency revolver hidden in the desk drawer. If ever there was an emergency that demanded violence as the solution, this was it. The gun leapt into her hand and—

BANG!

"W-what have I done?" Chloe voice quivered in shock.

Dillon looked down at his bleeding wound, "Shot through the heart, and you're to blame. You give love a bad—"

BANG!

The Problem with Roommates

"Guys, seriously, keep it down. I'm trying to get some sleep," that was the third time Alex had come into the living room, "I have to go to work in the morning. Show a little courtesy, huh?"

"Well, we're trying to watch a movie, here," said James, "Why don't you show us some courtesy?" James high-fived Derrick.

"I am trying to courteous, but do you guys have to turn it up so loud? There's a bunch of explosions and people yelling at each other."

"We're just trying to view the movie as the director intended: Extremely loud. Do you mind!?"

"S-sorry."

American Health Insurance

"And your weight?"

"223 pounds," answered Chuck.

Alyson, the health insurance agent sucked in air from clenched teeth.

"What? Is that bad?"

"Well, it's not definitely good. Your height-weight ratio is off. We only insure healthy people. Insuring people who actually need health insurance doesn't cover the bottom line, you understand."

"Do you only insure professional athletes or something?"

The agent laughed, "We would never insure an athlete: too prone to injury. Anyway, there are several questions we still need to answer. Smoker?"

"No."

"Drink alcohol?"

"No."

"Does your body produce an excessive amount of earwax?"

"How much is 'excessive?'"

"Any."

One Sentence Story Collection X

I fell asleep to the sound of rain outside.

She stood at the pier waiting for his return, but his ship never returned.

Half the stores at the mall were shuttered and empty; the other half was halfway there.

I booed the boo-er, but it just sounded like I was agreeing with him.

The remains of the rose she gave me were pressed between the pages of a book I once had given her.

The Dragon and the Hippogriff

The dragon sat atop his treasure that he had accumulated over the years: gold, jewels, magical as well as non-magical armor and weapons, and priceless artifacts all in one huge pile lined with the charred remains of many a daring adventurer ill-prepared to fight the ancient fearsome beast.

His buddy the hippogriff came by to visit, "Yo! What up, Drags? Nice pile! Add to it recently?"

"Nah," the dragon replied, "I think for the first time in my life, I feel I have enough stuff."

The hippogriff started, "You be straight up trippin'!"

"I seriously don't understand you half the time."

Monty Python References

"Hey, Greg, what is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?"

"What do you mean, Paul? An African or a European swallow?"

"I don't know that!" At this point Greg and Paul burst into fits of uproarious laughter.

"Hey guys," said Abe who happened to be standing nearby, "what's so funny?"

Greg and Paul gasped in unison.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

"He doesn't know," said Greg.

"Of the quest for the Holy Grail," continued Paul.

"You guys are starting to freak me out," Abe began to back away.

"Ni!" cried Paul.

Greg echoed, "Ni!"

"Ni! Ni! Ni!"

Abe cried.

Kylee

Kylee reached out and touched the sky, which was a bright orange and had the viscosity of Jello. She brought her finger back to her mouth to taste it. Sky-y. She didn't know that was a flavor until now.

"This must be what it's like to be on drugs," she said to no one.

No One answered, "No. You've entered Dimension Q where our skies are orange and taste-able."

"So I'm not on drugs?"

No One laughed. "Oh my, yes, very much so."

Kylee began to whistle.

No One said nothing.

"Did you say something?" Kylee asked.

No One said, "Nothing."

Kali

Kali knew where to find Hal. He often spent evenings on Lookout Hill. She sat down next to him. He continued to gaze at the stars.

"Pretty, aren't they?" Kali asked.

"What? Oh, the stars. Yes. Yes they are."

Kali saw Hal deep in thought, but said nothing.

"I don't think I'll be here much longer," Hal said, "The village, I mean."

Kali held back tears. She had prayed this day would never come.

"Come with me, Kali."

Kali's heart pounded in her chest. "Yes! Yes!" it cried, but before it could reach her lips, her head intervened. "I—I can't."

A Psalm

I will praise the Lord in my tribulation,
For He has already saved me.

Where is the one who would do me harm?
He attacks with fists and guns.

He tells falsehoods against my name;
Let him tell his lies to God.

My body is broken; my name suffers.
Still will I call upon the Lord.

I pass through the flame as gold,
And I become strong.

I struggle in the cocoon of a moth,
And I learn to fly.

The winds and waves crash upon the tree,
But it stands the test of time.

I will praise the Lord in my tribulation,
For a home with Him is mine.

Jerrod

"You're not perfect, Jerrod," they had said, "We know it's hard to hear, but it's the truth. You should seek out some help."

A few weeks later Jerrod returned. "I have sought help, and I have improved, have I not?"

"You have," they said, "but the times you do well must be because of the help you sought. So in a way you haven't really improved at all."

Jerrod wished he had asked, "Why can't you just accept that I've improved because I sought help?"

"Then that would mean we'd have to change our opinion of you," was their imagined reply.

Josmar

"I had a revelation," Josmar said with righteous fervor, "from God." He spread out his fingers and raised his eyebrows as he said 'God' as if explaining a new concept to a three-year-old. "You know. The man upstairs? If he tells you something you do it."

"So let me get this straight," Secretary Garcia sighed, "God told you to hijack an airplane because that somehow would get you an audience with President Calderon to warn him about an earthquake?"

"Right."

"Did you consider you might just be crazy?"

Josmar sat silent for a moment. "I need to rethink my life."

"Si."

~~~
Based on a true story!

Before a Joint Session of Space-Congress

Galactic Federation President Vithor Lovenstein stood before the joint session of Space-Congress to make his case for Universal Health Care.

"I have provided a simple 1,265,777,879,632 step plan that guarantees health coverage for all Galactic Federation citizens (as well as certain sentient trees and large bushes). This plan will not cover illegal dimensional immigrants—"

"Liar!" yelled Space-Representative Yancy Gothman (Asteroidican-SX). "Liar! Liar! Pants on fire!"

"Look," Lovenstein rebutted, "My pants are clearly not on fire. You're the liar."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yes-huh!"

"I am rubber, you are super-space-adhesive! Whatever you say bounces off me and permanently adheres to your surface!"

Lovenstein growled.

~~~
More stories concerning Galactic Federation Politics

Yesterday

Autumn morn
Just the same
Could not see
What became

Carry out
Evil plan
Towers burst
Into sand

Lonely heart
Empty soul
Cannot feel
Anymore

Kindness said
Heartfelt sigh
Helping hand
Knowing cry

Eight years past
Still feels like
Yesterday
In my mind

If You Give a Rhinoceros a Cookie

If you give a rhinoceros a cookie, he's going to want all of your cookies. All of them. Rhinos don't mess around when it comes to cookies. You'll be all like, "Hey, those are my cookies!" But he'll be like, "I'm a rhino. What're you gonna do about it?" Then you'll be cookieless.

But it doesn't stop there. After the rhinoceros takes all your cookies, then he's going to take your milk. Again, all of it. The entire gallon. Then he'll burn down your house, because he happens to also be an arsonist.

As rhinoceroses go, you picked a nasty one.

Biblical Puns

The sermon (thankfully) started off relatively normal by Pastor Sciutto's standards. It was nice and simple: Noah's Ark.

"God told Noah to build an ark," with a wry smile crossed Pastor Sciutto's face as he opened his homily, "So Noah told his sons, 'Boys, go for wood!'"

Absolute silence followed.

"Get it? 'Go for' wood? The Bible said Noah built the ark out of gopher wood. Go for? Gopher? It's a pun. Anybody?"

One guy in the congregation coughed uncomfortably.

"Ahem," Pastor Sciutto shuffled his papers, "Anyway, you should really get saved."

This was going to be a long Sunday morning.

~~~
Other stories with Pastor Sciutto

Scott

Scott had stopped running his fingers through his hair altogether. He had convinced himself that that was the only reason he was losing any hair: the gentle brush of finger to scalp.

Combs and brushes were obviously forbidden as well.

It was never a big deal early in life. A hand through the hair might produce one or two stray strands every once in a while, but no longer. Now it would be as if his hand was wearing a wig, a wig of his own hair.

Certainly it would all stay on his head if it was never touched again.

Understanding

If I only understood the world in black and white,
Would the world pass me by?
If I only saw sole value in utility,
Would I even see at all?

Why does the world only judge the surface?
What good has that ever done?
Why is it so hard to see what really matters?
Why are we all so blind?

True profit adds to the soul and not the bank account.
True value cannot be expressed in numbers.
True change comes from the heart and not mere action.
True sight is seeing that which is unseen.

One Sentence Story Collection IX

In an instant of momentary negligence I had irreparably scarred my one true friend leading to his irreversible yet untimely demise.

Through all the doubt, and all the pain and misery, there was a glimmering hint of happiness just around the corner, so she stayed.

Just over the next hill lay green pasture, a cool breeze, and an unending blue sky.

Silent waters hide aberrant creatures in their murky deep, seen only by eyes not long left to see.

Toodles Strunk

"Eww! That man smells like cat puke and pee!" That was one of the more kind remarks Toodles Strunk, professional vagabond, had received that day. Then it happened.

"Heysh, buddysh, thissh issh mysh alleyshwaysh nowsh," Sherman Herman from under the bridge two blocks down said.

"Whazzat?"

"Yoursh hobosh licensesh issh revokedsh. Yoush gottash becomesh ash productivesh membersh ofsh shoshietysh. Comessh fromsh thesh kingsh himshelfsh." Sherman Herman presented a wadded up napkin to Toodles.

The thought of going legit frightened Toodles Strunk almost as much as the plastic bag gnomes that visited him every night. "Hubbadub," he muttered and left his alley.

Shaving Gel

"Look at this! Are they seriously trying to sell this stuff to men!?"

"What is it now, Matthew?" Meredith was a patient woman by any stretch of the imagination, and Matthew tested it every waking (and occasionally non-waking) moment.

"Look at these shaving gels: Hydrating. Sensitive! Extra Sensitive!?" with each successive 'flavor' of shaving gel, Matthew's voice grew in intensity. "Are there no shaving gels for MEN?"

Meredith sighed, "If it's such a big deal to be manly, why not just shave without a gel or cream?"

"Oh!" Matthew cringed and rubbed his face. "But that would hurt!"

Meredith sighed again.

The Unwitting Badgey Artist- Part 2

Continued from "The Unwitting Badgey Artist"
~~~

"I just drew a guy in a military uniform!" Brian continued to protest.

"I know," said Mary. "And you drew him with a badge. So you're a badgey artist."

"Look," Brian pinched his nose and groaned, "I don't know who decided to take something that has been around for hundreds, if not thousands, of years, and turn it into an internet fetish movement."

"Oh it's not a fetish!" Mary corrected, ". . . unless you're into that kind of thing. But those are all badgey territory now. If you like it then you're a badgey."

"So if I like World War II movies?"

"Badgey."

The Unwitting Badgey Artist

"Hey, Brian, I didn't know you drew," Mary said, "Can I see?"

"I guess. It's just a sketch."

Mary's eyes grew wide with excitement, "You're a badgey, too!"

"A what?"

"Oh come on! Don't tell me you don't know what a badgey is."

Brian's blank stare signified he didn't.

Mary continued, "You drew this guy with a badge. You like badges on stuff. You're a badgey. Simple as that!"

"First: The guy's wearing a military uniform. Of course it'll have badges on it! Second: You just assume cause I drew a badge that I'm part of some weird internet movement?"

"Duh!"

Badgemonium

"Welcome to BADGEMONIUM, a weekly podcast dedicated to the badgey-fandom: the only podcast you need for all things wearing badges. The more the better! I'm Sergeant_at_Arms57."

"And I'm Frillybadge! There's a lot going on in the badgey community this week including a new badgey artist on deviantART, and we'll get to that in just a moment, but first we have a caller."

"Yeah. You guys dressing up like badges and doing freaky stuff is disgusting. Pervs!"

"Let me stop you right there, caller. You're referring to 'badge-suiters.' We're 'badgies.' We like badges on things, not dressing as badges. That's just disturbing."

Amelia

"Stop looking to the sky, Amelia. Your head shouldn't be up in the clouds."

"One day I am going to fly," Amelia whispered, but loud enough to be heard.

"Don't be silly," her father said, "It's not in a penguin's nature to fly. We swim."

"But are we not birds?" Amelia quipped back. "It seems that maybe we just don't try hard enough, or we don't dream big enough. Is all life just swimming and eating fish?"

Amelia's father was visibly confused, "What more could there be than swimming and eating fish?"

Amelia sighed, "I will fly one day. You'll see."

Confidence

"I just don't know, Helen. I'm finally going on a date with Rachel, and I'm just a bunch of nerves," Edward said. "Look at my hands. Look at them! They're totally drenched in sweat!"

"Calm down, Ed," said Helen straightening Edward's tie, "and stand still! Everything will be fine."

Edward furiously wiped his hands on his shirt. "I think—I think they're getting sweatier! How is that even possible?"

Helen sighed, "Ed. You are definitely not going to impress her if you keep fretting about this date. Remember that confidence is sexy. Trust me."

"Then I am the UNSEXIEST man alive!"

Happiness

Gerald calmly sipped his rooibos tea and flipped through the Literature section of the newspaper to give the impression that he was cultured. In reality he longed for a root beer float, a copy of The Areas of My Expertise by John Hodgman, and an mp3 player playing One Night in Bangkok by Murray Head on a continuous loop. It also just so happened that Rusty sat down with just that combination of articles.

"We leave our happiness at the door here," Gerald said pointing to the sign which read: No Happiness Allowed. No Exceptions.

Rusty walked away abject but happy.

Gene

Carol had died the night before. It was expected, but still no easier on Gene.

"Sixty-three years, eight months and thirteen days," Gene said in almost a whisper, "That's how long ago I married that little girl." He kept clasping and unclasping his hands.

"The strangest thing," he continued, "I was in bed this morning. Didn't want to get up. And I heard her like she was standing right there, 'What are you doing, Gene? You can't stay in bed all day!' And she was standing in the doorway. Clear as day. Saw her again in her chair. It was her."

Based on a True Dream I Had

The test came on two sheets. One sheet had the questions followed by a blank to fill in the answer. The other contained the multiple choices for each question.

Josh tried laying each sheet side-by-side, but the miniscule desk proved it impossible. Instead he was forced to flip back-and-forth between sheets.

Several minutes passed before Professor Samura jumped up from his desk, "Sorry everyone. I seem to have given you the wrong answer sheet." He passed out the correct sheet.

Everyone groaned.

Fifteen minutes later Professor Samura jumped up again. "I seem to have also given you the incorrect question sheet."

Repeat the Title Over and Over

"Yes!" Kevin exclaimed as he cranked up the car radio. "I love this song."

"What is it?" asked Brian.

"Come On Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners. You know, I am pretty sure that I do not understand about 93% of what they're singing. I try to sing along, but it just comes out in mumbles."

"You could just sing 'Come on Eileen' over and over, and at least you would be right every once in a while."

"This is true. I still love it though." Kevin sighed. "One day I'm going to google this song and find out what it's about."

Dear Person at the Wal-Mart Parking Lot

Dear person at the Wal-Mart parking lot,

What's your deal?

You stopped in the parking lot lane, and waited for me to load my car before I even reached it.

Didn't you notice five cars behind you waiting to leave? Didn't you notice the parking space about twenty feet further back you could have used instead of waiting on me?

There are always people like you in Wal-Mart parking lots! I can't stand it!

That's why I walked back into Wal-Mart after loading my car. I didn't need anything else. I just didn't want to reward your bad behavior.

Sincerely,
~Eric

Peer Pressure

"Hey, Timmy, let's ramp our skateboards off Dead Man's Bluff!" said Jordan.

"My parents told me not to, but okay."

"Wait, Timmy!" said Grusto the Puppet as he popped up from behind the wall the boys happened to be standing beside. "Just because Jordan wants you to do something doesn't mean you should. That's called 'peer pressure' and you shouldn't give in."

"I shouldn't do things just because someone tells me to?" Timmy pondered the situation. "Then I shouldn't listen to my parents' 'peer pressure' and go with Jordan!"

"Thanks, Grusto!" both boys said in unison then ran off.

"No, wait!"

~~~
More episodes of Grusto the Puppet!

One Sentence Story Collection VIII

The other spacemen didn't let poor Spaceman Ned join in any spaceman games possibly because his oxygen level indicator glowed red.

Pastor Sciutto arrived at the wake dressed as a Ghostbuster, "I ain't afraid of no ghosts!"

A Confederate flag fluttered on top of a dirty beat-up truck that was so old it was probably from the Civil War itself.

I sit beside the mailbox waiting for a reply that I am not sure will ever arrive.

Learning Patience

"Long have the gods looked favorably on our small town of Beginning Area."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Hero. "Does this have any relevance to the quest?"

"No. This is just scene-setting, or ambiance if you will. It's to give the world a deeper and richer atmosphere," explained NPC. "This isn't just some silly game. This is art!"

"Boring! Do not want! Skip! Skip! Skip! A Button! A Button! A Button!"

"But then— And— All the— Then— We have— Do you want to hear this again? Yes- Press A. No- Press B. Long have the gods looked favorably—"

"Noooooooo!"

The Case of Doctor Walton

Three years had passed since untimely end of my friend Shamrock O'Malley. Even with the passage of time, the void that he left could not be filled.

I had misplaced my favorite bowler, and it occurred to me Shamrock would have implicated elves or mechanical rats powered by steam or some such nonsense. The thought of Shamrock's profound propensity to come up with the most convoluted explanations for the simplest of problems made me smile.

I visited Shamrock's grave that day. Emotions welled up in me and I fell to my knees.

"I say, my dear Walton, what are you doing?"

~~~
More cases from the files of Shamrock O'Malley

Space Health Care

"Lovenstein's health care plan is a sham!" the voluptuous Babe-mo-Tron™ says to a crowd of spacebillies. "He wants Death Panels to determine life-or-death-or-some-state-inbetween-where-you-wish-for-death-but-it-will-never-come decisions instead of who should be making those decisions: the SHMOs!" The clip ends.

B'jnktl the news-alien continues his story, "Later, President Lovenstein had this to say."

"Nowhere will you find the term 'Death Panel.' We're calling for 'Life Panels' to simply determine if you are worthy of life. It's an important difference."

"And more confrontations erupt in Space Station Hall Meetings around federation," B'jnktl sets up the next clip.

"I was told to yell so I am!"

~~~
More stories concerning Galactic Federation Politics

Return to a Non-Awesome Timeline!?

Professor Brainly unveiled his latest invention, "With this we can pinpoint the divergence of timeline you created and return to our own time."

Carl Awesome tried desperately to wrap his mind around the concept.

"You just need to think fourth dimensionally!" Brainly exclaimed.

"So you're saying that we'd no longer be in a post-apocalyptic future where there are somehow dinosaurs along with modern stuff for me to hunt them with? Hence my name, Carl Awesome: Dinosaur Hunter."

"Precisely!"

"I see," said Carl, and then he proceeded to destroy the machine.

"But why, Carl?!" Brainly moaned.

"I'd have to change my name."

~~~
Other Carl Awesome: Dinosaur Hunter stories

Thunder

I am comforted by the thunder. I am calmed by the deafening crash of electrical discharge from above. It reminds me I am not alone. It reminds me I am small.

No matter what I or anyone may do, we cannot change the course of the winds. No matter how powerful we become or how important we think we are, the thunder still echoes Without our consent the march of the thunderhead will go on unimpeded. Till the end of time the lightning will strike of its own accord.

The voice of God reminds us of how small we really are.

Dontchaknow?

"We interrupt Jon and Zxrrgl Plus Eight Billion to bring you breaking news from the ice planet Roasth," B'jnktl the news-alien said, "Space-Governor and former vice presidential candidate Babe-mo-Tron™ has just announced a surprise resignation. We now go live to Roasth where the space-governor has just taken the podium."

"Hey, Roasth. I've decided to step down as space-governor cause bein' a lame space-duck just ain't cute, dontchaknow? Now the Spacestream Media will undoubtedly spin this as me not knowing what with what I'm saying goodbye!"

"Her builders should've installed more RAM while they were buffing out her sensuous curves," B'jnktl remarked.

~~~
More stories concerning Galactic Federation Politics

One Sentence Story Collection VII

They were all wearing matching colored jackets like they were all a part of the same dolphin-gang.

"Okay, kids, remember: Don't tell mommy the babysitter is dead."

For what it's worth, the "Compulsory User Slavery Clause" had been in the Online Terms of Service Agreement for two years before anyone actually noticed.

"When I said, 'Give me a hand,' I meant it in every conceivable meaning possible."

Mother died this morning; I found out by e-mail.

If Ever There Was a Perfect Day

If ever there was a perfect day, it was today. If ever there was a perfect moment, it would be this moment right now. This was the epitome of what life had to offer, and he realized it. He paid special attention to every detail, committed it all to memory so as not to forget.

Now he became frightened. This was the best life had to offer, but it would not last. The rest of his life he would forever be haunted by that one moment. Forever he would spend striving to recapture that moment. This moment. This one perfect moment.

Remember?

A statue of James Chesterfield stands in what used to be the main square of Eastpointe. The hero of the Battle of Cooper's Farm now stands alone among a collection of abandoned and derelict buildings. One of his arms used to point out toward the future which at the time seemed as if it had limitless possibilities. That arm now lies on the ground beside the statue. In red spray paint across the pedestal on which Chesterfield stands someone long ago wrote the word "remember" followed by a question mark. A more recent response in green paint underneath it read, "No."

It's Magic

Sixteen long months of sitting under waterfalls and contemplating existence had passed before Yarnus the wizard said, "I have taught you all I can. You must travel to the Lilloran Valley and face what lies there. Then your training will be complete."

"Thank you, Master," said Gilder.

"Take this magical food with you. I have cast a spell on it so that you will recover your strength once you eat it."

"So . . . you cast a spell on food to make it act like food?"

"Also take this magical sword that kills things when you sufficiently cut them with the sharp end."

Smell of Failure

Gordon took in a deep breath and then shook his head as he let out a sigh, "I smell failure."

Isaac thought a moment, "What is failure supposed to smell like?"

"You know that first thing you smell in the morning? That smell that sticks around with you all day, and is the last thing you smell before you fall unconscious asleep? That smell is failure."

"Are you saying I'm a failure? That's a mean thing to say."

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I apologize!" Gordon said. "You've probably gotten so used to it by now that you don't smell it anymore."

Demonic Dealings

A stiff breeze blew up the hillside and chilled Forrest to the bone. A cold front was moving in, and he could see the massive thunderhead as it slowly approached with echoing thunder announcing its imminent arrival.

"Hello, again, Forrest," the demon spoke in the cool reserved tone in which he always spoke, "Have you considered my offer?"

Forrest sighed and looked over his shoulder back toward his home, "My family will be safe, right?"

"Oh, yes, safe indeed."

"And this won't be traced back to me?"

"Never in a million years. Do we have a deal?"

Reluctantly Forrest nodded, "Deal."

Childhood Memories

"Do you remember when we were kids walking down these school halls?" she asked.

"I remember because I attended here," he said, "You never did."

She continued her thought nonetheless, "Do you remember how the polished linoleum reflected the incandescent lights making the hallway look like a painted roadway? Or do you remember longing for the recess bell to ring giving you those glorious few moments of play away from study?"

"Yes, but, you weren't there."

"I can see your memories reflected in your eyes. The way you're looking at everything, it's like you're back there again, and I'm with you."

One Sentence Story Collection VI

Paleontologist Richard Goldberg was hardly egotistical; his first major find was named the richardgoldbergisawesomosaurus.

He received a do-you-love-me letter with boxes marked 'yes' and 'no,' but he instead drew a third box and checked it and labeled it 'ewwww.'

She is like a song that gets stuck in your head; the more you try to forget her, the deeper she imbeds herself into your psyche.

"Put away the regular ol' ketchup, Margaret; tonight were breakin' out the 'fancy catsup!'"

Sorry North Dakotans

Paul had only gotten three sentences into his book when the woman sitting next to him began to make chitchat. "Don't you love flying? My name is Julie. I'm from North Dakota. Have you ever been?"

"That is an amazing coincidence," Paul said as convincingly as possible, "I had been considering moving to North Dakota."

"Great place to raise a family," Julie added in.

"Yeah, North Dakota has all the things I'm looking for: Cold weather, very few people. Ultimately I decided on Canada instead. It has those plus the people aren't jerks."

"Why I never!" Julie shouted in alarm.

"Exactly."

Sincere Apologies that Google Brought You Here

The front door shut with a bang. "How was school today, Francine?" her mother called from the kitchen.

Francine half-grunted half-screamed in reply. Then she ran to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Immediately she logged onto her computer. "You'll know the answers to my problems, Google! You've never let me down before. Well, except for that one time you directed me to that short story blog with awful stories and self-referencing humor. Seriously, who thinks that's funny?"

Trepidatiously, she typed in the words "why do people not notice me i am short?"

The search results appeared.

"Google! Not again!"

Like Zombies Are Totally Whatever

"Did I just hear 'brains' said with an inflection indicating the possibility of cognitive thought!?" George the self-aware zombie began scanning the mass of doddering undead.

"Brains?" one of the zombies said again. Her hair, though blood-soaked, was blonde with blonder highlights. Her clothes disheveled and also blood-soaked were designer by the looks of it. She had the orange hue of spray-on tan.

"Finally, a zombie I can have an actual conversation with!" George declared.

"Brains?" the she-zombie said, and stumbled passed George without even a glance.

Apparently, even when zombies, valley girls still say everything in the form of questions.

~~~
More ordeals of George the self-aware zombie

George Attempts Reason

"Look. All I'm saying is that if the living over in that house are well supplied with ammunition and are easily taking us out, we might as well just go look for an easier target. A defenseless small child, perhaps?" George the self-aware zombie tried to reason with his non-self-aware brethren.

"Braaaaaaaaainssssss," hissed the zombies as they hobbled toward the house in question, getting decimated by heavy gunfire in the process.

"I know they're incredibly tasty, but listen to reason!" George pleaded.

"Braaaainnnnnnnns."

"I'm beginning to think you guys don't have any brains! Fine! Get shot for all I care!"

"Brains?"

~~~
More ordeals of George the self-aware zombie

Neighborly Discussion

Everything had been going right that day as Michael stepped out to check his mail until he heard, "Well, howdy, neighbor!" Michael cringed and looked over to see his next-door neighbor, Wilkins, standing a few feet away.

"Howdy," Michael fake-smiled as he opened his mailbox. Don't make eye contact again or he'll hook you into a thirty minute monologue about his cat, Michael thought to himself. Maybe he'll just leave you alo—

"Checking your mail, huh?" Wilkins stepped closer. "You know Smokey has been giving me trouble—"

"Look at the time! I'm going to miss my dentist appointment on the Moon!" Smooth.

Unsent Letter

To my dear friend,

After all this time that we've been apart, I still think of you daily. Random occurrences keep bringing me back to you. A sound, a sight, a thought will bring your image rushing back to my mind.

I saw you yesterday in the face of a stranger. My mind was fully convinced it was you. I longed to run over and hug you. Say all the things that have been left unsaid. Say all the things I've wished I could.

Yet it was not you. Often I pray that someday it will be you.

Until that day . . .

Vision at the Willow Grove

The witch studied Kannir's face a moment. "You had your vision at the willow grove?"

Kannir nodded timidly.

"Well, what did you see?"

"I saw a woman. She wore a gown that flowed about her like ocean waves crashing upon the shore. She had eyes as deep and as blue as the sky. Her hair burned red like the setting sun. She placed her hand over my heart. The grove and everything around me faded from view, until all that existed was we two. 'Follow me,' she whispered, and the vision ended."

The witch shook her head, "This is not good."

Ocean Dangers

"Hey, Jamie! Are you excited about going to the ocean? We're going to have a ton of fun!" Dad was doing his paltry overly-exaggerated enthusiasm gimmick to prod me into capitulating. It wasn't going to work.

"There are all sorts of dangers associated with the ocean, Dad. Riptides, jellyfish, razor-sharp coral, UVA rays, sharks, just to name a few."

"Oh, come on," Dad waved his hand as if these potential death-traps meant nothing, "I actually just read this article on CNN.com titled 'Why Sharks Probably Won't Eat You.'"

I rolled my eyes, "I'm so relieved! A shark probably won't eat me."

Betrayal

We were not of the same tribe by birth, but we were as kin. We were brothers in all but blood. We both swore an oath to the same lord. He accepted us as kinsmen, and so too expected the same from us.

Why then, when the lord was away, did you betray me, man who was my brother? What honor is there in lies and deceit? You hunted me down as a partridge in the mountains. You turned those I most loved against me.

When our lord returns, what will he say, betrayer? What will he do with a kinsmen-slayer?