"Well," said Mother from the bathroom doorway. "So much for the six potty stations I bought for the other rooms in our house. Little boy can't run as fast as us, right?" The Father
Is it just me, or is FoldingStory better written than SNL?
"You need money? Let me print you up some." Nadja served me some herbal tea in a clean mason jar while I waited. "Capitalism makes liars and prostitutes of us all. Look at me!" she
dancing on cardboard made of Canadian trees. A hope for a Tim Horton's to open near our little village in South Alberta before we go mad. A haunted Gretsch at the top of a stairway
All this clutter and yet everything keeps its place from moment to moment and day to day. The books with their covers. Ground black pepper. The dust on the Soloflex. The simulation
One nice evening at our group home, Matt said, "I just wish I had friends." Tibor said "thanks" and left for a long walk. Kai just went to his room. "I wish you did, too," I said.
I knew someone was trying to jam my mind when the infrastructure of the evening seemed to simplify itself into 3:4 patterns instead of the usual 11:17:23 and so forth. My thoughts
asked if I could at least have my old desk back, but LT says the new kid wouldn't like it. Now what? Drink to oblivion? I'm already missing. Luckily my old partner looked me up.
Identity theft is no laughing matter. I take the same attitude in selling paper to those who need life to give them a break for a change. I want to be that break. So I sell paper c
When she took a closer look into his eyes, she could see that it was as he said. He handed her a handbill. Tomorrow at the Dirigible Field an expedition to find wilderness would be
