This place smells like rotten eggs.
I stood alone in a crowded place, a sprawling old mansion in a cramped part of town. Houses in Southside had room for perhaps a tree, or a little driveway in the front yard, but...
She destroys the bathroom in a private jet after suffering from a heroin-induced case of the runs. To pin the blame on another passenger she takes a huge amount of expensive
I told myself to not give them any subtext indicators or anything that could be construed as subtext indicators. I dragged their noses in how meta it was. I even wrote this sentenc
Mormons knocked on the door. Mom-mom said, "You, go talk to them. Pop'll sneak around behind 'em with a slingshot." I begged, "Make me not your sacrificial lamb," and hid under
It's a dreary Sunday afternoon, and Martha has been starring at a blank screen for two hours.
The Red Devil was flowing through her veins, waging war once again, breaking through cellular barriers, battering down both good and evil. She screamed in victory, baldly declaring
"I'm a feather duster and I'm okay." "That's fantastic. Could you dust my house for me?" "NOT TODAY." The PETA activists had arrived, plucking the feathers and returning them to
The end.