I’ve been authoring this story for six years, and I don’t know where to begin. I wish a chemist would create a pill for writer’s block; something like Text-Lax, or Word Softener.
Sometimes Heyman Boyd would go incarnate again just to ride the shuttle up and down Dark Matter Corridor 458, read the graffiti at the stations, and watch the variety of people who
The makers of Snakes on a Plane and Snakes on a Train, bring you Llamas on a Lighrail, Roaches on a Bus, Hyena's on an People Mover, Real Ponies on a Carussel and
Kyle had never felt this much anger before. Chad had just poured out all of his monster energy drink. Kyle punched another hole in his wall, but it wasn't enough.
The Starchild knew eternity. He knew every aspect, every frustrating problem with eternity. So he didn't understand why this mortal wanted the eternity. Why does he want pain? Fool
Ambling into the hotel room, Sally flung her clothes on the floor. She strode into the bathroom naked, flipped on the light switch, and shrieked. A maid rested in a pool of blood.
"Look, you're my friend and all but fuck you for waking me up at 2 am for your dumbass conspiracy theory." "BUT KEVIN THE JANITOR IS AN ACTUAL FAIRY. HE HAS THE WINGS AND STUFF."
There's a tidal wave coming and the only hope of stopping it is to detonate a nuclear device at the exact same second the earthquake causing the wave stops shuddering