sound of it, she was a bit of a psychopath. Guess I'd have to trust myself and myself only on the space mission.

I switched off the TV, yawning. Man, these late night cartoons were getting weird. Time to get some sleep.

I loved her, despite myself. Just not as much as I loved coffee. To get over the break up, I decided to embark on a new business venture- a dating app for coffee lovers.

I staggered off the bus, burning with embarrassment. I was still 10 blocks away from home, and I'd have to make the journey on foot, soaked in my own piss.

atre tickets of a reenactment of said "Bull in a China Shop" episode for triple the price until the tea police caught me or price gouging. My jailmate was none other than Yuuto

One pictures the end as an absolute end to suffering,but it isn't true.There is no such thing as a conclusion;it is merely how our addled minds perceive the long cosmos: in pieces.

my tongue, joined the fray. Oh! What time was had by all in the Geriatric Ward! Drumming, clacking, the Cursed Dentures called forth from our united din the Damned Quad Cane.

, optic nerves lashing away at the ground. You'd be forgiven if you thought you saw a faery being. The little eyeballs ran into the night, propelled by fiber and sheer vision.

ents are stupid rich white people who think the loss of hearing equals cognitive decline. We mindfuck them into sheep and the Deaf inherit the world. The street dances with sign

Bing to do right by everything.The letter from the future was rendered in nostalgia and displayed in Netscape. The Google Backlash caught her justby the seat of the pants, an Apple

eval credit. Yelp doesn't lie. It may seem I'm ungrateful too, but I'm not, promise. Going into Hell to correct (retrieve) paperwork errors (lost souls) is the forte of masochists.

But forget not, in a fold, that a past sometimes is just too rotten to remember, and it's best to fold your story with a brighter future in mind. The next rule of folding is

e rabbit hole of office parties. Everyone had that one night... his was a doozy. He was on edge, afraid someone remembered. He sweated at the cooler. He trembled in crowded

distilled their violence and suffering into bite-size pieces from which readers take nourishment,even as they swallow generous sips from those not-so-empty-anymore bottles. Authors

didn't realize it. He was so laser-focused on his future, he'd accreted a startling number of hangers on without knowing. Brock Murphy flexed his

But to me she was Chicken Enchilada w/Spanish Rice plate. I always joke with her like that. I remind her that without my love she could just as easily find herself in a street taco

and the twit. These are all small birds that make their way in the world as they sit fit. You gulls should learn their lesson also. Give up your desire for the juiciest scrap. GIGO

Soul Crushing records was the brain aneurysm of Cristof Yurselph. He might not have invented paranoia inducing music but he was the one who was putting it in your ears & now brain,

How neat is it that I put on the paranoia inducing music just as I remember that there is an outside world? Out there. A World. Worlds, really. A whole lot of those worlds want to

PurpleProf was clearly overtaxed by academia if she thought this 3rd line was going to be any better than her's o,r from the sound of it, the first. We are hostages to our mileu.