I sure am glad I came across that last story that mentioned hash browns. I'd forgotten that I was in the middle of making some. Got there just in time to do them right. They told

It was a Monday. A day like any other day except it was Monday. It didn't know how to be any other way. Monday it was, Monday it did. Except when it dreamed about being Arbor Day.

She hissed right back at that clerk, "Well Time should've been more prudent!" She left the device as instructed, then fled the building, hoping McD's was still serving hashbrowns.

.Talk about the old woman who lived in my father’s shoes, which smelled like dog poop. Hell is having to see your team lose the championship, over and over, again, for eternity.

To put it mildly, Fred was a worthless piece of shit; he was the cigarette lighter from a 1961 Ford Cortina, and he stank to high heaven of Aunt Bertha’s month-old tuna casserole.

Conrad’s wife ran away with a professional wrestler named Rick. Rick went to prison for tax evasion. Since Conrad was the prison’s head cook, he decided to spit into Rick’s food.

They let Aliens attend our college, and they forced aliens into the dormitories; they filled us with fear. Before long, our skin turned green, and tentacles grew out of our head.

the priests outside clawed at the doors. They assumed the shot they heard was Elaine being shot. They were besides themselves to rescue her or or her body. Kramer gestured for her

od. God had something up his sleeve. It was Rocket. God did the Underpants Dance, then flung Rocket at the android ambassador's face. Star-Lord and Drax slipped out the back of the

cide he couldn't wait to try at home, and then he could make vodka from the leftovers. Case in point, Agent Armando said he'd read sexts more erotic than Fifty Shades. No duh. FBI

ons & neurons were similar enough that both saw the hologram keeping watch over the historic proceedings. Eb'ny Darkn'ss Dementia Ravenway accepted the Oscar for Fifty Shades. Tom

which held their crumpled-up shopping list. "What's this?" Prester asked Anita. "Why do you need all these drinks? Mayonade? Mt. Dew Chlorox Bleach? In my day, water was plenty!"

I only have the one hair. So cutting it becomes a thing. The last time we strung it all the way out it was just over 75 yards long. They gave me the length in meters too, I forget.

I didn't like my tone when I told myself, "I HAD to cut my hair right now!" As in obligated. Fuck that noise. "I don't have to cut my hair. So, I'm not cutting my hair. Not today."

"Who's that for? Latoya," the new maid asked. Latoya ran the inn. They giggled at the thought. "Did you see this BH?" "You ARE newer than I thought. That's BlastedHeath," Latrilla

...Maybe? Another look at the scattered archives might’ve sparked a few thoughts — perhaps ‘Janitor Fists Boss Until Prolapse’ had some sort of artistic or intellectual merit

“Since when did they build lobster parks? Is this some sort of cruel joke you’re playing to trick me into leaving your mediocre, lobster marchless hotel lobby?”

Anthropoligists clique had pasted their manifesto on the wall. They used shit from all 43 of them. A great many Mensa members found their arguments persuasive as well as fragrant.

"Like your mom did hers?" he shot back. Constance, sadly, was incontinent, and her husband's counter-jibe made her piss like a gallon right on the Walmart floor where it belonged.

stalement of personal definition, something I could root in marble so no one could deny me. After my death, stories were made up, tacked under the "parody" clause. Not just of me.