Fly by the seat of your pants. You need wings and the only way to get them is to earn them. Once you earn them, you can do just about anything you want, within reason. Such advice

where I thought it was and I was rewarded with a thump followed closely by a bird's shriek. Then there was a thud behind me. I stumbled blindly towards where I could hear it thrash

why Marnie Fluggle (no relation to Barney Google), with the goo-goo-googly eyes, was merely referred to as Google, and was more of an expert on any and every subject than Fluffy,

I put on my pink tiger leotard and march out the door with all the pomposity that a German Ziggy Stardust could muster. I looked fabulous, and felt like I could ride the train with

annoyed. Her pain mattered little to them. What did was that their legs were growing numb and their asses all ached as they sat, crammed in like sardines waiting for the poker game

Should I bring out that too often those who were allowed to wear purple had the lives of thousands in their hands. On Sundays, his thumb determined the fate of some gladiators. In

Decided to grow both fur and wings simultaneously and see what animal he ended up as. He turned out to be a bat-cat. This meant that he could fly around the house all night and

Think I didn't work at a pizza joint for life unless the universe had no flying tomatoes, green peppers, jalapenos, poultry sausage, pepperoni, onions or mushrooms? I am accustomed

The word was, you never really want to go to pippopippi. You cannot escape pippopippi in a world that is upside down. You would rather visit Uncle Pepperoni and Aunt Rutabaga. They

Yes, the fur's gonna fly in this week's edition of The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers as fat Freddy hides in a closet with his cat while the hurricane blows away all the dope he

-B guns were left at the door, as they tended to startle the flock of starlings that had flocked to the flocked avian apse. The sheep and cows had their own apse, too. The chickens

but would not cry out from the testicular pain. "Pink (snap) is not your color," he grinned, snapping the bottom of her bikini top...gasp...a fist-sized wad of tissue fell to the

the ghost of Harry Nilsson, Oscar the Grouch (who had accidentally dropped acid and could now think outside the trash can), Lady Elaine (AWOL from the neighborhood of make-believe)

nodded that yes he was AI, his electronic presence shed a 4 x 4 blue pixel tear. Gareth Shackleford said yes. Like Molly Bloom before him. His perceptual range was a non-issue and

lived. Therefore we just worry through it, telling ourselves that someday we will stop to smell the roses. Someday we might even plant the roses so that we can smell them. Surreal

Adolphus lost an astrolabe - all mumsy in the wabe - Drumpf's a piece of work - admit it, you're a jerk.

only bringing more static to go with the crazy leylines we've been having around here lately. Something like that is sure to vex your snarfs: or snarves if you want to be pedantic.

was secretly her panties in my nose and they fell out onto my desk. Everybody in the office looked over, then back...then snapped back at my desk.

into a comedic farce, there was nothing I could do but howl and rage against the cruel joke. But I had friends in high places, and the heart of the mountain wouldn't stand for long

about your evil Mother. But I digress. "STAY ON POINT!" I see you screaming through the deliciously thick plexiglass. I smile, and calmly say, You're in jail today