wombs with the power of new lemon tide soap, now with a hint of lime!" The mops did the trick, but not on the sewer system which had gained full-on sapience. Now they were screwed.

flexed its retractable switchblade claws, the dog reeled back its head to reveal an array of tactical ground-to-air missiles. Invisibility was off. The cat retaliated by unveiling

anordyslexia where they only screwed up spelling short words. The Hulk's babies needed to be stopped, and how else do you stop babies than with a giant spike press? Tell me a more

And then, suddenly, the Earth blew up.

set up by beret-wearing hipsters putting on another rendition of "Waiting for Godot". I much prefer the sequel: "Waiting for Godot II: Waiting for Godot to Fucking Leave". Qua.

you melon-fucking, Vonnegut-reading, street sign-stealing punk." "I only steal street signs to make a statement on society! The rest you may chalk up to bad taste." Narration broke

him, but Bruno's alcohol-induced coma and spouting of eldritch beings left him dead as a doorknob to the world. Peggy shook him more, but just then, the Ravers returned! After 20

mumbled through huge open mouthfuls of "Chinese" food. Somehow, this impressed Jones's superiors, who then began hurling fortune cookies with great force at the other patrons.

The starship Sparkle was launched at twilight on the nose, but navvy Earth forgot about all the red-shifting and soon they were far off course. Only John Michael Godier could save

thought to lose easily to Doctor Fate, but Dr. Goodfeel was an experienced soap opera doctor, and could bring all the tropes to the table: Hiatus hernia, amnesia where you forget,

At any second now, the toilet would overflow! This is what happens when you don't wait until tea time exactly to have tea time. She and the little green creatures would learn the

which he promptly ordered. He'd always been a fan of eating ends, and he didn't ask for an appetizer to start. He waited, thinking about his diner bill reading "The End, $24".

grab a sander power tool and grind on my gigantic wart, and just keep grinding and grinding and, like Mr. Owl, find out what was on the inside. It turned out to be a tiny man named

who doesn't love cramming their gullet full of greasy fat and sodium? Ancient Roman cannibal fetishists used to do it all the time. So I sold a million "Serve Long Pig" t-shirts.

g how edgy they could truly get. Spicy condiments? Diarrhea? Maybe something to do with the navel? No, their superior eyeball licking was better than everyone else, the cowards.

ionary within spitting distance of the house. So Jimmy headed over while the fam was on Christmas vacation. He was clad in his swim trunks and on the precipice of the great pool.

pocket and pulled out my Gaming PC I keep in my pants for FoldingStory emergencies. My name is Kenneth Frequency, and it's my goal as an artiste to prove angry art is the only art.

like a little pussy, until Khusyairi walked over and stomped his head into the sand. That got Ariq to stop crying, eventually. On like the twelfth or seventeenth stomp. "Lol," said

But Satan wasn't interested. He just kept looking down at his smart phone, tapping away at Flappy Bird or some Russian virus crap or some such shit that GrayStillPlays faps to.

did I lost my clavicle? I always kept my instruments in tip-top shape, and now it was coated in salsa. And I thought this was the kidney pool, not kiddy. Still, hunger was hunger,