down on the ground. Was he stuck, trapped? Who knew? He didn't, no one did. He would spend his life getting tricked by birds and people. This place sucked!

Then again there was that time, again, when we found ourselves having that conversation straight out of the unbelievable truth. You wouldn’t be murdered, as far as I could tell. I

for answers elsewhere? Who can we really trust anymore? clearly not you nor anyone one you affiliate with.

Strange looking sigil laying on top of the dressing room table at the rear of the room at first she noticed a dark liquid oozing from the crest on the sigil she

EJ Camacho of Space Patrol was deep in the Pattiduke Asteroid belt trying to find a missing deepspace freighter belonging to an allied alien entity or entities, we didn't know, who

The trick is to apply just the right amount of starch to each fold. Nobody wants sharp didactic folds that beat them over the head, how much paying attention to the fold you inheri

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied smugly, lying my ass off. "I had nothing to do with this! The fact that you lost everyone you ever loved is not my fault!"

"Archibald, you're the last one in this room every night. 8pm. On the dot. Television clicked, lights turned on and off in quick succession, smell of lingering popcorn & ginger ale

Such tooth. Such snarl. And what a collar on that guy. It's like his owner, Denny, buffs and polishes it every night before tucking Ralphie in and reading him the Art of War.

we extend an olive branch and help you this fine day, dahling?" Cute, Vlad. Very cute. Not the best moment for such charm and elegant patter. "Olives, man! Olives! Need as many as

Just then, the record reaches a scratch and skips..and skips. .and skips again, as if the singer was reaching his way toward the ethereal plane and gets stuck in limbo for eternity

with so much as a genial nod and a sniff, she whispered back "Okay, ghost. But do it as if performing a vaudeville routine, and come back for three encores. You've got two minutes.

exactly what it meant when Glinda was out and about in the bubblemobile. Trouble. Absolutely positively without a doubt, troublesville. And I told Rodda as plainly as I could

Yes, quite possibly a moron. No pie but plenty of macarons. Who was the true moron-- the Marine mooning and failing, or the poor schlub who offered his tasty treats and walked away

great pains to see that I was well enticed, resorting to full taunts and jeers and subsequently started a whispering campaign that culminated into a deafening roar.

t a spell of indifference, but then remembered that she herself could not bring herself to care about that, for it had turned out that earlier in the evening

goodles from yesterpurp. My, thyme flees when you're having foonsicle! After Fagan matriculated up the aevinitsa, we all freewalled to Kapernium & got shottcased on beeble. Fagan

ta Dodge as fast as the wind, until... "WAIT! We have to go back!" I screamed in She-Beast's pointy ear. "I forgot my cell phone at the saloon!" She-Beast snorted her dismay, but

turned out to be a protracted endurance test full of of brutal ugliness, noise and clutter, similar to the megaclimaxbattles of comic book movies and Star Wars prequels. But even

and that was that and that was all I did. Those damn busybodies all around, though! Doing this, doing that. Why can't people live like cats? Crazy compulsions to make and do