Has anyone ever done a zombie western? That would be a crossover to make my skin crawl. Let's dig up the Duke and Charles Bronson & Gary Cooper & have Clint direct. Tombstone II

Everything starts somewhere, although many physicists disagree.

The crybaby pizza bandit struck again in Montana. He left the cash, but walked away with a large peperoni and wings. Police need your help catching the bandana wearing con man.

A stoat, a parrot and a dog with a vest of fissile plutonium walked into a bar and ordered a drink. The stoat ordered a dry martini, shaken, not stirred; the parrot, a Zombie; and

The statue of Phatty McButterpants is proudly displayed on my parents fireplace mantel. It's an embarrassing story, but since I've gotten you this far, I'll tell you. Phatty was my

"I spy with my little eye something green." "Is it money?" I asked. "No, it's a planet you've never heard of." Grrrh. "Dammit, christian god, I'm going to Durga's to pay Twister."

Looking back, I'm confident that the entire situation could have been averted if not for the simple phrase "What can I do you for?"

I came home after getting groceries last night and there was a seraph with a flaming sword guarding my apartment door. No matter which way I turned, I could not enter. Unsure of

So I graduated wizarding school knowing a smattering about potions, hardly a thing about current affairs, and two cantrips, Create Scotch Egg & Ebenezer's Bewildering Rhinoplasty.

Agent B52s Tricky mission: find a Cure for the Broken Social Scene. His contact said he’d find a Gold Panda At The Drive-In, under a pile of Cardigans behind the Dirty Projectors.

"Oh, hello! I'm Rachel, your next door neighbor?Do you mind if I borrow a cup of sugar?" I held out cup. "I was trying a new recipe, you see and..." Upper lip twitching & he invit

It was late, the glitter eyeshadow was wearing off, my feet were killing me from the platform furry boots and going to IHop sounded like a perfect way to end this horrid night. My

If I find my key,

"Biscuits! Crumpets! Scones! Get 'em while their hot!" cried the Muffin Man on Drury Lane. A group of American tourists, charmed by the plump little street vendor, gathered around.

At Solferino the air was full of the cries of the wounded and dying. Bonaparte wrote: Josephine, ma biche, I'll be back in 3 days. Don't wash. Je t'embrasse partout, Napoleon (Emp)

I'm sorry my little file-o-fish.

Well fine, there was the time I got completely bombed off of watermelon tequila at the company picnic. You got me. If you want to bring up the old stuff, that's fine. But you still

"So you like those fake plastic beach ball type hooters?" "What do they call your boobs? Broken ballast tanks?" "We'll at least my manboobs are organically grown." "Puff daddy!"

Come on, people...FOLD...FOLD...FOLD... The Foldmaster cracked his bloody whip. What used to be an innocent hobby has become a torturous journey.

He was a gangly guy, a nipple-ripper alright, with an eye for the ladies and a taste for whiskey. Boasting a purple velvet vest, he zig-zagged into the room, smelling of ambergris.