Welcome to Mc.Donalds! what would you like to order?

Georgie looked at the empty picture frame on the wall. It had once contained many memories of a happy, safe life. Ever since the purge of wizards from her homeland Georgie's life

I seek a Great Perhaps, an opportunity to do something meaningful with my life. But that's very difficult to do working the 9-5 in an office cubicle.

Strange to say, but even though Hrengor the Beholder was my alt, it felt like we looked at each other when we discover that one of his alts, Arbo the Starmage, played yet another

I'll tell you a secret story if you promise you won't tell anyone.

The trees in the forest created a barrier between the dragon and me. As I walked closer to the forest, I noticed something on the ground. It was

fgegegeg gq

I had thought that I was done with the voices. It has been years since I last heard them but I hear them tonight. They are so soft that I can almost believe they are simply static.

After her first turducken, Emily was a woman obsessed. Suddenly, every meal had to include some poor animal crammed into another. She started small at first, stuffing field mice

Did I just hear the Wilhelm Scream or was I just imagining it again?

soo this class is

john, a good looking guy, is walking in a forest. he sees little red hood. her favorite color is red. she likes to bake cookies for her grandmother.

I'm sorry

"Excuse me, miss, do you have a minute to talk about--" Olivia held up her hand to silence the boy before he could finish speaking, refusing the pamphlet he held out. She was in a

"Captain, the Romulans have hacked our Kappabashi training program as well as our food replicators." Ensign Sanjo Weems was sweating. He was still entirely organic. Plastic food

Back in the day, there was no such thing as Ephemerol to dull the mental noise of the ninnies. So when a great clamor arose over Shanyang's crusty boastings, Lao-tse headed for the

I'm so lazy at work that I don't even bother to get up to pee. Instead, I

The Lady laughed like a mirthful child, tossing her hair and singing songs about puppies as she slowly dragged his naked body, feet-first, towards the industrial sized wood-chipper

The Chefs of Folding Story were at a crossroads. They knew about "too many chefs" and yet so often something excellent was cooked up. A crow alighted. The sacred cutting board was

The Prince, my son, is dead. More importantly, the Queen's son is dead. I have never seen her like this. My son, the Prince, George Armstrong Custer, will live again even if Time