"I am a memory machine." he said, sitting

"I am a memory machine." he said, sitting down on the rock. "I'll tell you stories of the past, of thousands of years ago and when you are gone I will tell others about you."

Memory machine's toupee looked like golf divot from a Par Three in Needles, CA. He said, "I can remember anything, I have developed a comic book property called Memory Man and

his Happy Gay Friends. Allthough he has no such friends, they're all either imaginary or very, very sad. All he has is

sticks and stones, which in their ordinary forms were no big deal, but combined could create a rather potent weapon- apparently able to break bones. This frightened the beautician,

already a bit vain by profession, drew in his breath heavily and ignored the comment. "Doesn't bother me at all," he said, and moved to apply more mascara to the model's eyes.

"I don't believe that for a second, Hal," she said. "Honey, if you keep moving, we're gonna be here all day," Hal replied, pursing his lips. He was the best, and he knew it.

an Thief waiting to kill her and win her title.

The title of the Queen of the middle of nowhere. Damned was he for questing on such stupid campaign. Idiots these days.

I realized that this whole damn story was just something my mind created to get me off this horrible place, the place where the world moved on, the place were I die.