He aimed the rifle and shot sending a streak

He aimed the rifle and shot sending a streak of dust through the air. Fat Andy raised his hands. "Kick your gun over here." The gun skidded across the Sonoran desert floor and

Andy picked it up. Best dust shooter he'd every seen. Looked like it could fetch

a small fortune if taken to auction. Instead he decided to put it into his pocket. Andy knew exactly what his next move would be, he'd go to the

safe buried in his backyard. He knew that no one would ever find it there. What he didn't know was that

the neighbor was watching. Mr. Johns was the cheif of the neighborhood watch. He was quite the peeping Tom, and enjoyed walking the streets. Nothing was safe buried or not when

Mr Johns was watching the neighborhood. He'd sneak a peak of fellow watchers in their black and taupe bondage gear, and blame a prowler when he was caught. He admired their stylish

fig cookies, mostly for the enamel that was a delicacy with his kind of Blompian dreadnaught. The watchers now glanced his way, their telepathic powers clearly catching onto his

strangly baked thoughts. The watchers both nodded their heads. "He will be the choosen one." He waddled on down the road thinking, "Is mongoose plural is mongeese? Boy, I'm hungry.

the largest pizza they had with only bacon on it. Well it was his last night to live and he was going to eat whatever the hell he wanted. It tasted better than he could imagine.