She walked down the hall. She had her bookbag

She walked down the hall. She had her bookbag in one hand and a small water bottle in the other. She was so scred she didnt know

what scred meant. The feeling was so powerful it forced a non-word into her mind. Was she "Scared?" or "Screwed?" Was she "Sacred?" But sacred wasn't really a feeling, unless of

course you really are that far up yourself. No, this word held an untold power, she could feel it somewhere at the back of her drug-addled mind. Being high has disadvantages, but

Without the drug she could not feel the same crawling sensation. It tingled up her spine and crawled down her neck, her head throbbed. She knew she was changing, her arms turned to

shiny black appendages. She sprouted four more from her abdomen. On her belly an hourglass tattoo glowed bright red. She knew she shouldn't have mixed black widow venom into her

Cosmopolitan that morning. "At least I can find fame on eccentric/scary japanese game shows now." , she mused.

"But is that what it's all about?" I pouted. "It's a big universe out there -- colossal -- is this the best we can come up with? Aspire to? Achieve?" She flipped me off before

I could jump off the back of her shoulders, which was the only way I could actually see the universe, as I was, well, short...a little person. But I had big dreams...and big hands.

The view was awesome from atop her soft creamy shoulders. I could see everything and I do mean everything. Grunting, I stretched my big hands over her shoulders, reaching to grasp

through her legs and back up, via her coccyx, to interlace her elbows. Then I put my left leg behind her knee and brought it forward to abut her ankle. I am an expert at Twister.