'If I could bring you back to life, I really

'If I could bring you back to life, I really would, I really would - Mama.' said Richard looking at the old, sepia-tinged photograph. The blood-stained knife was still in his hand

"Why the hell are you talking to that damn picture?!" Richard's mom shouted. "The dishes aren't going to wash themselves!". Richard was shocked. His mom was still alive! He could h

ardly cash in on the life insurance if the old bag was still breathing. He invited her to take a nice rest in the comfy Crown Vic parked in the garage. He started the car and gave

her oxygen tubes a good yank. "Hey!" She crowed from the back seat. "Makin' sure they were attached. Ready for sweet air?" He latched her air hose to the F250 exhaust

French poodle, but instead the mangy mutt mutated into a bizarre, misshapen puddle of goo that gradually engulfed the entire city. It threatened to destroy the planet, but then

scientists determined it was not so much lethal as the rampant panicking people are prone towards. True, it was a gross inconvenience, but the goo-poodle (goodle?) over the planet

was more useful for fear mongering more than anything--kind of like those epidemics you see anytime you bother to glance at the news.

My Uncle Julian had long since smashed his smart tv, out of disgust. You would not believe the mess he made and the noise. His neighbours did not call the noise police because they

were on Noise Patrol and were supposed to take care of noisy problems by themselves. The local Noise Patrol, however had become much too ponderous and corrupt. Uncle Julian