Sixteen years ago I spoke before a jury of

  • Sixteen years ago I spoke before a jury of my peers and confessed to them the nature of my dreadful crime. Some laughed, others reeled in disgust, while other still fainted. But

  • I will never forget the look on the foreman's face. A look of malice, of hatred. "We find the defendant guilty your honor." The courtroom erupted with catcalls and

  • a proclamations to lynch me. They put a flak jacket on me as I was escorted to an awaiting van. The guard looked down his nose. "We take Parking violations seriously."

  • He pulled out a black metal box the guard called the "Wincher." Jumper cables were attached to it. He grinned. He used a sponge to wet my chest. "Parking in the red zone is a

  • sexy offense." The Winchester winched me up into a hanging, immobile position off the ground. I wasn't liking where this was going. I had to remind myself of that. I had other

  • feelings that were liking it way too much and competing with the rational part of my brain that said it hurt. "Now let's try this one more time," I heard through the fog in my

  • vehicle. I never wanted to be an astronaut. I could have stuck to accounting. But here I am taking directions from a sentient pencil in space. I was pretty fed up. I wanted to

  • rewrite history, but this wasn't what I had in mind. Sighing, I looked out the pod bay windows into the starry darkness, "OK. Lead on." The sentient pencil sharply ordered

  • the #2 Ticonderoga Brigade to push forward. "Prepare your erasers!" The sentient pencil barked. "But what's the point?" a small voice from the back protested. "We're already

  • graphite grafitti!" Sentient pencil drew a Marginal line in the white fields of Lignia but the mechanized pencils lead assault was too much & soon their sketchy defence was history



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