Slim pushed aside the old AM radio. The dust

  • Slim pushed aside the old AM radio. The dust made him cough. "It's got to be here somewhere," he grumbled "Or else
  • those it's those damn aliens again." Ever since Nevada he'd been having strange visits at night. He couldn't explain why
  • his yard seemed to be a hotspot for UFO landings, but he was getting tired of it. He decided
  • to drink whiskey instead of a bloody mary this morning. It gave him the edge he needed to face these demons from
  • Roosevelt High, the rival high school. Those jerks didn't know their asses from their
  • asteroids. However, their nudy magazine collections were the stuff of legends. I just wish I had
  • learned to read. The pictures were ok, but what were all those words saying? I needed
  • a more immersive reading experience. Hasn't anyone written a comic version of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea? That would
  • be sweet!! But that has nothing to do with the fact that parents these days have NO control over their kids. Not because they don't want to, but because
  • of all the parental controls. And all this time we thought it meant the parents have contrul. Once, the kid next door pushed a button on the remote and
  • he actually stopped time when he pressed the pause button. He figured out that he could fast forward, rewind, and mute, too. I tried to steal the remote from the kid but
  • he had reflexes of a large cat - which he was, so that made sense. His claws were pretty sharp too, and I could only imagine what I looked like with a lacerated
  • face. I had once heard that playing possum was the best tact to take---so I took it. I collapsed, face down, on the floor, attempting not to move, attempting not to display any
  • signs of life. If I wasn't noticed, maybe I'd survive this thing after all. Dread was in the air, my heart was in my mouth and I could hear the sounds approaching me.
  • They were the screams of metal against bone. The calls of viscera that were answered only in splatter and pools. The dreams were coming true, but not as I recalled. Darker, rich
  • and creamy like a Cadbury Chocolate Easter egg. I used to sit in Grammy's lap and eat the cent...DAMN IT, not now. My body houses two souls, and one of them is a boring chick
  • with comfortable shoes, the other is a vampish woman with chronic agita, and the third soul (I know, I forgot one) a go-go boy from Topeka. Needless to say, I forgot about the egg
  • in my coat pocket. I couldn't resist the flamboyant little Topekan. So I grabbed him firmly by the lapel and reeled him into a sort of tango posture. He looked at me as if
  • I'd grown a third head, but in another second, he decided to play along. He caught a rose between his teeth and engaged me in a dirty, sweaty tango between the sheets.
  • A manage a mois. Pale grunts and whispered breath in each of my six ears. You might call it masturbation, but I wasn't abusing myself. I wanted it. Bad


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