"Five... Six...Seven!" "Favorite color?"

"Five... Six...Seven!" "Favorite color?" "B...L...U...E" She tugged open the Cootie Catcher. "It says here that you are destined to a life filled with

cancer. I'm sorry." Timmy lost his balance a bit and fell onto his bottom in the playground mulch. "Is that thing accurate?" he asked, not raising his eyes from his light-up shoes.

happening!" And in the next moment he wasn't in the Mayo Clinic with his Oncologist anymore. He was on the third plane of Ellysian Prime hunting wormholes from the Scree invasion

Lotteries. But the Worm Holes were moving, the walls looked organic. He reached out and touched them. Warm. He could see capillaries in the walls. He knew for a fact that

they were alive and hybernating. The long winter would be over soon and the Worm Holes would be eating everything (or everyone) that innocently wandered in to seek shelter.

they decided to risk it but were unsure what they should do with the note she held in her hand. its words had raced in her mind for weeks in the cave.

Once decoded it read, "A container of milk, a loaf of bread, and a stick of butter." She couldn't help but shudder at the thought of those simian creatures, the hands up the rears

, the unblinking bug-eyes, the gaping mouths, the worn out felt and disturbing cutesy voices. These sickening creatures were obsessed with the alphabet and being kind to everybody

and rubber duckies, cookies, and counting. They haunt children in their nightmares and live under their beds... but just like Snuffeupagus, they're imaginary. Or are they?