Miss. Willard was a kindly old woman who

  • Miss. Willard was a kindly old woman who lived at the end of the street. She passed out toothbrushes every Halloween instead of candy. She smiled a lot. I hated her, but not for
  • perverted Halloween candy practice, but for her husband Fred Willard. He was an evil bastard. I don't care about his shtick. I hate her for marrying him, and I really hate him
  • for marrying my highschool sweetheart. She was mine, mine, mine! I brooded on a cunning plan to ditch Fred Willard so she could be with me. I researched the 48 laws of power, the 7
  • Deadly Sins, the Pythagorean Theorem and Paula Deen recipes. Putting bits of them all together, my plan to ditch Fred Willard and get my highschool sweetheart back was foolproof.
  • I drew a pentagram on the floor and stood in the middle, surrounded by candles. Reciting the spell, dark energy began to pour forth from my fingers. Soon, my sweetheart had been
  • misspelt by the only other contestant and the spelling bee championship was mine. My lucky pentagram had helped me find the courage. I stood in front of the cheering crowd with my
  • trophee...trofee...trofey...UGH...T-R-O-P-H-E-Y. Yeah, that's it. I had not only won the spelling bee, but a scout from Harvard had come to check me out. He cornered me afterwards
  • and gave me the once over. I started to sweat. He handed me a crumpled up piece of paper that read, "The Python Programming Language" I looked up and the Harvard guy was gone, what
  • the hell? I headed for Ziggy's. He was the best code writer around. I wiped the sweat off my brow as Ziggy answered the door. Ziggy looked at the sweat-smeared crumpled paper and
  • studied it carefully. He always folded a story for inspiration when he encountered writer's block. The cool-headed clarity always helped him rationalize his thoughts.


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