"Am I prolix?" asked the small shrimpy animancule

"Am I prolix?" asked the small shrimpy animancule swimming in the gloop. "Perhaps 'less is more' should be my mantra from now on." Smiling ever so slightly it flicked its pinkish

chest-flap at me. I vomited into the black-plasma and thousands of hover worms started eating it. I've never been used to this world's inner core. The small shrimpy animancule

But at the last minute begged off on account as that he does not have a head for heights. Everybody said "WTF?" and we moved on. But now we find out that wasn't the end of it, The

little rubber cap not turning up. The only place it should be able to turn up was within a three foot diameter in his bedroom, thus proving inanimate objects defy all physics.

No, I must refute this, as the very nature of a little rubber cap might be that it bounced out the bedroom window and down seven floors to the sidewalk below, where it was picked

up by a musician on his way to a big audition to join an orchestra, seen as a luck charm, and pocketed. That little rubber cap is gone for good, I've admitted that to myself.

My house was gone, my car was gone, my cat was gone, my farm was gone, my groin was gone, and my

mom suggested I play the record in reverse. Suddenly, I got my farm, my cat, my car, and my house back, but sadly, no groin, and no girlfriend. I guess that thing about country mus

ic played in reverse to reveal hidden messages was also true. I played “Rumor Has It” in reverse and heard an eerie voice say “I buried Reba.” Still, no groin, and no girlfriend.