there was nothing left.

  • there was nothing left.
  • there was nothing right.
  • Politics had collapsed. There was nothing above, nor below. Religion had also vanished. There was nothing but contemplation of the navel.
  • Thankfully such contemplation was often fruitful. Many men spent their days wondering where navel lint came from, especially in cases where the colour didn't match their shirts.
  • "My polo shirt is red," muttered Craig, inserting a finger into his navel, "so why is the fluff navy?" He swiped a piece of lint and held it up to his nose, inhaling deeply.
  • The belly button lint was buffeted by Craig's inhalation but clung precariously to his nasty resinous finger. Then the belly button lint inhaled Craig whole. Craig watched his body
  • disappear as it digested itself through his stomach. He could only gasp in horror before his mouth too was sucked into the neverending cavern of flesh and agony. Nothing remained
  • but his high school ring, which was found out in the desert in a petrified pile of poop. The old prospector who found it, took it to town, hoping that it would make him rich, but
  • it didn't. In fact, the ring held an ancient curse: if ever it wasn't worn on a finger, its holder would cause a slight, inexplicable discomfort in the people around him. The man
  • knew that if the ring were not worn, first impressions would go badly. Or he could chuck the cursed ring in a sewer drain. Then all then pack rats would feel socially awkward until


  1. Zetawilk Oct 23 2020 @ 22:46

    Full stop.

  2. Zetawilk Dec 25 2020 @ 19:01

    Truly a story for all ages.

  3. LordVacuity Dec 26 2020 @ 00:44

    Like I said, there was nothing right.

  4. LordVacuity Dec 26 2020 @ 00:46

    I find it hard to believe that my line was added almost 2 and a half years ago. I can vividly remember writing it. Seems like yesterday. Only it was still called scrambled eggs.

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