A girl, mid-sized, brown hair, walked across

A girl, mid-sized, brown hair, walked across the room. Her steps made her glide through the air like she was hovering, never to touch the ground. She glanced out the window to the

late evening air smelling of storm. The girl tightened her pony tail and stepped out the window. "Float," she thought as she drifted over the milkweed.

Sam's farm and moving dangerously towards his house. She futilely tried to move in an anticlockwise direction trying to stop the tornado but

the prosthetic leg, the one crafted by her Uncle Robert, was slowing her down. With a frustrated shriek, Sam ripped it off and whirled into the twister, hoping that her

body could resist the urge to try and stop the storm coming for her. Her prosthetic with it´s delightful bends and particularly lovely designs was flying inside the twister with

Almost a mockingly majestuosity the twister took the home and soon enough her and her uncle everything she ever had trapped between angry winds

Which were having argument seen only on Jerry Springer 's show. Chairs were thrown in all directions but they were robotically controlled. The thought police entered the bathroom.

"Check this out #23," said one thought cop to the other. He shined a light on the wall over the urinal. "Graffiti about Chaucer instead of wieners." "Misdemeanor," said #23, noting

the use of the Middle English vernacular. "Still, there is a drawing of boobs next to it, so we'll let him go with a reprimand," he said, feeling like a total pushover.