It was a head on a dolly. A bloody dolly.

It was a head on a dolly. A bloody dolly. But the head wasn't dead, the eyes looked around and it mouthed words to people. It rolled around scaring the bajesus out of

Michelle Obama because it was the bloody head of an American girl doll. She ran screaming from the bedroom (the one Abe Lincoln liked) and the head followed. It was a sign!

Lured into a corner, even a worm will fight back. Slowly but surely, she turned, the blood still dripping off her brow as she raised the pickaxe at the abominable horror before her

At 6734 n. ashland behind the liquor store.

Frankie showed up early to case the handoff site.He wasn't going to be caught with a briefcase full of beans this time.He rented a room overlooking the back alley & drew the shades

almost all the way down, but leaving room to push bean after bean off the windowsill into the alley below. At first only the rats noticed, but eventually an old woman pushing a

new old paradigm of societal ordering outside the constraints of a carrying capacity. Suddenly her head met with a falling bean. When she looked up she saw them taking aim on her.

"Don't hurt me!" she shouted, as she got pelted with black beans. They burst on her bare skin, leaving deep purple blotches that couldn't be removed. She looked at the scarring

with wonderment, but felt no pain. At this point, after all she had endured, pain was but a distant memory. For now, it was hammer time. In her vernacular, that meant, all bets wer