The hibernation genie started the backwards

The hibernation genie started the backwards lullaby. Commander Antpi relaxed. There was a long journey ahead of him through the Isolar Solar Tunnel and he needed

Everything Cmdr. Antpi contended with that awful day swirled around his consciousness as he entered the solar tunnel, gratified that he could make out the faint scent of meatloaf.

It was the worst goddamned meatloaf this side of Kansas. "You are worthless," the Commander dispassionately told his wife, as he snapped his fingers for them to bring a new one.

"Hey!" yelled the Commander's wife. "You talking about MY meatloaf, mister? Well I'll take it where it's wanted." She strapped on her clogs and stuffed the meatloaf down her blouse

and headed to 24 hour fitness! The fitness geeks that work out at 1 a.m. will appreciate my meatloaf. She waited near the stationary bikes to be noticed. The Commander followed

the gaze of the gym's patrons as they stared longingly at the meatloaf; torn between the sculpted figures they were striving for, and the thought of food. The tension in the air

smothered the sanitized gym decor, like a glimmering ketchup-based sauce atop a baked mixture of ground meats. "There will be no loafing here," howled Arch-Trainer Allana, her cri

sp cleats sparkling with a midnight gleam, though it couldn't have been more than five past noon. Arch-Trainer Allana was in awe of her new meat-lovers' gym design, reminiscient of

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The spammer's finger hung an inch above the enter key. "Bombs away," he whispered, a shuddering wetness, like it always did, spreading itself on his pants. His finger fell.