4 Folds
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As the herd of gingers reached the Aztec ruins in the jungle, the feather serpent god appeared and danced a jig to celebrate my offering. I was elated as he took their hair and -
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things were looking up. The reflected world was silent, but she could talk and sing; the people were flat, and she had dimension. She was a goddess, and
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Christmas spirit. He emptied his beer on her denuded rosebush and set it aflame. "Here Mom, it's a Hanukkah bush," he sneered. Next he set his sights on the
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thus propagating "monster-under-the-bed" hallucinations that lead to psychotherapy by age 30. If their delicate memories are somehow left intact, the children
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He bottled the silence - most valuable for its suddenness - and sold it for a fortune on craigslist. He finally had enough money for that secluded bungalow on Risa.
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the notion of Christmas confections having their way with me - not this year! Last year Santa left me some peppermint bark that actually... barked, and since then
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vogue dance champion wasn't a fluke, and he damn well knew it. Had he not started driving nails into his arms,
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The orange jumpsuit and grease-slicked hair made my brother look for all the world like the worthless punk he was. His nonchalance pissed off the judge enough that
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turning purple!" A quick detour to the emergency room and a blood test later, he was diagnosed with
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days of leisure were actually causing his brain to atrophy. He'd tried to dismiss the way he slurred his words and occasionally missed a step, but his eyes never lied. He wondered
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unbuttoned his shirt, exposing the hidden tattoos covering his chest - including a caricature of the fat waitress. As he professed his love for her,
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licensed proctologists sanctified with the blood of a chicken. I couldn't find one in the Yellow Pages, so I searched Google and
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best week of my life, but when Yanni calls, you answer. I packed my duffel bag and started walking. I got as far as Hoboken before
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and his phone jingled, sending him sprawling into the curio cabinet. Her grandmother's favorite Elvis plate
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those damn "It's a Small World" puppets. Lacking the necessary parts for a flamethrower, I trudged into town on my Vespa
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Everything was fine when the birds stopped singing and the wind no longer blew, but once our reflections started lying,
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after I flushed the toilet. That would stop the calls for a day or so, but she'd always
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jackassery; luckily, we have not yet stumbled upon a method with which to stifle the freedom of individuals to