2 Folds
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he had wasted so much precious time frustrating with his unusual antics and strangely thick thighs. Coughing up paper fibers, he set out to the hospital to pay for his mother's -
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The pair have granted us many similar works of modern art, culminating in a dynamic performance at MoMA in 2018. Three died. 8 ended up pregnant. They secured funding for 2019.
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orhood than one so accustomed to a Princely upbringing would dare. He feared what the future would hold, and the scorn of his past love, Jane Austen. But enough talk. To Cabaret!
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d eventually lead to his demise, in the eyes of the Church, the eyes of God, and the eyes of Cosmopolitan magazine. Full of shame, Felicity abandoned her beloved elder to go
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They seemed to almost wilt at the sound, demanding of my in organic tongue that I solve their mystery. To no avail, the siren rang to fruition, ending with utter silence. No more.
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just begging to be eaten? They were asking for it. I cast off all professional decorum and tore into them all with claw and tooth, the children on the street forever scarred as I
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He would never see his fate coming, though, for the sheer wall of horror his mind created overwhelmed any humanity he clung to. Soon, all he saw was black, his body for the taking.
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find himself another fine, pretty face to kick in. He contemplated why he needed this, had a predisposition to violence, what in his soul drew him to it . And then the truck came.
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A tear fell down good TIm's cheek, note clutched crumpled in hand, ukelele drawn with the strength of only to a Tin Pan Alley Warrior. "So we shall," he crooned eerily. "Colonel."
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allure it may have once held, now empty pantomime. This Jonestown of once possibly delicious food still has been given up to destiny. They feed, they die, they die, we feed.
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lay sprawled over the floor, cast aside in throes of excitement. But now, faced with the joy only sea monkeys could provide, they all felt a purpose rise. A subaquatic nirvana.
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raising the standards of delicious mutilated animal consumption, only the best for their clients to tease the hippies with. But alas, no luck. Tasteless as a Kevin Smith film.
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doing what she knew, what she thought was right, ignoring the call of end all around. Her smile never waned, even as the shadow stretched over her. No matter, she needed more sand.
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with voyeuristic glee as his future meal gorged itself. Such a treat! Wickedness spices flesh ever so palatably and cannot be purchased alone in the store. With a cackle, the eagle
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Each glance of my eyes into hers brought a shiver into my bones, a little sip of fear that invigorated and stifled me. I once dared to shout, demand of her to speak as we'd taught
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But the Talkonauts would not be swayed, their attempts to rise above the subject of, ironically, much discussion in the generations to come. Generations of dead Talkonauts. Shame.
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His eyes glassed as he beheld me, hands reaching for me with infantile strength, wounded dog want. The faintest whine, "why not?" Then I closed the lid on him, beloved lad, before
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both her and her culturally demanding family. Her uncles promised me deboned, offered to gods in tongues I cannot name, but her brother...he was cool. We actually went out for
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to join them in the communion of the slop, casting our beloved Armani to the chickens allies. Soon would begin the reeducation, all to hail our lord and savior, Wilbur, but first
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spice this up! Look over there!" He hurriedly pointed in the opposite direction, adding a healthy dose of shoe polish. Fun was briefly had by all. The funeral was cheap. Mazel tov.