6 Folds
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Or Suzanne Pleshette. Was there ever a Steve Pleshe? Is a Corvette a female car? Are all cars female? Are all females Suzanne Pleshette?! IS SUZANNE PLESHETTE STILL ALIVE?!?! -
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custard. Of course, I don’t have taste buds and my mouth is full of sand, so what would I know. But enough of this food talk. I know why you’ve come here, and furthermore, I know
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my basked of used “The Wedding Planner” laser discs. The cases scattered and burst open causing discs to speed through the air slicing the arms of my
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by something else, something… sinister? The only way to find out was to go deeper into the hallucinations, to befriend them, to earn their trust, to become like them. I focused my
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store for tea and crumpets. The seating was divine and the people watching truly engrossing. There were certainly perks to living underneath a bed store, Mother Hubbard thought.
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rolled across the land. The next day came—quickly and without mercy. Hampster Herod crawled over to his water bottle and licked sporadically. The time had come: Hampster Jesus must
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all the coin on eyeliner and feather conditioner. When the harpy returned empty winged, I knew we were doomed. My despair, however, was premature. When all seemed lost, the harpy
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create the next great American novel. I sat down next to the helicopter and pulled out a rough piece of paper out of my satchel with a flourish. I pulled the cap off my favorite
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basket of lies. Because that pompous buffoon with his bodacious pompadour had gone too far. Because I was raised to right the wrongs of others. He. Had. To. Pay.
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and rice (cilantro lime, if you were wondering) until we arrived at a laboratory. A slat in the door creaked open and a trio of eyes materialized within the darkness, peering
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but properly put the frozen items together in one bag and the refrigerated items in another. He paused for a second to consider which bag to put a greeting card into, before
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—socialite, influencer, bear—climbed up to the lido deck of the Good Ship Google and suveyed her followers. This party may never end, she thought to herself. Apple Smart car had
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cuddle, then clam up, had reached nirvana. this sweet, murderous littke lemon had a newfound zest for life. “Pucker up world,” it said, “it’s time for
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they purloined our vast stores of couscous and piri piri chicken. Our food vault was almost empty. With only days to go before the bombs dropped, we didn’t have a lot of time to
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until their eyeballs popped. “Oh for the love of…” Grandpa Cthulhu grumbled, his prodigious claws digging into the leather sofa. “Does anyone care to explain themself?” Junior
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subsided. As the mud settled and the crickets began to chirp again, a feeling of peace returned to the bayou. And the day held potential once more.
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My house was gone, my car was gone, my cat was gone, my farm was gone, my groin was gone, and my
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I bolted over to the cabinet where I kept a life preserver for every human on the planet. With an esprit de corps that can only be described as laissez-faire, i began tossing them
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sierra mist. At which point, the cola gods were satiated. Earth had once again been spared their wrath thanks to the ingenious plan hatched by whoever the main character is above.
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ing in time for supper. But the story was only halfway done. The author racked his brain for more conflict; he searched his mind for further exploits. But there was only the blank