1 Folds
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"Of course I did. And don't call me 'Rilege.'" -
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in the Magic: the Gathering tournament he hoped would cap off the entire affair. Idly re-taping the bridge of his glasses, he ruminated on the nearest Deep Space Nine poster until
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their marriage was over--the unpacking was, in this case, as metaphorical as the packing was literal. He turned to consider the racks of replica swords hung around the den, then
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is! A Replicant!" Archie howled, his cry of anguish climbing octave by octave to a keening no human could have made. Suddenly, he lept at Jughead with murder in his robot eyes.
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She had wrapped him in the Shroud of Turin. Later, as he marched past her window, world-pope of the Universal Church Triumphant, she decided she'd store her relics separately now.
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the last chicken wing. "Gah!" he cried in alarm. "Did you see that?" She smiled awkwardly. "Oh, well... my superpower is to make ammunition appear at socially awkward times, so
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It was often difficult to find a sex worker willing to give him a Casino Royale, so his superb luck in discovering that his blind date had an insatiable lust for the practice was
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"Love hurts."
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you'll understand why I burned the master copy of Atlas Shrugged. Even leaving aside the abhorrent philosophy, the writing was turgid enough to warrant the fire. The heist began
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sit them down for a frank talk about how their actions affect me and how I don't like the person I am when I give in to these feelings of animosity. He laughed, and The Change was
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The screams of the other patrons in the McDonald's Fun Zone were a distant drone behind the ringing. Numbly, my foe slipped beneath the plastic rainbow waves of the ball pit.
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hurriedly fastened my clip on bowtie around my neck, an act of sartorial elegence made more difficult by the blood rushing to my head and the taut cords of my straining muscles. He
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His outlandish cybernetic penis. Free from the control of his central nervous system, it clicked and whirred in confusion, spasming on the ground like a beached eel. Bemused, I
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my assailant, who staggered under the blow. "Wait, driftwood? Elvania is landlocked!" "Goddamnit, Larry, I'M the Dungeon Master! It's my story!" "But if--" "SHUT UP, LARRY."
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The day when the beholder burst from the Sex Dungeon, squawking in bestial rage and firing magic beams from each of its many vagina-stalks. I dove behind the couch, speed-dialing
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Enough. I whispered the forbidden syllables, and the world seemed to twist like a wrung washrag. The eldritch energies rippled from my splayed hands, and the ABBApocalypse began.
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definitely having to work with Hulk Hogan, who insists that everyone refer to him as "Mr. Hollywood-Hulk" and occupies the bathroom for hours at a time. The grunts and groans from
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from the drawer next to the bed, my thoughts turned idly to hygiene. Had I washed this thing after I'd used it last time? I shrugged, and, coating the bead with lubricant, popped
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the storied sword Hrunting, my birthright. Gently, I lifted the blade from her hands. it was lighter than I'd expected. A flash in the dark sky rippled down the folded steel.
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which flapped in the breeze as the mass collective unconscious turned ponderously upon the airborne Mr. Norris and, with a great psychic groaning, erased forever this joyless meme.