0 Folds
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are stupid names. And, for the record, golf is just a good walk spoilt. In this case it was a good moonwalk s -
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his intestines. He resented the action rather briefly, then fell over dead. Nobody mourned him. They were preoccupied with composing an elaborate prog-rock jam for IntestiHarp.
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can't die this way!" I wailed. "It would mean that the gypsy fortune-teller was right after all!" Drastic action was needed if I was to survive this guinea pig gauntlet. I reached
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I remember the day the guns stopped firing.
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He was certain of only two things. First, he has owned precisely twenty-four pillows in his lifetime. Second,
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a great rumbly-tumbly laugh. "Ho-HO! Ha-HA! Tiddle-dee-TEE! I have you now, my pretty, and your little beagle, too!" The Great Pumpkin became aware of a chirping in his gourd-ear.
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to gouge my own eyes out. The spatterings of eye-juice fell on the ScanTron in neat little circles, filling in the rest of the test entirely (albeit improbably) correctly. "What a
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of exquisite corpses, victims of the Robopocolypse. Past the bombed-out facades of office buildings it rolled, leaving sticky drippings in its track. One of the wheels began to
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quite like live music, no-siree-bob!" Glen muttered something about "dead music" that NettyPotty thought best to ignore. After a twenty minute wait there was no sign of the waiter.
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burst through the windows. Hunger glistened in their eyes, and space slugs happened to be their favorite food. After a tense fourteen-second standoff, one made a run at his pants.