Authors: Cramulus, Malcoid the Malcontent, Rev. Whats-His-Name, Suu, Eve, Richter, Eater of Clowns, Jenne, Ratatosk, Triple Zero, Philly Fillet, Sheered Völva, Quercus, The Good Rev Roger, Videodrome

I returned home to find the damned dog waiting for me, tail wagging loyally, seemingly ignorant of the fact that he had been buried for three days. In time, I began to find the rotting undead dog a better companion than a dog which needs to be walked and fed each day. My priest, concerned, said that if you love something, set it free, but I'm shopping around for a better afterlife.

When the smoke cleared, I tried to check the coordinates on the time machine but it was too badly beer damaged. As if the situation wasn't sobering enough, I was out of cigarettes. There were two important questions: Is this the past or the future, and What was I going use to barter the keg back?

The day started off in a rather unfortunate manner when I discovered that the surveys I had requested to be returned unstaples, were indeed, stapled. I began the monotonous task of removing the staples from the surveys, knowing it would take only one to fuck up my $10,000 scanner. Alas, quitting time arrived and I had only completed 200 surveys, realizing that my next day of work was really going to suck.

I was surrounded by color--spinning, swirling bright lights, circles of pinks and greens and blues fading in and out of each other. Sticky red at my feet, where I'd been dancing in shards of broken glass, wood, plastic. Perhaps I shouldn't have tried to decorate the Christmas tree on shrooms.

I've never seen someone laughing hysterically and vomiting at the same time. But then again, I've never seen someone eat a cartoon character before. Derek wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes red and glassy, "Magically delicious."

As Jack found the artifact, he wondered whether--"WHAT IN BEN'S NAME ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT DUCK?!!!". Crawling back into its intestinal tract and causing a mild diarrhea, he pondered the ramifications of his latest exploit. His real father would have understood the importance of fertilizer.

Jack Chick knelt before the alien brass idol. "Was the last comic sufficient, master?" The reply, apparently negative, was a horrible flash of light which caused the aging cartoonist to twist on the floor in seizure.

SHIT. What the fuck?! You promised me that last Wiggles ticket, you cunt!

I always liked children. That is, until the operation.

After taking another bite from my bagel, I asked the other one, "So this is mutual, right? You're not being forced into it?" She said it was a mutual agreement, and with that they were married. I cheerfully told them to fuck off, and suddenly realized that I had sealed a lesbian relationship between two non-lesbians.

The door closed, and he could hear the click of her heels as she walked away. A half-smoked cigarette smouldered in the ashtray, tracing the aircurrents kicked up by the lazily occilating ceiling fan. James bent over, put his face in his hands, and whimpered, "how was I supposed to know that was your sister?"

I started to play the song I wrote for her. I had spent so long finely crafting this melody. Something went wrong, and I was sleeping alone again.

I can't seem to get my brain started in the morning. Pulsing clockwork dreams are banished as morning light falls across cold solar panels. But they won't do the trick alone - no computations will take place until I've poured another quart of oil into my ear tube.

My breath is quick like ghosts in the December air. I duck around the corner, pressing my back against the bricks as I listen to the sirens pass. Best $4.99 I've ever spent.

My cats think I've gone mad. But I'll show them. I'LL SHOW THEM ALL.

It was a very quick tumble down the stairs. Much faster than I had anticipated. But the slide down the bannister, THAT, was epic.

"Okay," I said into the cell phone, my voice just beginning to crack, "I'll see you later. Bye." I still had to go into the bookstore to get something, and I was suddenly very, very glad I was wearing sunglasses. The family cat of the past 17 years was gone, and when someone you've known your whole life suddenly dies the tears don't care who's watching.

There was no reward, no happy ending, no great conclusion and end to struggle and toil. Only a sight defying expanse of dessert and dune before me, extending off towards mountains on the horizon, another challenge, another part of life. Smiling grimly, I knew I wouldn't have been happy with anything else, and began to walk.

Max was confused. "It worked last time", he assured his now restless audience. Maybe he wasn't using enough goat blood.

It was another crazy Monday Morning. Mother loaded me into the cannon, per usual. Someone must have monkeyed with the positioning because this time I ran smack into a tree.

They had been watching Max fumble the innvocation for over twenty minutes now. Megan got up and went to the snack table, only to discover someone had eaten all of the rice crispy squares. This was the worst satanic ritual she had ever been too.

Peter Jackson had few regrets in life, but the ones he did have were worth it. The foremost was his ill - fated decision to take Gollum out for sushi. That and the time he got drunk with an Ent.

The jesus fish on my car seemed to be staring at the darwin fish on her car. Like a sadomasochist who embraces both pleasure and pain, I sought to unify my attraction and disgust. She mooned me with her eyes.

Determination ran in the family, although one might argue paranoia, that perpetually crippling offspring of the "healthy imagination" he'd possessed as a child, was just as common in what his father half-jokingly referred to as "the clan." Sitting before his school principal, the confidence he wore seconds ago melted when he realized he hadn't prepared a coherent way of presenting his argument. The time for such things having passed, he proceeded, "I want to create a pention to ban history from our school, or something to protect us from time travelers who might use our own history against us, or...?"

Seeing my final report card was the biggest disappointment in his life. He decided there was only one thing to do. The murder of crows sitting in the tree above him flew off as soon as the last ember went out.

Slowly maneuvering his net into the stream, the biologist braced against the current and kicked at the substrate. Overhead, the gold and orange leaves blocked a bright autumn sun and whispered in the breeze. Moments later he lifted his net from the water, close to his face, and smiled at the success of his catch.

I hope they deliver my dry cleaning before the office party starts. It's not that I want to attend. It's that I have to cut through the party on the way to the parking lot, and it'd be nice to be wearing pants when I do.

I removed the butter from the crock, and carefully carved a hollow into the semi - solid condiment. Within, I deposited the horrid matter i had produced, fitted the mass back in the crock, and returned it to the fridge. The roomates would dig too greedily and too deeply, and soon they would find it.

It was an average Tuesday. Well, except for that mean wind from the west. It was that last gust that forced me into the median.

Gyro Bottom was saddled with what most would agree was a dismal name. To be fair, he did his best to attempt to overcome, and rise above the name, but in the end the name drew rock. Despite what anyone ever has the balls to tell you, NOTHING beats rock.

I set my wine glass down, mostly empty except for those fine drops of a 10 year oak-aged chardonnay sliding down the bowl of the glass to the bottom. It was then, I realized, I needed more wine. I called for the wine steward, who retrieved the glass, and left me a note.

He heard the quick snick of the lock behind him, savoring the sound in the cold, cool afternoon. His prison catalog boots carried him further from the gate, the sun bright overhead. Today, he was a free man, and he reveled in the feeling, turning his face upward to catch the slight breeze that had been blowing the grass at the edge of the sidewalk nearby.

She traced lazy circles in the condensation left by the cool of the glass at her elbow. Funny how diners always have this ugly table countertop, time out of mind. Hearing a sound to the back of the restaurant she turned and looked to find that her lover had in fact dared to meet her here, in broad daylight, in front of the whole town.

Mack checked his watch--it was almost time to go, just a few more minutes and he was outta here. The stale stench of the janitor's bleach left a tang in his nostrils that he could feel all the way to the back of his throat. He hated being the nightwatchman for ENRON, and he knew that come morning, the bloodbath in the papers would end this job forever.

Gunfire was heard overhead. Another shell hit the ground as he raced toward the mountaintop, his dusty feet in his thick, flat sandals pounding the dirt as it came up in little chunks. If he could get up there fast enough, he could warn his buddies that the war had started, and the Soviets had entered Afghanistan once and for all.

"How long do I have to live?" the woman asked, looking up between her tightly clasped hands in the sterile, cold room.

The doctor looked at her, seeing someone who was young, but old, pale and thin yet still so full of life, and he began to speak with quiet sympathy.

"I don't usually like to speak in probabilities, but Angela, the typical time period for this disease to take over and completely overcome the body is about six months--I'm so sorry."

The pulsing beat of the music inside made her yearn to enter the dark doorway, but she hesitated even still. The night was young, full of many possibilities. But this was Lulu's evening to be on the town and maybe get some kicks in, and the richer Johns were always found in the nightclubs on Tuesdays at eleven.

At the top of the stairs was a strobing light, its beam cutting clear across the ceiling with little discs that turned on and off, on and off. The hallway was silent, but you could still hear the distant thrumming of the traffic out on the street. Across the hall, the cat waited silent and still on a chair, hoping to bait that final mouse he wanted from inside the wall.

A beautifully scaled dragon came into view, a rainbow of colors speckling its long, lithe body, its eyes glowing green and tongue a forked yet delicate pink. A puff of hot air escaped its nostrils, and the elfling turned to grasp its ear. "Enough playtime!" said the small little sprite, "because tonight we fight, and we have yet to sharpen your claws for battle!"

A shrill cry broke the night air, slicing it in shards and tearing into the detective's heart. He lay bleeding, unable to move except to swallow and gasp when the spasms inside his shredded torso stopped intermittently. In the distance, an even shriller and high-pitched wail of sirens could be heard, but the sound of a car engine nearby told him the boys in blue were too late--the killer was again at large.

A man rolled up to the gate in his Lincoln Continental. He lowered the driver's side window to hand me his credentials. That is when I shot him in the face.

I grew up very small, in fact, I was always told I was a "Shorty" and "too thin," and that I needed to eat more. But as time went by, my metabolism must've slowed considerably because soon I found myself getting the opposite comments, like, "Wow! I think this is the largest I've ever seen you!" and "You're not a little girl anymore, are you?" So now I'm on a never-ending quest to find that all too thin self, and I fear I will never find her, ever again.

A man rolled up to the gate in his Lincoln Continental. He lowered the driver's side window to hand me his credentials. That is why I shot him in the face.

I saw. I conquered. I Came.

A man rolled up to the gate in his Lincoln Continental. He lowered the driver's side window to hand me his credentials. That is when I shat him in the face with feces.

Morning has come and I must now begin the arduous task of digging out the driveway. Hmm, I seem to have found something hard under the snow here. Scruffy, No!!!!!!

Blushing, wishing I was invisible, I nibble at the food in the doggy dish on the floor. Everyone's laughter fills my ears, but deep down, the most humiliating part is that I need this. I wonder what the other care bears would say if they could see me now.

Waiting for a text. Need a caffeine fix bad. Change of plans, how about this weekend?

Something wasn't right, again, continuing the familiar pattern of discontent, searching, fulfillment, and disillusionment. He wasn't sure what manner of disease to the soul came upon him during his most recent endeavors nor which event in particular sparked it. What he did know, as he began his most recent desertion of familiarity, what he always knew is that he'd find the cure just beyond the horizon.

Very stripped down story. Poor man's Hemmingway? Need more coffee?

He liked Vonnegut's writing style. Yes. He did.

The moment the noodles left my hands, I knew it was a mistake. The die cast, no backing down was possible as they tumbled, I took to the table and delivered my adress with gusto. "HEY, DO I GO TO YOUR TEA PARTIES AND SLAP YOUR DISGUSTING GENTIALS OUT OF YOUR MOTHER'S MOUTH?" (partial cred to B. Clevinger.)

We would like to remind you that we have a diverse office, so be respectful of your fellow employees religious choices. Instead of wishing people a "Merry Christmas" you are instead encouraged to "HAIL SATAN". Thank you and have a happy HAIL SATAN.

"EAT PORK!", I roared, towering over the crowd of listeners. The fools bought my book. The fools asked me how to improve their lives.

It was one man against a thousand. He was out of friends, out of ammo and out of his mind, but he had determination and zeal. He lost... really, really badly.

The outward push from the deepest caves of her intestines built up more and more pressure, fecal matter not quite managing to mold around the unwanted intruder, shit. With a jolt, further inside it went, somewhat out, in, out and once more in again as he felt something rupture, fuck. After the world went black for what seemed to be an eternity, she opened her eyes to a firey landscape and a huge red grinning devil, "Sorry babe, rape or no rape, sodomy is still a sin!", damn.

His mind was of a singular focus and as he looked around the room, he thought, "There has to be something smooth and round about." After a Himalayan heartbeat, his eyes met the seductive contours of a pint-sized mason jar, and he set it on its end. Hovering, and then lowering like a suspension crane, his proudly worn prolapse enveloped the mason jar in pleasant, if ordinary, tradition when, suddenly, he was forced to contemplate a silly question: "Why, oh why Gods WHY did I lean back on the mason jar!?!?"

"Say some young punk tried to get your for your auto. Would you call the one time and play the role model? NO, I think you play like a thug." -Cypress Hill

"It's almost February, Hank, and high time to take down the holiday decorations."

"Tell me, Helen, when exactly does the lawn-covered-with-continually-burning-garbage season end? According to my calculations, it's just beginning."

Little Georgie lived with his Mommy and Daddy in a magical country where everybody was good and pure and wholesome and owned guns. Little Georgie loved sports, lots and lots of sports, and loved hunting with his family and friends and doing lots of good stuff with the good people. Then one day Little Georgie was elected president and oversaw the killing of lots and lots of people in another country and ignored the Geneva Convention and approved torture and declared war on a country with no real evidence and oversaw the killing of lots of lots more people including his own citizens and fought to keep a winless war that made many many many people homeless and vetoed stem cell research which could cure many serious and even fatal disorders and authorized illegal spying on his own citizens and the ripping away of their rights and held people in prison where they were locked up without bail and without an attorney and without even being charged and where they were mistreated and humiliated and tortured and then Little Georgie retired happily and got a really nice pension The End.

Sweet jesus, holy mother of god, why is there a fish swimming around my head? They huddled around their keeper, strewn on the ground, watching as he lay before their tank.

I was surrounded by angry Apache. I had only 2 bullets left, when all 50 of them finally charged. Obviously, they killed me.

I grabbed the guy who left the last available stall with piss all over the seat, flipped him over in the air, and slam dunked him head first. I start working the strangely over sized flush lever when a low mechanical growling sound begins to emanate from the plumbing, the bottom of the bowl opens up, and devours the toilet seat pisser like an enormous garbage disposal. As I step back from the aftermath, wondering how to explain the severed legs sticking out of the bowl, the janitor walks in with an "Out of order" sign.

From the beginning, I thought she was a bit shellfish. This caused our relationship, at times, to flounder. In the end, love conchered all.

If I ever meet her, before we even swap names, I will kiss her passionately on the lips. Sometimes I'll call, just to hear her say, "If you are finished recording, press 1 for more options."

The other racers became a blur of color as they passed him, lying next to his bike in the middle of the street. This was his brain tumor's way of saying, "Tour de France be damned, you're out of time." Suddenly bombs exploded and killed everybody.

The fat squirrel outside. Goodbye. Enjoy the gastric acid.

So much emotion. And only three sentences in which to share it. Ah, the tyranny of grammar.