“You said to come in if there was any more trouble. And we are way past that!”
Paula tapped her pen against her pad, adjusted her glasses, and looked at the man and woman sitting opposite her. She had dealt with many parents in her long career and was accustomed to encountering families in the strangest crises.
Few places in Scarabburgh were built for Atlas beetles. Rhino’s Pawn was no exception.
Calvin ducked through the door, taking care not to snag his horns—two on his thorax and one on his head—on the narrow, wooden frame.
A short rhinoceros beetle stood behind the counter, a ring through the horn on his head.
Recycle in five…
Tension claws at my shoulders. No matter how often I’ve done this—four times a day, five days a week, for sixteen years, but who’s counting?—I can’t get used to it. I wouldn’t want to.
Four…
Bodies pound on metal. Clang. Clang. Then harder. Clang! Clang! Then faster. Clangclangclang.
The Skyfolk held no ill will toward penguins. Why would they fear such harmless creatures? In Antarctica and elsewhere, penguins could approach the alien settlers without so much as a second glance.
Thus, the U.N. Military devised a cunning plan.
A human—myself, it turned out—would be mind-linked to an Emperor penguin via psionics.
His journey had been long and treacherous, but Cheddar had found it. An oasis, untouched by man, vast and plentiful. The wasteland of legends. A sprawling pile of rotten garbage more beautiful than all the dumpsters in Manhattan the day after Thanksgiving.
The Great Trash Barrier Island.
Cheddar the Rat wept at its filthy glory.
Sunday morning, Bobby Jo Evans walked into Raiders Donuts and bought every single old-fashioned, jelly, long john, and cruller in the establishment. Armed with her pocketbook and righteous conviction, she knew only two things could kill the holy fire on that sacred day: faith without works and church without donuts.
Read it now
I spent New Year’s Eve picking up my body parts from the sidewalk.
The streets were filled with people. It was dangerous to make my way through the crowd, but I wanted to get to the coffee house to ring in the New Year with some friends. When the old woman staggered towards me,
No one notices a lamp. Like, you wouldn’t look at the lamp in your living room and think, “Wow, I really need to watch what I say.”
Of course not. You’d say whatever the heck you wanted.
That’s why I’m currently on Senator Harold Altenstein’s coffee table, listening to him explain
“All right, Sire, the Kosimas will handle the ceremony. However, the treasury needs approval for banquet expenditures.”
Falton stared at fluttering drapes. Window’s closed though. Gelaid was literally driving him mad.
“Sire, the royal magistrate wants to discuss writs of authority, the speechwriter needs to meet. After that… Sire?
Falton fell face first on his bed.
The stout at the Crown is frothy and just a bit sweet. Not sure how many I’ve drunk, but tonight isn’t the night for counting. If I was sure there’d be beer in heaven, I might be elsewhere.
Aliens. The outer-space sort. Came down from beyond months ago and decided last week they’d play
Why, oh why, did the baby and the aliens have to come on the same night?
Joey crouched on the bathroom counter, heart racing. Purple light from the crocodile-shaped spaceship outside bathed the house in an eerie glow. Glass shattered in the kitchen. A scaled figure ripped open the refrigerator and hissed at its contents.
The oil rig’s platform shuddered and lurched into the air.
Matthew Finnburg the Third watched the earth fall away beneath them, then turned to his companion. “Xena, what is happening?”
Xena’s black eyes widened, then clenched shut as the platform picked up speed. Her slender arms quivered from her grip on the rail. “I couldn’t say, sir.”
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