Groundhogs are the worst—but not for the reasons you might think. Sure, they’re annoying pests. And they have a talent for wrecking my yard and tearing up my carefully tended garden. But my hatred for the large rodent stems from something far greater: their deviousness.
It all started when Mayor Jones decided
“Hemorrhoids.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I buried my face in the menu. It wouldn’t be the first time my darling Joe had embarrassed me in an elegant restaurant like Tony’s. I’d just hoped our forty-ninth anniversary might be an exception.
“Hemorrhoids!” Joe announced. A few patrons side-eyed each other.
I lifted my face slightly and…
In my defense, when the aliens have the size and consistency of ketchup packets, it’s very easy to forget one in a flight suit pocket.
You know, that little bicep pocket where you stash the neural-connection ear buds?
On top of that, we’d been celebrating Zenibrian New Year—which is a pretty big deal…
I perched in the trees with my flock, waiting for the land walkers to leave. The tourists had nicknamed our home Murder Island ever since we chose to inhabit it. My name is Maximillian, but my crow brothers called me Boss.
Twilight painted the sky orange and pink as the last two…
Let me preface by saying I didn’t mean to get cursed into a dragon.
It just sort of happened. When your father wages a surprise attack against a rival enchantress queen, curses are bound to occur.
All in all, I thought my father got off easily. Invade a neighboring country, get a cursed son.
I leaned against the fence, my jaw hanging open. Am I dreaming or drunk? “Dr. Conley, you said you needed a sheepdog for your flock.”
He clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Exactly. From what I’ve heard, Mr. Ferguson, that border collie of yours is the best in the business.
When I was a kid, teleworking and remote learning didn’t exist. If the snow fell hard and fierce, we got a snow day. Meaning, no work for the grown-ups, no school for the kids. Heavenly bliss! That’s why, in 1983, I caused one of the biggest blizzards in New York City history.
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“My name is Jean-Luc Beaufoy. I am a vampire. I am old enough that it is impolite to ask how old I am, and these are my memoirs.”
I scowl at the words illuminated on the screen. What a boring way to start a story. Informative, yet lacks pizzazz.
Every January, for one week, the North Pole sleeps. Elf families tuck in with enough firewood to last, the kitchen elves pass out reheatable frozen meals prepared before the break, and if an elf so desires, he doesn’t have to see another soul for seven blissful days.
This is my favorite week…
My New Year’s resolution this January is the result of my last online hookup. It happened like this.
“So after my dad died, my stepmom started a housecleaning business with her daughters and me. I do vents and fireplaces because I’m good with cinders.” Ella smiled at me from the other side…
I’m sure as a child you heard one of the many versions of “Little Red Riding Hood” that circulate the globe. While most of them do introduce three true characters in that event—a girl cloaked in red, a nefarious wolf, and a sick grandmother—none of the tales you’ve heard include me.
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I have never lived through a wilder time than the summer when the guys of Mount Rushmore—George, Abe, Tommy, and Teddy—decided to form a boy band. I worked in the visitor center, and as far as any of us knew, the boys had never heard pop music. Yet one night Abe started belting out
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