A Stupid Story

Today at work I had a horrible day from the beginning to the end I get up and eat breakfast. I start eating my cereal and I start to choke on a sticker of hitler taking a selfie (A Selfie a picture all by yourself of course with my genius brain I made that up but I feel like that won’t turn into a big thing) that me and a couple others proganded. I spit it out , consequently, I barfed in my cereal which made me go and buy more cereal. Hideki Tojo and Joseph Stalin was in the pitcher with hitler. I took a pital and I was alright so I started on my project that I hope one day it will become one of the best cartoons ever made. “Commando Duck”. It is a cartoon about Donald Duck vs. the Japanese. So far I’ve managed

Dahlia’s staggering around like a drunk person. She hugs a tree for support. When I ask

I had prepared myself for weeks for the wake up call. I had assembled my horse as well and tonight was the night for a midnight ride to the place. I ran out the door in boots and my night wear. I jumped and swung my leg over the horse and fixed the musket strap to settle across my shoulder. I pressed my heels into her side and she took off. I rode my horse as fast as I could, my heart beating fast. I had been trained for this. I had my muskett by my side loaded and ready for a shot.

answered the phone with the same uninterested drone, himself a day laborer. He stuffed his cigar in his mouth to free his hand and showed three fingers. His hand signal started a chain of activity on the benches with each man sliding down to fill the vacant seats. He wrote the address on a worksheet and gave it to the three next in line. He returned behind his newspaper as they walked out the door. Billowing cigar smoke rising above the desk was a sign of him.

He took in the calm look on the man’s face, the way his high cheekbones were beautifully illuminated in the orange glow of road lights- making him look almost otherworldly. The faint uptick at the corner of Stu’s lips, the way his stupid blue hair lightly blew with the aircon, the way he drummed his long fingers absently on the steering wheel were inescapable- Murdoc knew.

“What do we have to do Austin? What’s this business all about? I wanna court Ms. Ellis and your interrupting me. Some friend you are. Can’t even let an Ol’ man have some fun.” Jess said. “We do have business Jess. If you’ll remember, last night we had a hell of a camp fire and somebody’s gonna be asken’ where the Wilson brother’s bodies are. We’re gonna have a talk with the Sheriff. Then we’re gonna give our ladies some special treatment.” “Oh, now that’s different. I knew you liked Lena.” Jess said as he slapped Austin’s shoulder. “I don’t and what do you mean like Lena? Besides those aren’t the ladies I’m speaking of. I mean Madame and Twighlight. Remember?” “Oh yeah, of course. I knew that.” Jess said. Then mumbling to

She'd been in his apartment a matter of minutes, and Elena was already naked and about to drop to her knees to blow him. Brett felt a touch guilty as his erection throbbed in his pants. Not accustomed to paying for sex, even though there was a purpose behind it on this occasion, it didn't sit well. Nor did the knowledge that the girls dates usually accompanied them to a gala event that under other circumstances they'd never access to, or at least wined and dined them first. Sex was, of course, expected, but only as dessert rather than the entree itself. Brett was also a man who liked to take his time and ensure the women enjoyed the experience as much as he did.

Sick fate, twisted punishment for something they must have done in order to wind up somewhere so terrible as this cement prison. Humans were cruel… Poking and prodding at open wounds and making new ones were old existed. It felt like years in this personal hell. Most of the time the young creature stayed tucked in the very corner as far as he could get from the outside for it was the inside for them. Fear dripped from his body in waves nearly as thick as syrup. He was scared and he had every right to be. Watching them murder so many… The images have haunted him since the night it had happened. Blood… Gunshots… Thoughts eased into his mind like a bad dream, making everything a dark place he couldn’t hide from. Mother… Father… People

Sweeter words, Carl Dupont had never heard, and when Cassidy screamed and lunged out of her chair, the man didn't move an inch or bat an eyelid. Instead, he remained motionless, with a smirk pasted across his features, and cold blue eyes following his victim as the bailiff's dragged her away. He'd warned her not to testify and, in the end, his Lawyer had come through. An improper search meant all physical evidence had been ruled inadmissible and without that, Cassidy's testimony was useless. There'd be no re-trial, Carl was a free man.

Kohen removed the Casimir effect plates and unplugged the Hawk-flow regulator, now the tricky part he thought

Smelling stale and musty, a thin layer of dust covered every shelf and the books that it held. Snow rested on the window sills letting a small amount of light in, while above fluorescent lights flickered on occasions. Down a little way there was a light humming letting indicating that one was potential going to go.

I hung my jacket on the hook and sank back down into my chair to open the bag from the deli. Instantly, the room was filled with the smell of savory bacon, fresh Italian bread, and sweet citrus. I took out the sandwich and sunk my teeth into the wonderful combination of lettuce, tomato, and bacon. I finished my sandwich, and was ready to move on to the orange when

The possession also allowed the Host to harness and use the limited technology of the Gods. Although not as powerful as an incarnated Angel in his prime, his dying avatar wouldn’t stand a chance in battle against the Nekrums’ Host.

slightly open, holding their cups of tea with both hands, like children mirroring one another.

… I was making my bed, having received strict orders from Bessie to get it arranged before she returned (for Bessie now frequently employed me as a sort of under-nursery maid, to tidy the room, dust the chairs, etc.). Having spread the quilt and folded my night-dress, I went to the window seat to put in order some of the picture books and doll’s house furniture scattered there; an abrupt command from Georgiana to let her playthings alone (for the tiny chairs and mirrors, the fairy plates and cups, were her property) stopped my proceedings; and then, for lack of other occupation, I fell to breathing on the frost- flowers with which the window was fretted, and thus clearing a space in the glass through which I might look out on the grounds,