It was pure gasoline, tasted like cough syrup. This drink is making me question the universe and existence and why God would let this monstrosity live.
Last seen within the body of a drunken college-educated boy very early Sunday morning, right before said body's mouth bit into a block of uncooked Ramen noodles. Chicken dust packet was opened and slightly wet, though dust was nowhere to be found.
If the wind caught him right he could still smell her on his clothes. He wished he could destroy the wind.
I don't get what the big deal is. It's just a yellow star. I mean, it doesn't even do anything that cool. Nourishing a planet is cool? Naw, man.
I've sniffed this corner earlier today, and nothing has come of it, though I will check again later. Who made the markings on my wall?
The parking lot lights gave off enough for the guys to peer through the dusty windows and the old video drop-off slot. They could see that the aisles of shelves where they once found great N64 games, but the new movie shelves were long empty, and the blue countertops had lost their greasy sheen to grime after three long years of this old Blockbuster being shut down.
Nobody ever believes the most parsimonious explanation. Sometimes reality is much stranger than the speculative, though we rarely believe it. But what I am going to say is true. If you go far enough down the right county route, assuming you do not miss the turn-off through the woods, you'll find it. I'm humble enough to admit I had to go and see for myself. But they were fuckin' right. Get to the right petting zoo, and if they like the taste of your silver, they'll totally let you make out with the giraffe.
She loved the crisp fffffwwwwt as she turned the pages. The panels spoke to her.
Thanks for the text roomie! LOL :))) No, it’s totally cool that you’re moving out half way into the first month of the new lease.
There is a part of the world that has never seen daylight. Their skin has grown sallow and their eyes dimmed and deadened.
My father's nails are clean today. His hands rest on his chest, riding the movement of his shallow breaths. My father's nails are clean today. His hands rest on his chest, riding the movement of his shallow breaths.
He would always come into the coffee shop at 12:34pm. He ordered a black coffee, sat in the same corner and mumbled to himself.
I'll roll it through my street for the very first time, blasting the shit out of Grand Funk Railroad. Everyone will lower their sunglasses in awe, and my ice cream truck will rock so loudly, it'll shatter their aviators, but I've got some ice cream to make it all cooler!
Last year I went to the farmers market.
An old man gave me a sapling. Just gave it to me.
He claimed he was a mage.
I came to this fountain with my parental figures when I was 32 cycles. I don't remember much except that we weren't allowed to swim.
There is a dog that wanders our block. He neither barks nor bites. He just roams. His sad, blank eyes staring straight ahead. He doesn't acknowledge the children's attempts to feed him. No one has ever seen him poop.
At the crux of all dimensions and worlds there's this little hole in the wall. It's kind of hard to spot, but it's right about where everything folds in on itself, you know? The patrons named it God's Place and it seems to have stuck.