He defended himself the only way he knew how: intimidation was his only real weapon.
“Boogidy boo!” he cried, arching his shoulders and spreading his arms to make himself look bigger.
The kitten mewled. It was blind, so it couldn’t see his Intimidation Pose anyways.
But the grizzly bear could.
The blizzard worsens. I can’t believe I’ve slept. Did not want to wake.
Thinking of my mother, Caroline, and my dear Etta.
I won’t see them or the Terra Nova again.
My mind’s made up.
I am just going outside and may be some time.
Dedicated by the author to Captain Lawrence E.G.Oates, 6th Inniskilling Dragoons.
Died March 1912.
“You’re my favourite, but she is my most favourite!”
“Now Jeffy, what have I told you about picking favourites?”
“Always be ready to change my mind, and it’s ok to make more than one person think they’re my favourite as long as they don’t both find out?”
“That’s my boy!”
She was surprised by how well her product was selling. She had expected to get support from the feminist crowd, perhaps some attention in the local media, but instead she saw significant, straightforward financial success.
What the creator of Deter-Gent man-repelling laundry soap hadn’t anticipated were all the male purchasers.
When he got his Visa bill, his eyes popped out of his skull.
They literally fell right out. We aren’t sure if something on the bill caused it, or if the two events were unrelated. All we know is that his eyeballs ended up on the floor.
It was gross.
Endless golden sands; a beautiful horizon. The sound of the bus trundling through the desert is as entrancing as it is monotonous.
The bus is boiling. Bill wipes sweat from his glistening brow, his orange hair sticking to his forehead.
Only the thought of his mum can keep him going.
Carmen “Checky Girl” Cousens sent in this story in response to a call for Desert Bus-themed stories during Desert Bus For Hope 2010, a fundraiser for Child’s Play.
I think I will write a story today.
Words to paint glowing meanings in which I’ll revel,
Using verbs and nouns, adjectives as well,
Fiction or truth, a story of many words I’ll tell,
To keep me happy, as hours to days will swell.
Oh, there is no ink! No stories today.
Gloria was a performer. She’d known it since the day she’d somersaulted out of the egg and into the fish tank with a brilliant smile and a saucy wink.
Now she performed synchronized swimming routines for the world-famous aquatic circus. With fame came fortune: she dined on caviar most evenings.
He let the stresses of life bleed off and burn away, leaving behind only his inner self.
Trapped inside his shell, life was difficult, but that was why, once a week, he removed his bodiless brain from his metal-and-plastic body, soaked in some formaldehyde, and just relaxed for a while.
I consider this story an informal companion to Like Inside-Out Acupuncture.
She sneezed into her elbow and wrinkled her nose.
“Blurgh, so gross” she said.
She couldn’t know that the contents of her nasal evacuation had contained a microscopic anti-viral agent, which attacked and destroyed a potentially human-eradicating new virus that had begun to grow on her sleeve.
Lucky for us, eh?
Full disclosure: I’m reading a Tom Clancy novel that involves an Ebola outbreak. Yikes!