Posts Categorized “Standalones”
Mr. Mannequin was not a particularly outgoing person. He was more concerned with the latest fashions than with making social contact. He was content to let others pass by and stare–in jealousy of his fine wardrobe, he was sure.
On Wednesdays, he tidied his master’s secret laundry-room genetic engineering laboratory.
“You fool of a henchman!” cried the criminal overlord, with a mighty sneeze. “I’m allergic to cats!”
“But he’s such an itty bitty pretty kitty, isn’t he? Such a cutesy snootsy bittle snookums…”
“You fool!” cried the criminal overlord, with a mighty cough. “I’m even more allergic to lovey-dovey gibberish!”
Her works were renowned throughout the world. She was a teenaged aardvark sculptor, the greatest that ever lived. She worked with stone, ice, and clay: every medium was her domain, subject to her whims.
She hid in anonymity, each masterpiece a portrait of self-loathing, of her wish for human form.
His mighty lungs seethed with an expansive power that rivaled the greatest operatic diva. His inhalations were vortexes. His exhalations were hurricanes.
His breath was like clockwork, a regular, rhythmic, unceasing alternation of perfectly balanced forces.
It was this, alas, that caused his tragic drowning death in the kiddie pool.
Todd had several seconds to contemplate the feeling of free fall. He was surprised to find that he hadn’t passed out. Maybe he was braver than he’d thought!
The instructor joked, “What would you do if our parachute didn’t open?”
The rest of the descent was warm, wet, and awkward.
Once there was a village of Happies. They loved life!
But the mean Slappies bullied the Happies until they became Unhappies.
One of the Happies awoke the wise Nappies. The Nappies gave some puppies to the Slappies, who loved them so much that they became Sappies.
Then everyone was happy!
Priscilla the porcupine kept a tidy house. She dusted regularly and opened the windows so she could smell the lavender in the garden.
Hers was an idyllic home.
On Tuesdays she flew a flag and shot at the tax man. The one thing Priscilla loved more than tidiness was freedom.
Slithering, sliding, slipping… Rory the ravenous raccoon eased his way through the gap under the newly painted fence with a patience that belied his urgency.
There! He was through, and scampering into the safety of the woods.
They found Elvis dead that morning. The orange paw prints were never reported.
“Eat your rice pudding, young man!”
“I don’ wanna!”
“Eat it all up, or you won’t get any ninja turtles!”
“But Mooooooooooom…”
“I’ll tell the store to never let you have a Donatello ever!”
That did it. Little Billy ate rice pudding every day for the rest of his life.
“Ha!” scoffed Mr. Yugin. “My powers are at least three times greater than your own. Your most powerful attacks are as nothing to me!”
“Oh really? But you haven’t seen my most powerful attack yet!” said Guko with a grin.
“Whaaat!?!?” cried Mr. Yugin.
Guko raised his spirit-laser super sword.