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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.
“Sleep. Don’t cry. There is nothing you can do.
“They are gone, never to return. We cannot bring them back, and I am sorry, but you must live with that.”
That’s what she said, but today they died, and I will cry with the rain.
Today I am an orphan.
“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.
Was it left first, and then right, or was it right first? Hmm. Let’s try left first. Lift; swing forward; now what? Heel or toe? How was this thing supposed to bend?
No matter how much he practiced walking, Sully couldn’t help but feel that he was doing it wrong.
It didn’t take long for Mr. McFitzwilliamson to prove that swimming in a pool full of coins didn’t work. A pool of twenty-dollar bills left him covered in paper cuts.
So he melted down all of his loonies and swam in that.
He’d never really understood the laws of thermodynamics.
He’d purchased the seventy-five foot yacht on a whim. With a fortune like his, such a toy was a trifle.
The first time he took it out, he “accidentally” ran over three sailboats and threw some lawyers overboard to handle it.
Bartholomew Regis Alberto Tanardier never thought about his initials.
She was charming, witty, intelligent, and beautiful. I had to ask her out.
“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t do that.”
“Ah. Boyfriend?”
“It’s not that. I’m an NPC. I’m not programmed to move from this spot.”
I paused, stunned. “Oh. That’s terrible.”
She nodded slowly. “I really have to pee.”
Editor’s note: An NPC, or non-player character, is a computer-controlled character in a video game.
It was a dark and stormy night.
Good thing I’d brought my flashlight and umbrella. Man do I hate being wet. It’s pretty much the worst. I’d rather be sunburned a hundred times than have to go slogging through the rain. At least it’s warm.
Nothing interesting happened that night.