It was Sun Day in Antarctica.
The penguins had been waiting all year to don their sunglasses, waddle out from their igloos, and flop onto their backs to catch a few rays.
Nearby, the evil communist polar bears peered through their binoculars, awaiting their leader’s signal.
Luckily, Pingu spotted them.
On Wednesday, Ned’s worst nightmare came alive.
He awoke, showered, dressed, and looked out the window, and that was when he saw the Abomination: it was a cow with the head and wings of a crow.
“Nooooo!!” he screamed. “How am I supposed to make a portmanteau out of that!?”
When Buster the puppy wasn’t sleeping, he was eating. When he wasn’t eating, he was playing. When he wasn’t playing, he was either sleeping or eating. He didn’t have a very complicated life, well, except on Thursdays, which was when he genetically engineered his super soldiers in the laundry room.
This story was based on a title suggested by @StoicRomance.
Gus poked his head into the fridge. There were three bottles of milk lined up on the top shelf. The label on the first one said, “Safe to Drink”. The label on the second one said, “Biochemistry experiment – poisonous!” The label on the third one said, “Other labels potentially backwards”.
The idea for this story came from a suggestion by @meur1234.
“Gimme the jelly beans!”
“I’m sorry, what?” I turned around. There was a person with a shotgun standing on the other side of the counter looking menacing.
“Empty out the jelly bean vending machine! Now!”
“Ok, ok!” I slowly stepped around the counter and did it.
He ate them all.
This story was inspired by @Ponza on Twitter.
Ecstatically they haul our creaking wooden horse to the center of their city. The molten sun cooks our hidden wooden womb while spitting sweat blinds us.
My beating heart embraces the huge coming of death that will bring an end to this, the greatest war the world has ever seen.
Mike Cahill is the President of www.futureknowledge.biz. He borrowed the title of this story from Plato.
The former mayor sat pouting in the gutter. “He’s hoodwinked them all with his luscious, bushy beard!” he muttered. “I must uncover his secret! But how?”
“Did somebody say ‘Butt Howe’?” wheedled a large rat wearing a silk top hat. “At your service!”
“You can help me?”
“For a price.”
This story is a sequel to this story.
“I’m sinking in the quicksand! Toss me a vine!”
“There aren’t any long enough to reach!”
“What about that one? It’s, like, seven feet long!”
She leapt for the vine, but there were too many walnuts on the ground, and she tripped on them.
His last words: “Worst. Vacation. Ever.”
This story was based on the following tweetful of suggestions from @KingKool: “Too many walnuts! The worst vacation! Seven feet long! Rapidly sinking in quicksand! Etc.”
“But I really need to go!”
“I’m sorry sir, but it’s in the contract you signed when you bought your ticket: no stops ’til we get to Vegas.”
“You can’t even pull over for a minute to let me pee?!”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Then I’ma use the window!”
“Very good, sir.”
This story is dedicated to the Desert Bus For Hope charity fundraiser marathon, which is raising funds for Child’s Play.
“Welcome to my laboratory!” cried Dr. Frankensteve enthusiastically, throwing open the doors to reveal a chrome-and-plastic jungle of sophisticated technology.
“More like la-bore-atory,” deadpanned his nephew, Eagor.
“Yes, that’s what I said. Laboratory.”
“Right, but if you emphasize the ‘bore’ part…”
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”