The day after the day all the fruit disappeared, I broke into a grocery store in the middle of the night. It was a ghost town: the empty aisles were strewn with plastic bags lit by ghastly signs declaring, “We Still Have Vegetables!”
The Vitamin C pills were already gone.
“Aaaaah! A zombie!”
The room full of business executives burst into chaos as the fatcats scrambled for the exits.
“Wait!” called the zombie. “I’m not like those horror-movie zombies! I don’t want to hurt you!”
Everyone froze in astonishment. Then:
“Aaaaah! A talking zombie!”
The zombie sighed. “Theodore was right…”
They ran through the forest, fishing poles slapping against their back. They ran as fast as possible, each trying desperately to edge past the other. They looked around and, seeing a suitable tree, began to climb. They sat at the very top; laughing and smiling.
But the bears could climb.
J.M. Valentino likes to take time between being an international man of mystery and bagging the hot green alien chick to write. More of his work can be found at www.irregularreading.blogspot.com.
“Finally!” complained Fluffy the cat in the softly exasperated voice of a young mother. “The kittens are down for nap time. All they ever do is eat, sleep, and whine!”
Mittens, her husband, mewed appreciatively. “What should we do with our free time?”
“Grab a snack and get some shuteye.”
Martin was my worst friend. You know how some people say they have a “best” friend? Martin was the opposite of that. Like, if “BFF” means “Best Friends Forever”, then I’d call Martin my “WFFA”: Worst Friend For Always. That’s how much I didn’t like him.
Couldn’t really say why.
“I’m an utter failure,” moaned Willy the possum. “If only I had gone to the Interstate with my brother Ben. I could’ve really been somebody!”
Willy flopped down beside a pothole on the back-country road and sighed wretchedly. “Goodbye, Linda.”
Perhaps symbolically, the truck driver didn’t even notice the bump.
Vigafray suggested the title this story was written for. I interpreted it as a play on the classic, erm, play, Death of a Salesman, which I’ve never actually seen or read. Maybe that’s why this story is so depressing and not funny. I don’t know. So sue me. The lack of humor in this story is just another in my long line of failures and uselessnesses. (Heh, there are so many “S”es in “uselessnesses”. Hee hee.)
“First, we take the deadly iocaine powder and stir it into the jug of fruit punch. Now, we dip the carrot into the mixture, and… Voila! Look closely, but do not inhale!”
“Isn’t this kind of dangerous?” asked one of the students.
“Good Science is always dangerous,” intoned Professor Westley.
This story was based on the title, as suggested by @LaurenceFawkes via Twitter.
My wife and I had an argument. She wanted to spend a hundred bucks each on opera tickets, and I wanted to play World of Warcraft.
The argument lasted for days, and neither of us would budge.
In the end, we compromised. I went along, but I brought my netbook.
This story was based on the titled as submitted by @Wo0t via Twitter.
Well, this was certainly a surprise. Then again, he should have known it might happen. Things like this were always happening to him.
But still, it would have been nice to have had a bit of a heads-up this time. If he had known, he probably would have worn pants.
Amy Townsley is a mother of two originally from California but now living in Utah. She is currently a student at Weber State University studying English. She hopes to go on to pursue a MFA in Creative Writing and take a serious stab at this writing thing she has been flirting with for years.
“Who do you think would win in a fight, Luke Skywalker or Aragorn?”
“What kind of stupid question is that?”
“How about Gandalf versus Darth Vader?”
“I’m not even going to acknowledge anything so dumb.”
“R2D2 versus Gollum?”
“Try this one: my boot versus your butt.”
Surprisingly, the butt won.