I asked Mom once why I had an uncle but no aunt. I figured they were a bundle deal.
Mom said, “Your uncle has three defining characteristics: veiny biceps, chest hair, and a fanny pack full of beef jerky.”
I still don’t know which of those is the bad thing.
Dad was jolted awake and screamed. Then he screamed again, but differently.
Mom ran in. Dad lay face-down, groaning.
Little Samantha stood beside him, holding a sparking wire.
Dad raised his head, and Mom saw… a toddler’s face?
“Samantha, what did you do?!”
“I electrocuted him,” she grinned.
With their beady eyes and sharpened beaks, the old men from Startaria looked eerily birdlike. They were experts in appearance manipulation. Plastic surgeons and anthropologists from around the world spent lifetimes trying to learn the Startarians’ secrets.
But when questioned, the old men just made cooing sounds in their throats.
A man walked up to me in the park today and asked, “Are you eating that?”
I was confused. I wasn’t eating anything. I turned to him and said, “No.”
He promptly took a large bite out of my upper thigh and walked away.
I wish I had said “Yes.”
This guest story comes from Dave Eves, a soon-to-graduate film student and independent filmmaker.