“I honestly thought it was a typo,” explained Paul, as he smoothed the rumpled map over the rough planks of the bridge, pointing to the label he had—up until about five minutes ago—assumed to mean “Toll Bridge”.
“Sorry. I can’t read, either,” said the troll, and ate him.
Jeremy Petter is a writer, actor, and editor for LoadingReadyRun, an online sketch comedy troupe with four regular series on The Escapist.
When the doorbell rang, Jeannie was in the shower. Forty-seven seconds, three somersaults, and a double backflip later, she was holding Cobra Pose in the front hallway, her copy of Robertson’s Ultimate Guide to Ninja Home Defense peeking from her bathrobe pocket.
These days, one could never be too careful.
Tally Heilke works with LoadingReadyRun, an online sketch comedy troupe with four regular series on The Escapist, and also maintains a crafting blog and two Etsy stores (Tally’s Treasury and Tally’s Bestiary).
His letter ended: “And so, glorious friend, I hope that my $33 Million will be safe with you. Awaiting your reply.”
He pressed send.
The Nigerian prince sat back in his chair and sighed. Some day, he hoped, he would find someone with whom to share his vast inheritance.
Some day.
Graham Stark is a co-founder of LoadingReadyRun, an online sketch comedy troupe with four regular series on The Escapist.
We called the dog El Pancho. I never knew why. Maybe it was the weird brown spot on his back. He had two lame legs and always smelled like rotting cheddar, and sat at the flagpole every day after school, but no one ever came.
One day, neither did he.
John Funk is Games Editor at The Escapist, and has been gaming and writing for most of his life thus far. He has far too many plastic robot models on his desk at work and thinks those dirty Horde can go jump off a bridge.
“Hmmm, haven’t been flossing?” questioned the dentist.
I became increasingly more uncomfortable in the chair as she continued looking at my teeth.
“And you didn’t get her flowers for your anniversary?”
How could she know that? How?
“How… how did you know?”
“I’m your dentist,” she said. “I know everything.”
Justin Boyd draws LeftHandedToons, a fantastic webcomic drawn by right-handed artists with their left hands, along with Drew Mokris. LHT updates every weekday, and is the funniest comic drawn left-handed by right-handers on the internet.
Editor’s Note: I didn’t ask, but I’m assuming he wrote this with his left hand, which just makes it that much awesomer.
I am the Six-Year-Old Batman.
I swore an oath on the grave of my tummy I would rid the kitchen of semi-sweet chips melted in crispy, chewy batter. By day I have a million open-air playdates. By night? I am the bib-caped crusader.
Cookies are a cowardly and superstitious lot.
Woody Tondorf is a writer/director living in Los Angeles. His newest series on Hulu, The Morning After, can be seen in every country that ends in “States of America.” For everyone else, there’s youtube.com/elevatorshow.
The wind blew through the trees as the rain pelted down, streaming off the slate roofs, cascading like four waterfalls into the waterlogged courtyard. Three feet deep, and the living room had started to flood.
Janey looked to Max, the brilliant, infallible architect, and scowled.
“You’re kinda stupid, aren’t you?”
MCM is the creator of the award-winning series “RollBots” as well as the author of many books, including “Typhoon”, “Fission Chips” and “The Vector”, all of which were easier to write than this story. You can read and buy his writing at http://1889.ca.
He knew it was a blessing to be special, to stand out, but sometimes it could be very isolating. Though surrounded by a sea of people, he felt alone, like a cabbage in a field of lettuce.
Plus this old Ukrainian lady kept trying to make soup out of him.
This story is based on a title suggested by @KatieInTheAttic.
Every night, Reginald tossed and turned in his bed, covering his ears with his pillow, but the slurping and sipping and smacking just wouldn’t stop.
He never said anything, though; the rent was too good to risk a conflict.
He eventually began to wonder about all the “Missing Pet” posters.
This story was based on a title suggested by @ugotpauld.
She shrieked as a horrible, misshapen little creature squirmed out of her grocery bag and flopped itself, half-formed lungs heaving, onto the floor.
Kill it! cried her husband, but pity stayed her hand.
A bond formed between them,
and though it was built on only moments,
it lasted;
it remained.
This story was based on a title suggested by @vxicepickxv.