“Ow! Oooooow!! Ouch! Ooh… Aah… Huuuaaaah… OH!! Woooow… Whoa! Aaaah! It burns! Eeeeek! Aaaaargh! Nyyyuuuurrgh… WWWAAAAAAAAUUGHH!! Hoooly mother of painburgersssss… GRROOOOAARGH IT HURTS SO BAAAAD!! No, why, why!?!? Ooow!! Never again! I swear on your grandmother’s grave if you ever even BHAAAAAUGH!!! OW OW OW!!”
“…I said I was sorry.”
It was Jasmine’s birthday.
“It’s my birthday!” said Jasmine.
She had been born seventeen years before.
“I was born exactly seventeen years ago!” said Jasmine.
Jasmine wanted to have a party.
“Yay!” said Jasmine.
“Darling,” said Jasmine’s mother, “your birthday is tomorrow. Go back to bed.”
“Oh,” said Jasmine. “Whoops.”
“We have to whack the President,” said Evan Edgelow.
“What?” said Timothy Thicke. “Barack Obama, the President of the United States?”
“No. The President of the Miley Cyrus Unofficial Fan Club. We have to hit him with a rolled up newspaper.”
“Huh? Why?”
“I don’t ask questions. Publicity stunt, probably.”
The first day of school was like a nightmare for Billington Washburn Crabcakes. He tried to make friends, but everyone wanted to know what his name was, and he knew that if he told them he’d be made fun of for always.
So he kept to himself and ate crayons.
He flourished like a magician, his red cape brilliantly catching the light.
She looked up, and he thought he saw the briefest of smiles before she hid again behind her coloured fan.
His heart swelled, his soul soared, and his lungs collapsed under the hooves of the unusually aggressive bull.
“Oh, come on, you’re pulling my leg…”
“I am not. It’s true!”
“If gasoline is really flammable, then why doesn’t my stomach explode? I’ve been drinking that stuff for years.”
“Well you’d need a spark to set it off.”
“Here, I’ll swallow a lit match to prove it.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
This story was inspired by a title supplied by @gameking128 on Twitter.
Trillions of stars exploded. At least, they tried to, but Physics said, “No you don’t, sillies. That’s not how it works. You have to become Red Giants first.”
But the stars decided they didn’t like Physics very much, so they stuck his head in a black hole and exploded anyways.
Sunlight crept over the misty vale.
A small, spotted fawn nuzzled its motionless mother. “Get up, mother!” it said, its tremulous voice full of worry as tears fell from its wide, innocent eyes. “Get up!”
“Shut up, Bambi,” said mother. “It’s, like, six o’clock… Can’t a doe get any rest?”
The gunshot rang through the crowded auditorium.
The bumbling magician’s assistant had shot him in the head, shattering the pane of glass placed between them, yet the magician was unhurt.
He didn’t know what to do next. Nobody would believe he’d really caught the bullet after he accidentally swallowed it.
This is the fifth in a series of five stories submitted by King Kool.
The bumbling magician’s new assistant scoured the city for a pair of fake legs for the classic “sawing a woman in half” trick. She compared mannequins’ legs to her own until she found a match.
Unfortunately, the magician hadn’t mentioned that he’d really wanted to saw her in half vertically.
This is the fourth in a series of five stories submitted by King Kool.