Two minutes later, the car was on fire.
“That’ll teach him,” grinned Jeff, phone to ear again.
“He’s cryin’!” laughed Turk from the other end, “Bet he wishes he paid up now!”
“Not so cocky without his precious blue Civic, is he?”
“Green Civic, dude. Green. The blue one’s mine!”
MCM is the author of The Pig and the Box and TorrentBoy: Zombie World, as well as the creator of the animated series RollBots. He is working towards certification for his insanity.
Sheila blinked as she awoke. The clock said six o’clock. Why wasn’t she tired?
Her husband and two daughters rushed in. “Happy Mother’s Day!” they shouted. “We brought you supper in bed!”
“Supper?”
“It’s six PM. We wanted to be original,” said her husband, brandishing a bottle of sleeping pills.
Whirring, spinning, and hissing, Cyborg George advanced towards the unimpressed heifer, who stood at the fence chewing her cud.
“This ends NOW!” cried George, cocking the shotgun mounted on his arm. He raised his metallic arm high. “NOW!”
As if on cue, a bolt of lightning burst from the sky.
“Life must have really sucked before we harnessed wormholes for space travel, ended poverty, and discovered telepathy,” thought Dangar, sitting in his bedroom on the third moon of Beta Centauri.
“It did,” thought his grandfather, lightyears away on Repsilon Nine. “But it was even worse before we built the internet.”
“I don’t get it,” said Kyle. “They walk across tight-ropes and swing around on bars and ride motorcycles and stuff, but where’s the rest?”
“What do you mean, ‘the rest’?”
“You know, the boss fights. The item gathering. The plot. This is the boringest platformer ever.”
“…We’re at a circus.”
“Evan,” said Timothy Thicke, “do you think these crazy spy games will ever end? Will we ever be free to walk openly in the streets? Will I ever be able to start a family?”
Evan Edgelow thought for a minute. “Yes to the first two questions. No to the third.”
With a bang, the door swung abruptly open.
She stood in the open doorway and said, “I’m home.”
He leaned against the wall. “I missed you.”
“I know,” she said. “But I didn’t miss you.”
“I know,” he said, clutching his heart as his handgun fell from his blood-soaked fingers.
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.
The entire town had gathered to witness the unveiling of a new method of execution.
A fine specimen of a man was watching with the others. He stood a head taller than anyone else in the crowd.
But after the Horizontal Guillotine malfunctioned, no one looked up to him anymore.
“The next shooter up is One-Eyed Joe, who has selected a well-balanced Luger handgun. Here he goes…
“Oh! Sorry folks, no luck yet.
“Now we have Drunken Donny Davis. He’s really waving that twelve-gauge around! Let’s see if he can put a hole in the broad side of the barn.”