Benjamin Chandler

Sean King

Jay Knowles

Jacob Sherman

Lauren Coles

Raj Chaklashiya

English

"Any man who wants to court me," said Anežka Szabová, "must 1st brush the teeth of Golgoraz the three-headed, nineteen-eyed, seven-tailed, triple-stomached, poison-breathing dragon of the Great Rozsutec Mountain." Martin Balog grabbed a toothbrush & toothpaste & said, "I'm game."

Martin’s best friend Gregor sighed. “Martin, a word? Yes she’s pretty. But this just weird. She wants you to risk your life just to be allowed to ask her on a date? High maintenance, buddy! Steer clear.” Martin frowned.

Martin steered clear of her like the Titanic steered clear of the iceberg, that is, not enough. And that’s with a red flag. He found himself walking up to that smoking hot blonde Gregor warned him about. “So hey,” he started, “so I wanted to, well…” Way to break the ice, Martin!

Martin was no Leo the Capricorn, and he most certainly wouldn’t be painting her like one of his French girls. The lady gave him the cold shoulder. Her heart would have gone on, if she had one. This wasn’t any ordinary fail, but a titanic one. Gregor patted Martin on the shoulder.

“There’s other girls” Gregor said as Tiffani Johnson walked into the lunch room.Tiffani made eye contact. Martin wanted to die of embarrassment

But surprisingly, Tiffani just giggled and popped by Martin. "Wanna eat lunch together?" she asked. Gregor's face turned white as Martin went from feeling embarrassed to feeling pleasantly surprised. "Sure!" Martin and Tiffani left the table to happily go eat together. THE END.

The Challenge of Love

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Keith Farquhar

I can’t drink anything else my body will be in bed for days.

You body will be in bed, but your mind will be traveling the astral plane. You’re going to travel a hundred light years.

Are you ready? Let's ride. See that twinkle of light on the left? Head towards that. Let it surround you, permeate you. Meld with it. No, it's not sexual, it's metaphysical. Honestly, can you not? You always turn everything pervy. I'm trying to expand your consciousness here.

“No because to me this is sexual. I don’t just need it surrounding me… I need that milk inside my body now!” And with that he began to drink all of the oat milk in the oat universe. “The realm of the oat is mine now!” “You fool! What have you done?! Now we are both doomed! Unless

we both transform into oat milk!" So that's what we did. We transformed into oat milk. Now we couldn't drink any more oat milk because it would be cannibalism. We were saved from the oat milk apocalypse. "What now?" he asked. "I guess we get drunk?" We laugh. Then we scream.

Finally, the door opened and the poor soul was picked up, taken into the bathroom, and provided digestive relief. When he finished, he struggled to speak—no one could hear him at first. Then, eventually, the words passed through his colorless lips: “oat milk from now on please.”

Sam Becker

How do you milk an oat?

How do you milk an oat?: Part II

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Douglas Driving

Eirin screamed while tears ran down her face. 'Help...Please'. Another nightmare. She gets these often. James was asleep beside her, but didn't hear her. What a heavy sleeper. Her nails dug into her arms as she continued screaming. 
Only now did James wake up.
(what does he do?)

James went back to sleep as mysteriously as he woke up beside Eirin. Eirin was confused--he had to have noticed that she was having nightmares. Why wasn't he helping? "James?" she asked nervously.

But James just lay there, silent on his side of his bed as if he was dead. For a second Eirin got worried that he actually was, until she heard him breath. She didn't want to provoke him further, so instead she left the bed to see if she could somehow cheer herself up.

Eirin made a cup of tea and dragged a heavy quilt onto their patio overlooking the trees in the valley. This perspective helped her feel centered, but James’s mood swings troubled her. “Is this PTSD, drugs, or something I did?” she thought. She heard him moving inside.

“No Erin, it’s totally just you being emotional!” He stated firmly. Erin was convinced he was in denial. James emerged from the tent and continued setting up the clothes line. His mind was fixated on the nightmares.“James chase me!” said Erin and she ran into the forest.

Erin felt her heart beat faster. James had to be stopped. There had to be police in the area. She peered out of the woods to see police officers take out handcuffs. In a matter of minutes the officers had James in custody.

James was telling me that I would pay for this. Then, sobbing and saying he's sorry The cop said "I'll walk away if you want to finish this?" I nodded. Handing me his gun and uncuffing him, I looked at James as I held the gun, and he quickly lunged at me. The gun went off...

The Ending Winter

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“I don’t want Gary on my team,” I said to my boss. “He takes his meetings from the gym, it’s disgusting!” “But he’s our top sales performer and we’re not making our numbers!” said my boss. “Fine,” I said. “Under one condition …”

You show him the ropes. I don’t want to be the reason I go out of business. Scott rubbed his hands-against the sides of his face.

Worried about what he was going to do to save his business. His phone was vibrating as he took it out of his pocket, the caller ID made him smile.

Jamie. His best friend. They have been friends ever since they were young, and she's helped him through a lot more than he could ever think of. He answered and she yelled through the phone: 
"Tenit you better run quick or I'll kill you!" She yelled his old nickname, laughing.

“How will you do that, Freeze Pop?” He laughed back at her, using her old nickname. “With one of your silent but deadly gas attacks?” Then the conversation alternated between laughter and fart sounds for the next 5 minutes.

NSFW

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Daenary BadKarma

Della Johnson

Joseph 'Zouk' Rogers

Gabriella Davison looks into the flower shop and turned her attention away. She didn’t have anybody to love. Who would love someone like her. She wished she wasn’t in a wheelchair.

Even though the incident happened more than 5 years ago, she had lost so much more than just the ability to walk. Sometimes it felt like not only her legs had been crushed, but also all her happiness and of course, the love of her life.

Let's go back 5 years to "The incident". It was the spring of 2018, me and my husband were in Kentucky, we are big fans of tree climbing. My favorite trees to climb were willow trees, so we flew by plane to Kentucky, where willow trees are abundant. I saw this huge tree...

But it wasn't the tree that I remembered most. It was the bird that perched on one of the branches. Plumage of red and gold sprouted from its head. It lazily spread its wings and I swear I heard it speak. "It's time," it squawked, before launching into the air and flying away.

I twirled around to see the last leaf fall from the once magnificent tree. Where it fell, a massive fissure opened up on the forest floor. "Take me with you!" I cried futilely at the bird. It stared down with an uncaring gaze as I—and every nearby creature—was swallowed whole.

Birds of Paradise

Brayden S

William III Farquhar

“Father?” Asked Tiny Tim who was on the shoulders of his overworked and underpaid dad; Bob Cratchit as they walked home from their daily Sunday’s at church. “Do you think we might be able to try a turkey one christmas day?”

"Maybe," said Bob, "if one of your songs becomes a number 1 hit." Tiny Tim took that to heart, laboring day & night on his little ukulele. Finally, he had a song he was proud of. At the recording studio, Bob looked at the song's title as Tim prepared—"Tiptoe Through The Tulips"

And surprisingly enough it was a big hit. 15 weeks in the top 10. A best selling record. Ukulele sales quadrupled. But the strangest thing was that “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” became a perennial favorite. Year after year, people couldn’t get enough of it!

It is what draws people in. People don’t want to come something boring. Ukuleles bring people together. This is what people need right now.

The council looked down on the musicians. “We have seen the error of our ways,” the grayest turkey uttered in a gravelly voice. “Today will henceforth be known as Ukulele People’s Day.” There was cheering, followed by many, many off key notes. Luckily, turkeys have poor hearing.

An Odd Twist

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Hannah lew

Davide .

It was a beautiful day all around the world. down in Italy charlie was cursing Americans while eating cookies with farty the cow as his own mother did not want to hear this at 7 am. and far away in Central America, in cuba che guevara was doing the same.

Charlie never liked to wake up early but it was a special day: he was leaving for his exchange year! Charlie got up and grabbed his busby and put it on his hairball. "Bye mom xoxo, i'll send you postcards from Habana!" he screamt. So he got on his pizza magic capert and flow away

to Habana ooh na na, half of his heart is in Habana ooh na na, he died of a broken heart. Just kidding. He landed on the sandy shores of Habana and began his exchange. All the sights and sounds he took in, though the people laughed at his busby. “Haven’t you seen fashion before?”

He proudly displayed his hat with its Snagglepuss pattern. "I call it Habana Barbera style." "I call it copyright infringement," she sniffed. He was hurt. He'd spent 3 weeks drawing & redrawing that pink puma on his busby. "Exit, stage right," he voiced & shuffled down the beach.

He was sadly shuffling down the beach when his hat blew off his head and landed in the surf. Then he was hit with a revelation: he could draw his own original characters! He’d start with a blue rabbit with 3 ears!

He was a artist. He named his character mr. Sprinkles. Then he draw Henry the turtle. Then Ellie the fox

Soon there was a menagerie of well-drawn characters. "What should I call you, my darlings?" the artist wondered aloud. They thought and thought and were about to give up when suddenly, inspiration struck: Animal Sundae. A home for turtles, sprinkles, and the occasional fox.

Mr. Sprinkles on the Pizza Magic Carpet

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Emily J

Willi ray2w

Vanessa Barton dreamed of seeing her father who was in the military. It had been almost a year. It was the only thing that she wanted this year. She was at airport but didn’t see him. “Where is he” she asked.

Vanessa stood on tiptoes peering around heads taller than she. Finally! Her father emerged from the gate. She didn’t rush forward though. She barely recognized him and didn’t know what to think. What happened this past year? What did the Army do to him?

Well quite a lot. He rolled forward on his wheelchair, clutching a jug of milk. “Hello, Vanessa.” “Daddy!” she squealed, rushing towards him, “You’re back!” “Aye,” he wiped a tear from his eye, “I’m back from Afghanistan.” “You got the milk… but at what cost?” “An arm and a leg.”

“So, um, Daddy? I strongly prefer oat milk now.” she said, looking down. “I’ve been through hell to get you this pasteurized 2% cow’s milk”, he said. “I nearly died.” They both sighed, in a way that suggested neither expected the other to give any slack.

A chickadee chittered outside. Little did the two know that it had been watching them. Even less did the father & daughter know that the bird was a fairy once spurned by the father's grandpa. She had cursed him, "For 10 generations may your family lose limbs & lactose tolerance!"

As the curse went down from limb to limb. He grows tired and goes to sleep, the next day he finds himself limbless, but did not lose his lactose intolerance, as he sat there with no limbs, and a gurgling stomach asking for a bathroom

Kevin Randles

Let’s go back to the beginning. My name is… well, that’s not important. I don’t quite know who I am, so what’s the point of identifying myself? Anyway.

Hi! My name is… what? My name is… who? My name is chikka chikka Slim Shady. Excuse me, can I have the attention of the class, for one second. Hi kids! Do you like violence? Wanna see me stick nine inch nails through each one of my eyelids?

“NOOOOOOO!”, the children responded with a unified shout. Mr. Mathers looked surprised. He had clearly misunderstood the format of the show. Yo Gabba Gabba never aired the clip.

This was supposed to be on Friday’s broadcast I was so dead. “Mia a voice said. I might as well pack my things now

I was late, and this time there'd be no last minute fixes or clever hijinks. I blew it. The producer pointed to the door and mouthed the words: get out. "Come on," I said to the army of show cats at my feet. We missed our fifteen minutes of feline fame.

How do you get to purrrnegie hall?

She was scared to death. Nobody has ever talked to her like that.

Which might seem strange for someone born in 1990, until you realize that she hadn’t seen, heard, or read a single advertisement ever before in her life. How is that possible, you ask? Simple:

She lived under a rock! With no TV! And she never went out once. Personally I envy her, I wish I wasn’t bombarded with commercial placements here, there and everywhere…

And so she stayed under her rock, enjoying the dark coziness. Occasionally a worm would squeeze in & tell her news from outside. It was interesting to hear about the sky & rain & General Tso's chicken, but she was too scared to leave her hole. Then one day a very strange message

came in her hole. She grasped the rolled up letter and unrolled it, revealing the words “Come out”. She had been waiting for this day for years. Today, she can finally express herself for who she was without shame, without… oh. It meant to say that that quarantine has ended.

But could she trust the note? After all these years of neglect and abuse? She cracked open one last can of Sofa Cola™, put on her mask, and opened the door. "Had enough rock?" a booming voice inquired. "Yes," she said, surprised by her confidence. She exited the store with poise.

Reluctantly, she opened the door to the pantry—a place she seldom visited—and a wall of Sofa Cola™ crashed over her. “You ready to rock?” she scarcely heard from a corporate Sofa Cola musician, who continued without waiting for a response, “then drink up and take a seat!”

A Hot Slice of Heartbreak

A Hot Slice of Heartbreak: Part II

Yolanda W

Pennywise  

Abbey loves books and always wanted to be a writer. This poetry workshop was going to be awesome if not for Joel green.

Joel green, the mean machine, long and lean and full of spleen. Yes, he is pretentious enough that he only capitalizes his first name. He wears green track suits every day. His specialty is poems about potted herbs. The crazy thing? The critics EAT IT UP.

The brownies. Green eggs and ham, with spam, with fruit jam. They were laced. Then they crash in their chair afterwards, thinking thoughts they wouldn’t have thought low. Joel green, like a bean, never clean but often seen, peeling off a tangerine while dancing with a tambourine.

They could taste colors, smell darkness, hear the voices of the candles burning on the coffee table. "Woah," said Abby. "Yeah," said Grant. Slowly the buzz of the brownies faded away and the world seemed duller. Abby and Grant looked at each other. "Wanna go again?"

“Heck yeah!” Replied Abby. But little did she know she was about to go one brownie too far.
She scoffed it down all in one and the next thing she knew she was waking up in a cold, damp alley face down in a manhole laden in cuts and bruises. She was too weak to move.

"Ma'am?" I grunted in response. "Are you alright? Do I need to call an ambulance?" I barely lifted my head and squinted at the man, puzzled. "Where am I?" "Downtown, ma'am." "No, what time am I?" "I'm sorry?" the man looked disturbed. "The year?" I say, rolling over. "2082."

One Brownie Too Far

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Adia Reynolds

Sam Heller

Emma wiped the dust off her pants. I was just going to go through some things up in the attic. Grandma was a pack rat. I know that she was your mother but I bet you are happy that she is gone

off to the retirement community in Florida. She can play golf, or bingo, or swim in the pool if she likes. But she left all this junk for us to deal with. There are a few treasures in this attic, so we’ll have to go through the boxes carefully.

This box is filled with 13 different air fryer cookbooks. Does she even have an air fryer? Here are my old toys. Snuffles, my old stuffed elephant! She told me she threw him away! A broken lamp...toss that. But what's this? A crate full of books with her name. She wrote a novel?

“The Little Air Fryer”, “I Believe I Can Fry”, and many other novels. All about air fryers! She dedicated her whole life to air fryers ever since the day of its invention, truly the best invention, since sliced bread! If you don’t get it, well… Clearly you don’t own an air fryer.

But who needs an air fryer when you have a deep fryer? What does an air fryer fry? Air? And what do toasters toast? Toast? As an Italian plumber once said, “All toasters toast toast.” Miss that guy. But I digress. Speaking of novels on air fryers, the writer now released a book —

‘Air Fryer’s 101’. To which I scoffed to myself. See the thing is, gadgets have become far too complex nowadays. What’s wrong with normally frying something. God forbid if I ever showed a youth a frying pan, they’d probably ask me “Where’s the on button?”. But anyway I continued

"How hard could it be?" I chuck the instructions to the counter. It slides off and into the trash, and I couldn't care less. I crack my knuckles, "Home made french fries here I come."

The first step was arguably the easiest. I gathered all the ingredients: Potatoes, oil, salt, and ketchup for later. Next I began peeling the skin off the potatoes, I had seen my father to this plenty of times. Of course, he was a three star chef.

The following step was where things got substantially more difficult—the start of the ritual. I placed the skinned, oiled, and salted potatoes in a circle around the dog, then drizzled the ketchup across them. The dog whimpered longingly at the potatoes surrounding her.

I chanted the ancient words that would bind the dog's soul to mine. Her snout elongated, her fur receded, then, miraculously, standing before me was my long lost sister. It made so much sense—tater tots were her favorite food. We hugged and cried amidst the smell of fried spuds.

A puppy with brown fur greeted the woman and jerry. The puppy licked their face. The dog name was lucky

Night Owls

Night Owls: Part II

Leyre g

Jayla did as she was told. Jazz was her favorite music.

So she practiced, man. And she dug. She dug all the cats. Dug and practiced, living eating sleeping Jazz. She took her trumpet and a duffel bag and headed west on the bus. She wanted to walk the streets Chet Baker walked on.

At famous LA jazz clubs like The Haig & Tiffany Club, she would sit in the back shadows, listening, fingertips sliding against the condensation on a cold glass of tonic water sweating a ring into the tablecloth. When she felt confident, she would hum along, thinking no one heard.

“Will you cut it down, your humming sucks!” a voice came from the room. She immediately stopped humming, and at the same time jazz music stopped. She gingerly drank her water.

Trying not to make too much of a scene, which she clearly had already, she got up from her chair - trying her very best not to scrape it along the floor she headed to the toilets. As she flung open the door…

There was a lady behind the door who had been so frightened that she dropped her bag with many spoons that made a lot of noise when they fell. After the noise, she ran out into the street in a direction she didn't even know.

Zoe Becker

Jerry glanced down at the photograph in his hand, then back up again at the woman sitting alone at the back of the cafe.

“I can believe that I’m going to meet my biological mother”. Jerry said.
The woman was reading a book.

All at once a blinding light coursed through the space. Jerry and the woman froze. And then a creature appeared, seemingly from the air itself.

Lauren Coles
@laurencoles

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Lauren Coles@laurencoles

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