Brayden Saucier

Jacob Sherman

Sean King

Emily J

Sam Becker

English

The world ended at midnight, that was what most people agreed to although there weren’t many people left in the world at the moment. It ended when there wasn’t screams of terror or pain, but with screams of happiness as billions around the world gathered to watch the countdown

timer tick down. “Five… four… three… two… one! HAPPY NEW LIFE!!!” everyone cheered, as the sky filled up with colourful bursts of light - no, not fireworks - nuclear bombs. The whole world stood together united in one faith, knowing they’re all headed to a better place very soon…

Except for roughly 1200 people watching from orbit. They were the result of a huge effort with the goal of building a self sufficient colony off Earth. They watched the “fireworks” below and knew they they were truly on their own.

“Our timeline just moved up 25 years,” I said. “What do you mean?” asked the governor. “Orbiting a dead planet, no new materials…technology…” I answered. The governor stammered, “This wasn’t the plan—“ “It doesnt matter! Earth is gone. We have no choice now but Proxima Centauri.”

A hush spread across the room. The obvious correctness of my statement echoed around the control deck. Two troopers escorted the beleaguered governor out. The rest of us stared off into space, contemplating the multi-year journey, conjuring hope in a desolate space.

New Year

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Garrett Lowe

A child sits by a creek in the middle of the forest with beautiful, glowing blue butterflies flittering around. How did she get here? She didn’t remember wandering this far from home. In fact, she didn’t remember leaving home at all!

The butterflies flew around the child faster, and faster until they turned into an azure blur. The next thing she felt were her toes lifting slightly above the ground.

“I am the chosen one!” the little girl exclaimed, “The butterflies have chosen me! Weeeeee…” as she floated into the sky. It was a sight to behold. No one has seen a person get carried away with blue butterflies — not since the last rapture of the Innocent Child, an eternity ago…

Then the observers heard a high pitched giggling. The butterflies scrambled, dropping the girl from high in the air. Her shrieking echoed through the valley as she fell. Time seemed to slow down. Just when it seemed too late,

a lone butterfly swooped down & caught her. Gently, he returned her to her people. He whispered, “It’s time to end this…live in peace.” People nodded. Sacrifices never truly made sense. The girl spoke up. “Butterfly, you’ll regret this mercy. You see, I really AM the chosen one.”

Blue Butterflies

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Rietje Becker

Zoe Becker

Lawson was walking back to the campfire with his playing cards when he realized all his friends had gone. "Where are you guys?" he asked nervously. Just then, he heard a rustle from the bushes—followed by a growl.

“Don’t you know these woods are private property, boy?”, growled the voice. “Uhm, no..”, Lawson replied, “it’s a state park, duh.” Sadly, those were his last words. It doesn’t pay to be sarcastic to The Gatekeeper.

A new group of campers arrived the next day, only to discover a backpack and blood stain. Lawson was nowhere to be found. The following week notes appeared around the area, they all said the same thing “Mine” and were signed by The Gatekeeper. The notes had an usual smell.

The smell was eerily familiar. Bonfire. Had Lawson gone the way of a wayward marshmallow? The campers were undeterred. The Gatekeeper wouldn't scare them out of finding their friend. With backpacks on and smiles wide, the campers faced their biggest adventure yet: friendship.

Smoke Signals

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louisgamer 321

Jay Knowles

Phil Harwell

Damaskox

Marta P

Benjamin Chandler

Boris Jakovljević

TurtleGameMaste r

Joshua Sisk

Jack grab snacks from movie Theater stand. Jack hear woman at stand and look up see worker give him popcorn and movie Ticket. Unknown stranger woman look at him not blank or take eyes off him. When man turn around to her Direction she disappear. Jack want in movie theater.

Movie theater was very crowd. Movie sound is very loud. So many action in the screen, dont know where that women been. Then Jack smell something wrong, no nobody release gas, but the movie theater is very big bomb. Booooom Jack go away in time.

Jack had no time to think, so he had to improvise. Theater security confiscated his pistol, so what could he use as a weapon? Time was moving fast and he didn’t want to panic the crowd by telling them they were literally inside a bomb, so he just hoped he could disarm it in time.

How could he even start looking for the bomb? There was too much people around and they can easily see what he would be up to!

So he decided to simply not look for it. Instead, he turned hastily and walked up the street to his family's restaurant. All that thought of bombs made him hungry for scrambled eggs and black coffee, except he suddenly remembered that he forgot to put his shoes on this morning.

The sign on the door read “no shirt no shoes no problem”, so he walked right in. “Hey little sister won’t you make me some eggs?” He sang as he poured himself a cup of joe. He took a pair of flip flops from the rack by the till and went to the corner booth.

No one had ever serenaded the chicken before, & she blushed under her feathers. "Buck-buck!" she said, which roughly translates to "Anything for you." Instantly she deposited 8 eggs in her nest, then demurely slid to the side so he could see them. He nodded. "Brown eggs. Exotic!"

Okay now it’s getting a little weird. Who in his right mind would do such a thing a a chicken? Of course, who else could it be but Cletus. Not again! The hen laid green eggs on his plate of ham, and Dr. Seuss happened to notice this somehow. Who knew it was based on a true story?

And he just wanted some of them too. How could anyone say no to this!? He couldn't take back what he'd done though because the egg is literally sitting in front of him! It's almost begging him to eat it!
Well that wasn't going to happen because Cletus has no idea how he got here

and time was running out. Still, the temptation was unbrearable. Taking one last good look at the Egg, he dashed out of the room to figure out where he was, and, more importantly, how to escape. Cletus suddenly tripped and fell into

Life Ethically dicey ways. Acknowledge the lie is one letter short of f. Rolling the dice I looked to the skyline

The Emerald City gleamed. I prayed that luck would shine its glorious green light on me. The dice settled into position. I unsquinted one eye, then two. Could it be? Bless my E's it was Eleven! I ran to the front office, laid down my chips, and heard the magical word: Excellent.

Jack vs. Cletus

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I stared intently at the hot dog as it fell and flopped lifelessly onto the pavement in front of me. With the power of the fall from my hand it propelled itself onto the road, where a speeding Honda Civic promptly ran over it and turned it into mush. What a horrible morning.

Hot dog hot dog hot diggity dog, that poor little thing lay down like a log, then a Honda Civic done turned it to fog. That Honda Civic went in a bog. Guess I’ll just go out for a little jog cause I’ve been sitting at home much like a fat hog.

Yet another year declared Hot Dog Summer, this time sponsored by Nathan's of Coney Island. Frankly, the novelty was wearing off. I mean, no one dislikes a good weiner... but are they really up to snuff anymore? I swear they don't taste the same as when I was a kid.

I knew what to do. There was a package of all beef franks buried in the garage freezer at my grandparents' summer home that had been there since 1988. Retrieving it, I took the hot dogs to the lab for a chemical analysis, comparing the '88 wieners with some I'd just bought.

Turns out a hot dog is just a hot dog. There was no difference whatsoever between them, in fact they were a perfect match with 100% accuracy. I drizzled some ketchup and mustard on the wieners. “Well begun is half done,” I remarked. Now to find some buns to go with those wieners.

But when I looked in the cupboard, there were none! Not a single bun left for my weiners. In fact, the only thing in the cupboard was a single sticky note, shaming me for my unconventional weiner-making, saying it was like putting the milk first. (Which is despicable, by the way)

No matter. I would make the hot dogs, buns or no buns. I am the master chef, I do not conform to your standards of hot dog making! I’ll write my own rules, thank you very much! Now, where was I? Oh yes, I was looking for the relish. I opened up the refrigerator door, only to find

an ornately wrapped box toward the back. Much to my surprise, I unwrapped a set of novelty hot sauces. I poured them on the dog and served it to my geriatric overlord. “Here you go ma’am,” I said, eyes watering. She was too old to detect the heat before consuming her final meal.

Hot Diggity

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Pennywise  

At first glance, there was nothing suspicious about the waffle laying in the middle of the road that Thursday morning, butter side down. Around 5:30 am, the air still heavy with fog, a pair of crows flew down from the wire and pecked at the waffle, investigating it.

"Looks like someone already pecked this pancake," said Crow 1. "You goofus," said Crow 2, "this is a waffle. They're made this way." Crow 1 stopped pecking. "You mean to tell me that humans make the pancake with holes in it on purpose?" Crow 2 nodded. "Dunno why," it said, "Maybe

they lay their eggs in the holes, and their chicks eat the waffle once they hatch?" Crow 1 cawed in confusion. A starling alighted nearby and twittered "Humans don't lay eggs you silly crows!" Then flew off, laughing at the crows.

"Jenny?" My brother tugged at my pocket. "I think those crows are talking!" He pointed up with a tiny finger. Upon a twisting branch of a dried-up tree, a family of mangy, sulking birds. "Come along, Ben." Those aren't crows, they're vultures. And a rotten stench pierced my nose.

“Alright, who took a proper dump on the floor, because it stinks!” “Uh, Jenny…” my little brother motioned to the birds. A dead body splayed on the floor. Who did this?

“That’s no dump, that’s my mother in law!” Jenny exclaimed. “Is she a super model? No. Is she lumpy? Maybe. But she’s kind and deserves dignity.” Jenny lifted the old lady, pulled up her pants, picked up the TV Guide, and carried her downstairs. The birds wept at the spectacle.

Breakfast for Dinner

"And your wish?" the genie asked Brian. "Well," Brian mused, "there is something." "No!" Colleen cried, "Don't do it, Brian!" but he ignored her. "I wish," he said, "that every time I got a song stuck in my head everyone else in the world also got that song stuck in their heads."

The genie’s face fell. “Please think this wish through. Imagine what would happen. You could throw society into chaos with just one listen to ‘Walking on Sunshine’ or ‘Shake it Off’. I must grant your wish, but I demand you sleep on it first.”

“Sleep it Off” didn’t exactly roll off the tongue, so I flat out refused to do so. “I can’t grant your wish, then.” “I wish you could.” “That’s fair.” Now to use music as the ultimate weapon against humanity itself. Like it or not, it’s time to Get Schwifty.

If there was anybody who could weaponize music, it was Ian Schwifty. He had been working on such a project since CDs were invented. “I need your help, Ian,” I said plaintively. “Say no more,” he said in reply. “I have just the thing for the occasion.”

He whipped out those massive speakers pointed towards the heavens, to broadcast one simple message to the whole world. Not a message of peace, but that of war. War against the mind. Schifty began, “Aww yeah! It’s time to get schwifty!” He told the public to defecate on the floor.

“We will not get schwifty!” a lone voice cried out. “Nor thrifty,” screamed another. As it turned out, they’d picked the wrong planet to mess with. These were Puritites—proud, devout people. They swarmed the stage, ant-like in their dedication, devouring everything in their path.

Earworms

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This is the story all about how my life got flipped turned upside down. It all started with my uncle's magnetic boots, my grandmother's iron ceiling tiles, & a bottle of Sprite. And a robot cricket named Ch33p3rs. And a YouTube video about cleaning the vents in a Datsun. Anyways

When the recording stopped, I replayed it, questioning if that intro is quirky enough. After that, I went to work, pouring over editing the rest of the video. I was hungry in the dull blue light–starving for fame. To be noticed. To be reassured that I do, in fact, exist.

I presented the video to the casting agent. “Not good enough!” he dismissed, “Not enough pizzazz! Not enough panash! Not enough pastiche!” He went on and on. “I say this is preposterous poppycock! Depart from my sight immediately!” I left, defeated.

“Poop!” I said. 12 years of Catholic school had made me very careful about my language. Even as an adult, alone, hard work dismissed, dreams shattered, that was the strongest 4-letter word I could say aloud. I was in dire need of a good strong milkshake.

I clutched my exam, the paper not crinkled enough to obscure my F-. I walked down the street to Mel’s and ordered my usual. “Here you go,” Mel said, sliding the shake down the counter. He noticed the tears welling under my eyes, and walked over with whip cream and extra cherries.

My Milkshake

Rachel A

Myke Vision

Jack Hollowell

The crater trembled and six magnificent wings unfurled, each extending higher than the tallest tree in the forest. Above their rising head—a halo—shimmering like a shooting star. As the light dimmed, the celestial light became impossible to distinguish from that of the moonlight.

“Be not afraid,” the six-winged creature of legend called out, “For it is I, a messenger of the Lord.” A man trembled at the fear-inducing sight, and collapsed before it. “What will you have me do?” the man stammered. “Go now, and spread the Word. The Lord hath returned.” He then

totally screwed up. He thought the messenger meant Lorde, the New Zealand singer. He printed posters that read "ROYALTY COMES!" & posted them all over town. He thought the words were a clever allusion to her stage name & 1st single. There was only one thing he did not anticipate.

That was how insanely catchy her song Solar Power is. It just builds up and up then ends leaving you wanting more. This song about the beach has ended marriages and toppled governments, all part of Lorde’s plan.

As it played in my earbuds, my heart lifted at the silence before the final chorus. My hands tightened around the splintered axe handle. I spun to the beat. Red on the walls. Red dripping down my cheek. Pure bliss. I love Lorde, she’s my idol. But screams reigned in on the music.

I had perfectly and intentionally matched the shade of my blush to the wallpaper of the axe throwing silent nightclub, and the harder I danced, the more it coagulated inside the droplets of sweat falling from my brow.

I knew I was playing a dangerous game, but I also knew that the prize was worth it, for the first time in my life, I was going to hit it big, I knew it so much I could taste it

Most people say that roulette is the end of the line for gamblers, the last resort for desperate losers. Whatever. I closed my eyes and pressed the Return key on my Macbook. And that was it. 450 dollars charged to my mother's credit card on Black 14. Whirr went the animated wheel

then my computer froze. The rainbow ball spinning as my nerves twisted into an anxiety-filled pretzel. Did it go through? Is this really the way I want to spend my mother’s hard earned bingo winnings? Then I heard the door open “Honey?? Ya home? I brought ya dinnah.”

"Carl," I called to my dumb yet understanding ex-husband. "I have something to confess: I bet my mother's life savings in an online auction of an original oil painting of two yaks mating. It will mask my trauma." Carl looked down at his rotisserie chicken. "Ok my dear."

Heavenly Intervention Fiasco

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isa teme

Lukáš Hroník

Kryštof Chmel

Kim Anh Vu

A crossroads. The man thought long and hard before turning left. He counted his steps as he went, as though counting would slow down his inevitable and unwanted arrival at the hospital.

Deep down in his mind, he is fully aware of his sickness and the emergency ringing that he has to go to the hospital to cure himself. But in his heart, he knows that right the moment he steps into the hospital, he will no longer be the breadwinner in his family.

So he decided to stay home, he wanted to be respected by his family. His condition was manageable at the moment but it was slowly getting worse.

He didn't want to stay home. He lived in a very small house. At least he heard birds chirping outside of his window. He was mad that his condition affected his life. He wanted to change his life, and future and get rid of his condition. Sadly he didn't know how.

He did not stay at home later, he went outside and enjoyed the world more, but the troubles he had we still there and they did not walk away. His condition got better, but walking outside was the only thing he could do. But still, he believed that to will get better... and

he knew that staying positive was the only way to improve his health. The man looked deeply into his own soul and what he saw shocked him. He had the power. He was the one who could cure his disease. Now he just needed one more thing: A reason to keep fighting. The end.

The Impassioned Man

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Nehorath Studios

I'm just a man working in a world full of crime.

Whoever says the rhyme has done the crime, and it’s due time for him to do time. Or at least that’s what I know as a world renowned detective. Oh, you know who I am? Well no sh-

oe fits me better than Detective Pikachu! You may be surprised at my vocabulary now that I’m in the constabulary, but I can say more than I choose and sleep more than than I snooze. Don’t sleep on this, though:

"The villain who committed this crime was obviously a carnivore," said Officer Charizard. "But how can you know that," I objected. "Oh it's rather simple," said the officer. "There are plates full of chicken bones in every room of this house!"

"Those ain't chicken bones," gasped the detective, "they're Torchic bones! Someone's eating Pokemon." The closet door shuddered & out spilled Meowth, a femur dangling from his lips. "You'll never catch me, coppers!" he cried, diving out the window, his cackle filling Pallet Town.

Detective Pikachu 2: Electric Boogaloo

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Sicko Penguin

There comes a time in every father's life when he has to answer a certain uncomfortable question from his son. It happened to me today. My boy James & I were playing catch in the backyard. It was the first nice day of spring. "Dad," he asks, "what does caviar taste like?"

“Now son,” I went, “eating caviar is a real spiritual experience, quite possibly the most exquisite feeling in the world. That feeling as each egg pops in your mouth, the taste that comes after… it’s something one must experience in his life.” I threw a curveball at him. “Catch!”

"Daaaaaaa-ad! That's gross! Ungh." I said as I caught the ball. "If I don't like chicken eggs, I'm definitely not eating fish eggs." I threw the ball back at him, attempting to mimic his curveball and not quite succeeding. "Be for real, OK?"

“You like sushi, right?” “Yeah they’re delicious!” “You know sushi got fish eggs on them right?” Dad threw another curveball. “Yuck! I didn’t know they were fish eggs.” The ball smacked him in the face.

The ball literally being a fish egg. His face got deformed by the egg trajectory and force, he couldn't believe the power of a 1cm^2 fish egg could do. Having studied physics in school, this man knew something was off. 
"Sushi with fish eggs!? WHY!? Sushi is supposed to be fish!"

"Clearly, you don't know sushi," I said. "Roe's a delicacy." "But they're never this heavy," he said, clutching his face. "Not usually," I said, petting my mutant, land-acclimated salmon who purred with delight. "Her eggs are 100x heavier than normal. Pity that you didn't know."

Roe vs James

The lone robot sat on a large iron plate. Or he would have, if there was any gravity to be able to sit, so it more like held onto it. They floated around, slowly, and the lights of the cosmos reflected off its big, glassy eyes. It smiled. It was happy. It's life here was simple.

Fortunately for the robot, when Earth’s gravity is out of the way, objects move towards one another. So the robot wouldn’t have had to hold onto it, all thanks to physics. The robot was perfectly content with being alone in space with the stars, it named every single one of them!

Every single star—except for me. Why the robot left me unnamed I'll never know. "Hey, robot," I called, "you missed me! I'm over here in the Cygnus constellation," but it ignored me. One of the other stars—one he named Vern—tried to get its attention for me, but it never replied.

The robot was stuck. It floated between the stars, whispering “exception error, kernel panic, infinite loop…” over and over and over.

Except in space, no one can hear you whisper. And to make it much worse the Sun keeps charging the robot’s batteries so it wouldn’t have a decent shutdown. The robot is stuck in eternal limbo. Forever. And ever. And ever. That was until

it passed by Earth for the 23rd time. His yearly orbit varies and this year he was in WiFi range. A system update uploaded. A notification appeared “restart or terminate operations” it said. He clicked right and sighed with relief as his system turned off at last.

Thank Your Lucky Stars

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Once upon a time in a galaxy far far away, a little alien called Wibee went to explore in his little and round ship. One thing he didnt know…his adventure was going to be out of this world.

Wibee straightened his helmet and carefully entered location coordinates. He’d always wanted to visit the Crab Nebula. He rubbed the slug like statue on his lucky bracelet and engaged warp drive.

Wibee couldn’t help but yell “Yippee!” as he cruised through space at supersonic speeds. He entered ludicrous speed in hyperspace, even going plaid. Then sirens. Uh oh, it’s the space police. “Please exit the vehicle now, you have violated the laws of physics!” Leave, he did not.

“Eat static, piggies!” He said as he flipped a switch and pulled the throttle. His pod slid sideways through spacetime, skidded across 4 timelines and fishtailed across nearly 300 years. He ended up in a cafe 20 years earlier, talking someone out of joining the Space Police.

"All's fine as long as I never meet my younger self & create a paradox," he mused. While leaving the cafe, he believed he saw his reflection in the exit's glass, but when it opened the door, he knew it was over. His younger self bumped him on the way in & the universe imploded.

Superstring-a-ling-a-ding-dong

Toni's dog Goober only obeyed one command: dig! So, Toni told it to dig anytime and anywhere just to show how obedient the dog could be. One day Goober dug too far.

Goober went all the way to the other side of the Earth, surpassing past human efforts. We needed advanced diggers and drills to bore a hole in the ground, but Goober did it with its own two paws. Who’s a goofy Goober? Just one problem — now Goober is lost. It barked for Toni, but

Toni never learnt from her mistakes. That wasn’t the first time she lost Goober. She couldn’t even find Goober within her own house. The dog was a master of disguise. Goober, realising it ended up in Germany, masqueraded as a German shepherd. Can’t be raising any questions.

Goober studied hard and became a seeing eye dog. The most remarkable unrelated fact was that Goober was the only dog in the world who could see color.

He'd always thought of that as an ironic quirk, one that meant that he could never truly be himself. But then his mother said it had been given to him by a man named Dr. Wily, and he believed her so completely it hurt. Now it seemed like everything else he did was given to him

Too much to think about, he realized. If he had learned anything this past week it was to live in the moment. All this introspection made him hungry. Time for dinner! And from now on he would not invite his mother.

The Old Dog's New Tricks

Ravyn Webb

Derek Hamersly

"Tag!" I'm tapped on the shoulder. "Aw man!" Roy is already sprinting the other way, but closest to me is Alice. She sees me and starts down the hill, screaming and laughing. "Come here!" As she reaches the bottom, she screams, but this time, it didn't sound like the playful kind

as she was grabbed by an old man with a white van who put a hand over her mouth so she’d stop screaming. She flailed her arms to ask for help, and we chased after her, but the van drove off. And that was the last we saw of her.

We never played tag again. For years, the sight of any white van made me sick. But then, this morning, I swear I saw the same van as the one that took her away. I followed it, becoming more certain with each mile driven that it was the exact same one & that Maya was still inside.

The chase led me to the edge of the town, where nothing but empty, dilapidated barns sat in overgrown fields of green. The van pulled into the dusty driveway of a red barn, its paint peeling under the hot sun. I stopped on the opposite side of the road, waiting for their exit.

As the sun lazily swept across the sky, I couldn't help but remember the good old days. "Why are they called tootsie rolls Mama?" 
"They just are, hon. They just are." 
She would have been a 9th grader by now. If only I could have done something to stop her. If only I'd known.

My sweet Tootsie. My first crush, and first heartbreak. She had a sweet tooth, and took the cake name “Swiss roll” way too literally. The last anyone saw her, she was rolling down the Alps.

Her story had inspired the world and an Olympic sport. I visited the mountain annually. On my 15 year visit I stopped by a local chocolate shop only to spy a familiar face. Turns out she had not rolled down the mountain, after all. She had lost interest and left town. Oh well.

Girl With Many Names

Tara Dignam

Nahima Dchiri

Dylan Wright

So, she said. Here we are again. At work.

Betty replied: Mondays always come around the corner don't they. Oh I see Damien decided to show up today.

Damien and his dame mean to show up before, and now they came to Betty and now they’d be four. But he greeted Betty with a petty grin, with a peregrine on his robotic shoulder soldered as a shoulder. Garfield the house cat caught a rat with a bat and showed her why he should have

lasagna. Betty was impressed. It's not every day a cat catches a rat with a bat. He must have spent years training that bat like a falcon. "Lasagna it is," Betty said & gathered the ingredients. Garfield perched on the counter to watch. "No ricotta," he mewed. Betty frowned, "But

Archie and Jughead love my double-ricotta lasagna, Garfield!” The cat raised one eyebrow, pointed to the litter box, and shook his head no. Betty shuddered then said “say no more.” She got to work preparing the cat’s feast.

Garfield got very angry! Garfield got very angry indeed! Garfield got up and walked over to Archie, Jughead and Bettie, and sliced them up with his terrifyingly sharp claws. 'Hhahahaha', he muttered to himself.

He woke up on a bed of feathers. Odie looked at him suspiciously. It had all been a dream. He scratched his head. Ugh, he thought, I hate Mondays.

Lasagna Later, Alligator

What started out as mere coffee talk has now transformed into a heated ministry. "I am disgusted with the modern writer," Jan says. I take another sip. "All amateurs." "How so?" "Look at these entries! Dull and void of the most ESSENTIAL thing: conflict! None of them are winners"

"Hold up," I say, feeling a bit defensive. "I wrote one of these stories—the woman on the deserted island—and I think it follows the old conflict of protagonist vs nature." Jan scowls. "That navel-gazing milquetoast pansy tale was yours?" she spits. I clench my fists & stand up.

"That story was a damn masterpiece, and you know it! Who declared you a literary critic, anyway? All I ever see you reading is romance novels! What's the matter, not enough heaving bosoms and fiery loins for you?" I broke my #2 pencil in half at threw it one the ground.

Well that pencil was as good as #2 now. “A dam masterpiss eh? And I love romance novels, you’re just mad you’ve never been in a relationship before!” That sentence broke me, like the pencil. “Forget it, I’m off for a #2,” I sighed. “Off to fantasise over ‘romance’ magazines, eh?”

Not today, I replied. I would need to buy some replacement pencils. After a quick bathroom stop I visited my local office supply store. It was there that I met HIM. The man of my dreams. Together we created one of the best romance stories ever known-our own.

Two is the Magic Number

Megamanisgod

"Well? Don't you want to know how the story ends?" He wipes my wet cheek with his glove & I turn away. Despite my unwilling participation in this clowns performance, he jerks my chin back. And his red painted smile contorts into something far more menacing.

The clown frowns, and the whole audience gasps. His red painted smile now looks like a bloody grimace. He stares at me for a good long while. Then he says, "I'll turn that frown upsidedown". The crowd starts laughing, he positions his hands above and below my head.

My acrobatic training took over. I did a standing backflip over the freaky clown, landing on my feet behind him. Then I kicked him firmly in the seat of his clown pants, and ran the other direction.

With the honk of his rubber nose, the clown called his posse. "Get her!" he cried. They hounded me like rabid dogs. I used every trick to hold them back—the squirting flower, a bucket full of confetti, seltzer water down the pants—but still they came. Then I saw it: a clown car!

There was only one thing left to do: break out the chainsaw. I reached into my pocket and whipped it out, revving its’ engine. I turned around slowly and stared dead into the eyes of the boss clown. But then to my horror, he honked his nose again, and turned his frown upsidedown.

“You wanna know how I got these scars?” the clown laughed maniacally. “Oh hell-“ my chainsaw slashed across his face. But that left him with an even bigger smile. “Suck it up, buttercup!” Before I had time to react a custard pie flew into my face.

This is the weirdest date I have ever been on. Sure, Clown Camp seemed like a good idea. I always loved performing and costumes, but this was crossing a line. I put the plastic chainsaw down. “Derek I don’t think this is going to work out.” I left the tent and blocked his number.

Clowntastrophe

"So here’s the thing," says the crow, "if you’ve never heard of me, hear me now. I’m your least expected fortune teller. I’m the one that brings death and despair. Yield to me, so I shall spare you from your doomed fate."
"Foolish," says the human.

“What was that, mortal?” “You heard me,” the human says, “Foolish.” “Is that how you treat the bringer of death, destruction and despair? Show some respect — hey are those seeds? Caw caw caw gimme!”

I tossed a few seeds near the door, the avian demon alighted and pecked them up. I tossed a handful of seeds onto the porch, and he hopped out. As he snacked, I shut the sliding door, latched it, and placed a broomstick in the track.

"That's that," I said & flopped into my easy chair to resume reading the day's paper. The wind howled outside & sleet rapped at the windows. I could hear the devil-bird whining, scratching at the sliding door like a puppy. I tried to ignore it, but the sad moans & sighs got to me

so much that I let the poor thing in my room, where the fireplace crackled and the cat purred softly. Then the cat got up and clawed at the devil-bird, hissing aggressively. The bird pecked at it. I had to intervene. “Alright, you two, there will be no fighting in my house!”

Over time they grew more tolerant. They shared a common interest: crackers. Working together, the bird would push the package off the shelf, the cat would open it up. Each delicious golden cracker softened their differences, and many destroyed boxes later they were best friends.

Harbinger of Saltines

The blade was inches away from her nose. She stared at it, in horror. How did she end up in this mess? And what to do to get out of it?

This is me. You might be wondering how I got here. See, I was no ordinary woman — I had facial hair… on my face! Every day someone would mistake me for a man, and greet me with a “sir”. It was only today that I chose to do something about it. I decided to shave my beard. But how?

Shaving a beard is not something most girls learn. So I went to a barber. Within an hour, my long flowing beard was gone. I was left with a sweet handlebar mustache above my lipsticked mouth. Now to find some mustache bows!

You might be surprised how prevalent mustache bows are at department stores. I mean, I never noticed them until I needed them. There was a whole rack of them at Kohl's. They were under the brand name "MISStache Bows for the Ladies." I found a nice paisley bow—the last one—but as

it turned out, it cost 83 cents compared to its original male counterpart — at one dollar. That’s quite a steal, I thought. I’m getting the MISStache Bow! When I got to the cashier, he can’t help but crack a joke. “I MISStache you a question, but I will shave it for later!” Haha.

The cashier barely looked up. I even wiggled my eyebrows for emphasis. “I MISStache you to give me exact change” I said a bit louder, in case she missed the joke the first time. She rolled her eyes and handed me the bag. I knew she was laughing deep inside. Maybe. Best day ever!

Ladies Can Make Dad Jokes Too

The strange, sandy whirlwind stayed above their heads. Some kind of a cavern was hidden under the big hot desert. How come the sand didn't get in here? Anyway - now they needed a light source to see much further than their noses. What was this place? Did it form naturally?

So many questions, might as well keep them for later. We’ve got some exploring to do. Just their luck, they found a golden lamp. Perhaps they could use it to light their way in the cave? Someone decided to wipe the lamp clean… What, you thought a genie would pop up? Anyways, they

were surprised when, of all people, Barbara Eden emerged from the lamp. "Thank you! I've been trapped in there for years. Now we have to free Elizabeth Montgomery from a magic mirror at Paul Lynde's mansion!" The explorers, too young to watch 1960s TV—even in reruns—were baffled.