TurtleGameMaster

Phil Harwell

Jay Knowles

Marta P

Sean King

Benjamin Chandler

Jacob Sherman

Paz Waz

Chris Dodds

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Chris Baroody

Zoe Becker

English

A long time ago,
In a land called Kentucky,
There once lived a man,
Who wasn't very lucky,
And one day he fell,
Right into a well,
And his situation was very yucky.

‘Twas a lovely spring day, with confidence I say, and the well was crumbling apart. His woman had said, “Our love is now dead,” and this statement broke the man’s heart.

It turned into fall, and she built up a wall, to keep the poor man away. He gave out a call, asked her out to the ball, he just wanted her to stay.

She was appalled, as he was completely bald, and nothing he did could hide it. That is why on the floor she was sprawled, and completely enthralled, by the shine his hairless dome could emit.

“Yes, Madam,” he said. “I am proud of my smooth shiny chrome dome. I embrace my hairless head. My secret? Moisturizing sunscreen applied four times a day.”

"Just what I wanted to hear," she said. "I'm a photographer & I have a series in mind: art's greatest sculptures reflected in a shiny bald head. It will involve lots of travel, but I'm willing to pay every expense. Will you work with me?" He nodded, sun gleaming off his noggin.

This man must be crazy! In fact she was so shocked by this proposal that she immediately accepted it, and off they went snapping photos of great works of art reflected on his shiny bald head all over the world. It went viral on social media, with many replicating the duo’s deeds.

The idea was so outlandish and funny that as originators they made millions. Before long he was spending thousands of dollars a week getting his bald head waxed and shined so that the reflections remained sharp. On the downside the skin on his scalp was now thinning.

As it thinned, the capillaries in it slowly began bursting. This initially left him looking a bit like a young Mikhail Gorbachev, but as time went on the red deepened in color and the entirety of his scalp from his eyebrows up was the color of port.

The colouration didn’t stop there. Over the following weeks it permeated downwards, the pigmentation changing colour every day. Some muted, some pastel, some lurid. Eventually, when two small circles of original skin on the balls of his feet finally closed up the process was over

Full-sheathed in kaleidoscope skin, heart throbbing painful under coils of panic, he steps forward but staggers, slips - now lands, one knee in mud. Like this, he stays. Day becomes like a flashing strobe. In time, his skin becomes keratinous and jagged, but ever more vibrant.

He sheds his crusted skin in a flurry of motion, and all at once his creamy center is exposed. He is now a squishy baby, ensconced in a slimy finish, with wide, wondering eyes, and mouth agape. His metamorphosis is complete.

The Art of the Bald Head

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Damaskox

Megamanisgod

Aan Oberoi

Alex Ramir

Once upon a time (which was actually 2 weeks ago) I had woken up to the sound of explosions, and I look out the windows to see someone robbing a bank!

“Everybody hands up! Get on the floor!” The scene would be so much different were it on the dancefloor. But this was no dancefloor. A masked man brandished his pistol. “Give me all your money! All of it!”

"I don't mean to be a troublemaker," said a woman in the back, "but how can we give you our money while we are laying down with our hands up?" Others slowly agreed, "Yeah! How can we do all 3 at once?" "This is bogus!" yelled a kid. "Totes bogus," agreed the woman. The robber did

curse out loud while pulling one of the captives up.
"Keep a lookout, men!" he yelled to his team of other robbers.
"Show me where the money is, do it quietly, and no funny business, or you won't be able to see how far my shotgun will make your head fly!" he threatened a captive.

The bank teller directed the robbers towards the safe. “Okay, now open it!” “I can’t, I don’t have the password! Only the guard knows the password!” “Don’t you play with me, boy! Open the safe!” Sirens blared across the hallway. Turns out someone pressed the button. “For Pete’s-”

Coffee you have some pretty serious security!”, the robber said. “Sir, this is a bank! And is that gun you’re waving a nerf toy?”, the teller asked. The robber’s eyes went wide, he cursed, and sprinted for the exit, only to find…

There was a large crowd of police outside the door, all wielding water guns. The robber was wearing his most expensive ski mask, so he surrendered immediately. At the holding cell, he was alowed to make one phone call, and the robber called...

his mother, sobbing with tears in his eyes, he exclaimed to her, “Mom you were right, I was not destined to be a robber, See Mom, I have been caught and am at the mercy of the policemen,”he lamented. He knew in his heart of hearts that his last attempt at robbery had been foiled.

The kid’s pursuer, still some ways off, slowed. Tilted an ear. A sound - to him, like a pig’s whimper when time for butchering come. Unmistakable. Lawman hadn’t savored sound like that since ages ago. Time to hunt; time to catch. Then, time enough to make a sinner learn to shriek

until it turns to breathless silence. Lawman’s toes curled in his boots at the mere thought. Pleasure stormed his veins. His mouth twisted up into a sinister grin as he savored the imagery for another fleeting moment. And then, just as quickly, he was off.

Nerfs Up

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ayesha wells

Sam Becker

Jim ran a hand through his hair, “Bro I’m telling you, there’s just no way any chick can say no to the Jimster”. Eric rolled his eyes so far, they almost got stuck at the back of his head. “Get that girl’s number then, and you get bragging rights and $50,” Eric pointed ahead.

Game on, thought Jim. He sauntered over to the girl in the far corner of the room. "So... you breathe oxygen?" he asks, smugly. She looks at him quizzically and swiftly turns back around to face her friends, trying desperately not to laugh. Ok, time for Plan B.

The pill? Why would he need one? It’s not like he’s going to score or anything. In addition to a rubber ravioli in his shirt pocket, he couldn’t be too careful. He downed a few beers which gave him a massive boost in confidence. He walked up to that smoking hot blonde lady again.

“So, ahhh, I’ve been thinking,” he said to her “you’re hot, I’m friendly, why don’t we get to know each other better?” She gave him a half-smile, and looked him over. Then he screwed it all up with a few simple words:

“Wanna grab some pineapple pizza with me?” “Pineapple pizza? You sick freak! Get away from me!” The poor guy should have known that pineapple does not belong anywhere on pizza. He had committed a major faux pas. In all seriousness he would have been better off asking for her age.

She stormed off, stomach turning at the thought of his offer. Maybe some sparking water would help. She ducked into a corner store & perused the aisles for something fizzy. Oh no, she thought, that jingle—"In a tizzy? Grab something fizzy, like Sofa Cola!"—now it was in her head!

She quickly took out her phone and put on some music to fend off the Sofa Cola™ earworm she found herself with. Soon the jingle was out of her head, and she was able to grab some sparkling water in peace. But little did she know, they were completely out! Now what will she drink?

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

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I’ve done it. I’ve secured the last Seasonal Goat Cheese Lover’s collection from the local creamery just in time for Christmas. It’s $50, but it’s worth it. At last, my spouse will know how much I still adore her and her penchant for the cheese of goats. Perhaps,

that fairy's curse won't come true after all. Maybe she understood I obliterated her home with the lawnmower purely by accident. Maybe Aunt Zoja was wrong & fairies really can be forgiving. I wrap my wife's Christmas present with a whistle, tying the bow just as she comes home.

“So, darling, what’s the best way to apologize to an angry sprite?” She tapped her cheek and thought. “Maybe an arrangement of micro greens? Or a thimble full of homemade soup? Uncle Zanzibar swore by peppercorns, but his dealings were with leprechauns.”

“No, that’s not it,” she thought long and hard. “Hmm, I’ve got it!” She put some mentos on the floor. “Here spritey spritey! Here’s candy!” The sprite approached the candy. Poor decision. She grabbed the sprite by the neck and shoved it in the freezer with the other soda bottles.

This did not work, of course, as the fridge was already completely full of Pepsi. This made the sprite so angry it literally exploded, leaving half the kitchen in ruin.

Must have been the work of Bart Simpson, who was snickering the whole time. “April Fools!” “Why you little—“ an instantly recognisable voice rang. Homer was dead set on getting him back for that one, and he wouldn’t stop until he had his hands round his neck.

TurtleGameMaster
@turtlegamemaster

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