

A Hairy SituationI pace in an effort to escape it. Their gazes swarm to me as if magnetically drawn to the buckles on my shoes. I try to flee the blazing iron of their eyes (for fear it will melt my shoe buckle) but each step turns a new eye towards me until I’m tap-dancing myself into a spectacle. I tell myself that my hair is too ostentatious. It grows wild and remains uncombed, extending this way and that until it forms a protective hedge where I can’t see them and they can’t see me, but they’re staring and I can feel them staring through this web of hair. They’re staring because there’s nothing for them to see. It is all hidden beneath the long tangles… &A Hairy Situation


Thursday AfternoonsI was sitting on a park bench reading as I usually do on Thursdays, mainly because there’s nothing else to do on Thursdays afternoons but read a depressing Thomas Hardy novel where one of the main characters will inevitably die. Anyway, I was sitting there near the swings, contemplating Tess’s imminent death (poor girl) when all of a sudden there was a figure blocking my light. I blinked up, annoyed that I was being kept from the predictable piece of prose, and saw Homeless Harry staring down at me. I’m not sure if his name really is Harry—it might have been Tom or Dick, but it didn’t matter. Homeless Harry didn’t matter to me. He wasn’t impoThursday Afternoons


A Postal AffairIt is one of the odd little facts about life that everybody enjoys getting things in the mail. Whether its catalogues, or a reminder of an old friend, or a chance to gripe about your child’s exponentially increasing cell phone bill, we all look forward to seeing that truck make its way down our street. All of us except Jon Litz. “Mail is just so…blah!” he would ejaculate philosophically to anyone who inquired as to why he had boarded up the little slot in his door. Jon Litz bought scores of vicious canines to prey upon the mailman before the city, under Act 5-6B3 of 1969, had them taken away. Finally, Jon Litz decided it would beA Postal Affair


A Zombie TaleIn 1879, Master Braxton von Bates, a Haitian scientist trying to determine the effects of pufferfish meat on various humans inadvertently discovered that Zombies have a high threshold for pain and a great capacity for manual labor. Wanting to be the richest man in Haiti, which is really not an impressive feat, Braxton sold his ghastly scientific process to a capitalist fat cat convention that, incidentally, had come to Haiti to taste the supposedly exquisite pufferfish. The fat cats wanted the money to be able to import slightly less toxic oceanic delicacies to their homes and so they employed the Von Bates process and in turn the Von Bates pA Zombie Tale
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I think, therefore, I drink.
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You are a beautiful house. Nicely furnished. Your grounds are delightful...
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I think, therefore, I drink.
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anyway i was like watching news and they said woxy is still gonna be on the air on the internet, you can listen to them at woxy.com i think!!! so, YAH! COME BAAAAAAAAACK D:
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Member of *onewordphoto ~ LacunaCoil-Fans ~DeviantSydney
...Forgetting You...I Could Never Do...And I Wo
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