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November 7, 2006

11.07.06

Let's hang someone. (Or something.)

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"Oh my god...I could not believe it!"

"What?" asked as exasperated fellow student.

"Its awful, Jenny says its sure sign of a budding serial killer!" Said Debs in a shocked voice.

"Who is..." changing tact quickly. "What has he done?"

"Oh its just too awful, I mean sick and twisted!" She exclaimed. "My mother better not hear or she will flip."

Maria was now annoyed and ready to shake the girl next to her. She calmly said in her Cuban accented English.

"What'd he do?"

"He's hung Kermit the frog from the ceiling of his bedroom!"

Maria swore stalking off.

Posted by: Andrew Ian Dodge at November 7, 2006 6:54 AM · Permalink

I wanted to put together the perfect story today. One that would tie the theme together with the fact that I'm leaving on vacation this morning.

But nothing good happened inside my brain. I think I've missed too much sleep with the packing up of the family.

I can't wait to catch up when I get back in a couple weeks!

You all have fun.

Posted by: kasac at November 7, 2006 10:34 AM · Permalink

Have a great time on vacation, kasac!

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at November 7, 2006 10:45 AM · Permalink

An Act of Tragedy

“One! Two! Three!”

Peppy was hoisted up on the next set of shoulders. They were still a bit wobbly, some holding on to the wall to steady the Human Totem. More practice was needed, but they were going to be the next great act in the Barnum & Bailey circus. You could count on it!

Then tragedy struck. The bottom guy stumbled over a raised rug. The whole lot fell forward. Peppy got caught up in the ropes of a hammock. After that, the remaining seven performers, shamefully, took to a quiet life in the woods, working in diamond mines.

Posted by: Laieanna at November 7, 2006 12:20 PM · Permalink

Burroughs scraped the last of the beetle’s innards out with his tongue and sat back as the hallucinations began to creep in along the edges of reality.

The stone rolled away and he found himself bathed in the light of the Third Day. At his feet lay a body, dead and abandoned; soulless and empty.

It turned to dust, scattering in the morning breeze and he shuddered. He was covered in the dead man’s soot, breathing it in, expanding his visions even more.

“The body. It is gone!”

They’re not hanging this one on me, Burroughs thought, and slipstreamed away.

Posted by: PB McCoy at November 7, 2006 4:07 PM · Permalink