Humor
The Milky Way Express
“Typical,” thought Elsie, taking a seat on the bus, “just typical.” The same day she gets evicted from her flat, she gets fired....Eight years in the same tiny cubicle and what did she have to show for it? A company logo mouse pad, a snoopy pencil head, and a “hang in there” cat poster...
By Chloe Russell3 years ago in Fiction
Superhero Talkshow
[Commercial Break 1] Skycam 1 hovered over the clapping, smiling audience, gliding down until it rested on the well lit stage where the host laughed at an inside joke with his guests. “Welcome back to the show. I’m your host, Tony Cantrell, and in case you're just joining us, we’ve been speaking with our city’s infamous hero, Greyscale.” Tony paused while an applause erupted, flashing the camera a toothy smile before continuing. “Greyscale claims that his arch nemesis, Dr. Chromatic, kidnapped his son, who had just taken up the mantle of Greyscale’s new sidekick, Pitfall. He claims that Dr. Chromatic took his son last summer, and in the time since, the Dr. has allegedly brainwashed Pitfall making him think he is not our fabled super hero's sidekick.
By Dean Floyd3 years ago in Fiction
Who's That Venus...
At the sun’s too enthusiastic greeting I am transformed into a zombie with my urr-ing groans. My arms extend the bed’s blankets into wings to shield my baggaged eyes from the unwelcome light breaking through the hotels window. “Shut the curtains!” I barked towards my wickedly optimistic mother. Optimism, who needs to see the light of day when the darkness of night holds our dreams? “Rise and shine.” Who is she saying that too anyway? Me or the sun, because the sun has risen, and I am incapable of shinning. Last night’s tiresome adventure already has me grieved with Tasmania. Sun, why do you bother to reveal your face? Nobodies eyes can tolerate you anyway.
By Samuel Fletcher3 years ago in Fiction
Oasis Somewhere
Oasis Somewhere by Matthew Simmons “Okay, stop me if you’ve heard this one before. Four nuns walk into confessional. The first goes in and starts, ‘father forgive me for I have sinned.’ Then the priest goes ‘how have you sinned my child’ and she replies ‘I’ve had impure thoughts about men. ‘Say five Hail Mary’s and wash your hair in the holy water basin my daughter’ says the priest and she leaves and the next comes in. This time ‘I have gazed impurely on a man’s body father,’ and he goes, ‘Say ten Hail Mary’s and wash your eyes in the holy water. When the second nun leaves the priest hears arguing outside the confessional, so he steps out to see what’s going on and he sees nuns three and four are heated. Nun four says, I don’t care what he says, I’m not washing my mouth out with that water after you!’ Kyla finishes her joke as she climbs over a beat-up old Honda Civic on blocks. There was no laugh from her audience, the stuffed bear dangling from the back of her backpack. Her father never wanted her to know crass jokes like that but the engineer, Mr. Bartley knew hundreds of them by heart. When they made supply runs, Mr. Bartley was sure to tell at least two dirty jokes. One going and, one coming back and at some point they just stuck, but that was five years ago. Mr. Bartley lives only in those jokes now, and Kyla knows at least half of them. Half alive is better than not alive at all right?
By Matthew Simmons3 years ago in Fiction
No Okies from Oklahoma, or Bennies from New Jersey.
Phil Baider is sweating, in his apartment, over a blue 2009 Prius on Queens Craigslist. It’s the end of the world and the seller listed it as not only "excellent,” but with “new tires. Under 100,000 miles." A steal in a constricting market. He and his wife Trudy had been locked inside their apartment for over three months because of city-wide quarantine.
By J. E. Sullivan3 years ago in Fiction
Stump In The Night
Ah fresh air, countryside, and a promise of witnessing one of life’s true marvels. Nice and simple. No wizards, no flickering fires and definitely nothing bizarre lingering around by ever so slightly escaping my peripheral sight. A well-earned slice of relaxation heading my way without the faintest possibility of abnormalities to follow foot. Four days, that’s all it took for me to seek refuge from the chaotic nature of Melbourne. Tasmania, here I come.
By Samuel Fletcher3 years ago in Fiction
Of Paperclips and Printshops
Katy stood in the drizzling rain and eyed the back door of the shop dubiously. Her hands and feet were cold, and she was beginning to wonder if any of this was a good idea. Beside her, Cornwell pursed his lips as if whistling a tune, but no sound came out.
By charlotte meilaender3 years ago in Fiction