Dedicated To

A.j W, Alex G, Alex W, Amelia S, Amy H, Andersen P, Andre D, Andrea W-J, Andrew G, Angie M, April W, August F, Austin G, Bradley S, Brandon A, Brandon W, Brittany B, Cameron P, Carlton M, Chloe F, Chris G, Chrissy H, Christy S, Cindy W, Garrett C, D. W, Dan I, Daniel B, Danielle C, David W, David B, Dory B, Dylan H, Eckhard G, Edmund C, Emileigh T, Emily G, Emory P, Eric M, Eric R, Gina R, Grant W, Jackson B, Jake W, James Z, Jeff B, Jeremy S, Jeremy J, Jess G, Jesse S, Jessie D, Jordan K, Joshua P, Judy W, Justin M, Karen T, Katie G, Kevin D, Kevin M, Kevin S, Kevin W, Koshka K, LeAnne H, Lotus R, Lucas T, Manatu S, Margery C-T, Martin J, Matthew R, Megan H, Melissa H, Michael R, Mykle H, Nicole C, Nicole C, Paige S, Patrick W, Philip O, Randy C, Richard T, Rick S, Robert F-H, Robin P, Rose O, Sam R, Sonja N, Sonya B, Steve M, Steven R, Teresa M, Terri P, Tim E, Tony R, Travis G, Troy C, Tyler S, Uriah T, Vikranth V, Whitney S, William P, Yusuf A, Zak G and Zoe W

Explanation

On February 20th, 2010, I thought it would be fun to write a flash story for each of my friends on Facebook. I had 103 friends at the time, so I decided to limit each story to 103 words or less. Twelve stories later, I realized this wasn't going to be as easy I imagined. A little over six weeks after starting this, tonight actually, I wrote the last one.

And that's all she wrote.

Well, not quite. I followed one rule in particular. I decided to post each story to my friend's profiles as Facebook listed them, in first name starting alphabetical order. I also wrote the stories before looking who was next on the list to let as little I knew about that person influence the story I was sending to them.
I lost a couple friends during this time, and since I wasn't adding any new friends until I finished, I simply replaced lost friends with whoever had requested my friendship next. I also lost one friend who I had already wrote a story for and didn't want to lose the story I had written so I gave it to the next person in line. This caused a kink in the whole alphabetical order thing but so be it. Nobody's perfect.

I took a little liberty on the 103 words or less rule in that I considered any hyphenated word as one word. Some of these stories were edited for punctuation and other things and may not appear the same as they do on Facebook. Don't like it? Talk to my lawyer. (Meow!)

For better or worse, I present to you the results of my writing experiment.

Story #1

Two pieces of cheese needed a slice of bread real bad. They spent most of the day in parks talking to pigeons, but the birds only knew where the crumbs fall. That night, the pieces murdered a baker in an attempt to steal his brain and get the information that would help complete their existence.

Story #2

God fucked the universe. God fucked Satan. God fucked Adam. God fucked Lillith. Lillith fucked Adam. Adam tried to fuck Lillith but she wouldn't let him. Adam fucked God. God fucked Lillith, then fucked Eve. Adam fucked Eve. Satan fucked Eve. Eve fucked Satan. Eve fucked Adam. Adam fucked Satan. Adam and Eve fucked God. God got pissed off and fucked everybody until Jesus showed up... but that's a story for another time.

Story #3

The horrid stench of snot breathed itself upon the walls of the room. He sniffled. "Not again," he told himself, "I won't do it again." The slurch and swallop of the mucus as it crawled the walls accentuated the sound of construction outside. Or was it demolition? Didn't matter with the windows foiled over. He seemed to remember an eviction notice months ago. "Ah-" he started, but quickly stuffed two wine corks up each nostril. "Not again," he told himself, "I won't let it happen again."

Story #4

Harold blasted through office doors and down the sidewalk half a block towards his parked two-door coupe. He hurriedly dug around in his pants pockets for loose change. One quarter is all he needed. One quarter is exactly what Garvinel: Defender of Parking Meters was holding as he stood next to Harold's car. "It'll never happen again," Harold pleaded. "You are correct," Garvinel responded, "It shall never." Garvinel lifted his blade and chopped Harold in two. He dropped the quarter in the meter and patted it like a child.

Story #5

Timber drifts in the sea. There was an accident here. The fish all swim on by. Even the sun doesn't stick around. I release my bowels as I let go of the wood. Sinking to the bottom takes another 100,000 years.

Story #6

A semi-truck hauling a transparent cube stopped in front of Central Station. Riders waiting for trains to arrive glanced over. Inside the cube, standing next to a grand piano, was the Maestro. He bowed to the riders and sat. As he struck the first chords of an epic masterpiece of modern music the riders noticed no sounds were audible, and that in fact he was playing behind sound-proof glass. They danced anyway. The young students swayed their heads, a couple slow danced and two punk-rawkers moshed hard. The Maestro finished his piece, stood and bowed as the truck drove away.

Story #7

The crabgrass walks alone. The bluegrass has fled for warmer waters. With all this hay and wheat floating around you just know the underground is going to want a piece. Watch for palm trees, they can surprise even the wisest of mosses. Let's not spread out too fast. We don't want to alert them to our presence just yet.

Story #8

A cold cigarette marks the spot where my old lady jumped to her death. "It won't look like a suicide if I'm wearing a parachute pack," she told me, "And this way you'll get to keep the insurance money." I laughed at the sight of her standing on our 40th floor apartment balcony. "Honey," I said, "It's raining, come inside." She smiled all the way down. I laughed all the way to the bank.

Story #9

We crunched pickles 'til the break of dawn. Our vinegar dreams clouded the high noon sun. By twilight we were mighty hungry. Once again, the cucumber's lament becomes my divine appetite.

Story #10

Anything he says here is gonna be stupid beyond belief. He's not even looking at her face. He's way too high. Fuck, he fucked up. It's this thing see he met a girl in Jersey but her friend in Detroit waslike, "WHAT???" and the priest and the toboggan. We were thinking like 55 or so.

Story #11

The spaceship meowed. It didn't want to dock at Spacebase 69. "I don't like the way their engineers handle me," it thought. "The future is too horny for this space cat." The ship turned around and shot full speed into the nearest sun. A full complement of 128 people on board were all instantly incinerated. The funerals will be held tomorrow on the purple fields of Keylar III.

Story #12

The tray sat undisturbed, but the man barely sat at all. Instead, he had a quiet agitation about him. This created enough displacement in the air around him that he more or less hovered over the seat cushion he appeared to be occupying. He pretended to read but knew his mind was securely on the tray. Looking over at it only made it worse. He thought about kite flying. The red streamers warped into metal handles, the very fabric curving in it's shiny silverness. No use. He blasted off the couch and over to the tray. One peek was all he really needed.

Story #13

A thousand severed dog heads litter the apartment floor. Yapping from new neighbors below. I wash my hands. A Bichon Frise, curly lap dog, nature's most evil form. A thousand and one severed dog heads litter the apartment floor. Crying from new neighbors below. A smile.

Story #14

Silly Jerome spent his days on top of tall buildings. He danced from sunrise-to-set. The people down on the streets worried Silly would fall, so they erected a giant net suspended 50 feet off the ground covering the entire city. The next day Silly Jerome looked all around him in dismay. "There is no more fun in dancing on roofs," he shouted down at the people. "You have ruined it for everyone. How shall we ever die if you keep trying to stop us!" The people looked up just in time to see Silly Jerome put a gun to his head and fire.

Story #15

The soldier ant agreed to help the grass blades. She set off at once for the great cavern. Inside lived a dreaded beast always sleeping save for one hour a week. During this hour, the beast would emerge from the cavern and let out one long continuous roar that did only cease after it finished decapitating every single grass blade across the land. After several days travel, the ant approached the beast and was successful in severing one its main arteries. The next week the beast did not emerge. The grass blades had been saved.

Story #16

A man awoke this morning to discover his arm chained to the Earth. "Not AGAIN," he whined, sawing off the arm and wondering what was for breakfast.

Story #17

Derek entered a thrift store wearing tattered rags. He grabbed some nice clean clothes off the rack and dressed in the fitting room. He burst out the room still wearing the unpaid for clothing, laughing like a hyena-man jester. Derek ran right out of the store and into the middle of the road doing an "I succeeded" dance. He was run over by a driver paying more attention to passing tits than the road. The driver exited his vehicle and traded clothes with Derek. Inspecting them, he thought, "Too bloody." He looked up to see the thrift store and birthed a brilliant idea.

Story #18

A boy sat by the sea playing guitar. A mermaid swam up to him and asked if he was really playing the instrument. The boy nodded his head, entranced by her beauty. "Cool," she kissed him, "You keep strumming and I'll keep swimming." The boy was in love. He jumped into the sea after her. The mermaid, impressed, asked him to join her in a swim across the sea. They swam for many weeks, but eventually the boy tired, began to drown and cried out for help. The mermaid didn't understand, for everything that belongs in the sea can swim.

Story #19

A boy sat in the park writing letters. An angel flew by him and asked if it could read one of the letters. The boy nodded his head, enchanted by its majesty. "Stellar," it hugged him, "You keep writing and I'll keep flying." The boy was in like. He leapt into the air after it. The angel, impressed, asked him to join it in a flight up to heaven. They flew for many weeks, but eventually the boy tired, began to fall and cried out for help. The angel didn't understand, for everything that belongs in the air can fly.

Story #20

A boy sat at a party being sober. A bottle of whiskey walked by and asked if he wanted a shot. The boy shook his head, enraged with his forwardness. "Neat," he toasted him, "You keep clear headed and I'll keep drinking." The boy was in hate. He stood and held out a glass. The bottle of whiskey, impressed, asked him to join him in a drinking competition. They drank for many weeks, but eventually the boy tired, began to vomit and cried out for help. The bottle of whiskey didn't understand, for everything that belongs to the night can drink.

Story #21

Fork took a less conspicuous route. He was after that no good Spoon. Fucker kidnapped Dish and they haven't been seen since. Fork got a hot tip in the cutlery district of Shanghai and was on their trail once again. He came to a split in the road and rather than choosing a path, he settled down right in the middle and started a family.

Story #22

The tree stump was quite content. The old osprey couldn't understand. The old osprey confronted the stump about this. "I'm perfectly happy with my place in the universe," the stump claimed. "I was happier when you were a tree and I had a place to rest my tired feet," the bird sighed. The stump asked what a tree was and the osprey explained that the stump was the reincarnation of what used to be a maple tree. The tree stump asked the old osprey to leave it alone. It spent the rest of eternity wanting only to die and become a tree.

Story #23

In the game of fear, the winner is the weakest. That's what our teacher told us. When the class clown asked her who the loser is, she unhinged her jaw, grabbed the boy and bit off his head. Most of the class nervously laughed it off, but a pool of urine had already formed in my chair. I even bit down on my tongue to keep from crying. She walked up to me smiling. "Class," she announced, "It appears we have a new winner."

Story #24

Granted, it was a silly thing for Carla to do, but no one could deny her attempts were dead serious. To live like the moss that grew upon the rocks in her backyard became more than an obsession, it changed her completely. For months, one could meander by and see her naked body, painted green, wrapped around a football sized stone next to a burly looking maple. Sadly, a group of scientists happened by and removed all the moss, including Carla, to research a new form of bio-oil. Her last moments were spent greasing up the engine of an SUV in Austin, Texas.

Story #25

"Ready. Set. GO!" And they were off. They geronimoed over the cliff and did cartwheels all the way down to a frozen lake. Hitting the ice like patties slapped upon the grill they slide, belly side up, gaining momentum as the moose looked on and sighed. He was remembering a long lost love, a katydid, and their problematic attempts at fornication. "It'd be too much for any leaf bug," she had explained, referring to his giant penis. Meanwhile, they reached the edge of the lake and fell off, plummeting into an abyss of moose drool, dissolving into joyful regret.

Story #27

Two play-doh perverts 69ing in the street doesn't cause much of a stir, but when the whole fucking factory goes out for a sausage/pie feast it tends to raise a few eyebrows. Millions of them. Maybe billions. The friction was leaving clay stains on the pavement. People were grumbling, wiping the moans of ecstasy off their shoes after crossing the street. Thank god that school bus full of special needs kids appeared. Thank god those kids hadn't had lunch yet.

Story #26

Accurate Giraffe was in the know. "The sky is blue," the young girl said. "No," said Accurate Giraffe, "The atmosphere simply scatters blue light more than any other color." The girl ran home crying. A boy walked by, counting his chore money. "I'm rich!" he said. "Actually," said Accurate Giraffe, "That paper tender is worthless. It is only a promise from the government that it's worth the printed amount in gold or silver." The boy ran home crying. Accurate Giraffe was feeling quite proud of his work when a poacher happened by and shot him down. Nobody cried when Accurate Giraffe passed on.

Story #28

Phoney Baloney left the salon and headed for the saloon sporting a $40 haircut. He sat down at the bar, bought a forty and started chugging. Nilly Willy the bartender shook his head in disgust. Phoney caught wind of this disapproval, "Fuck y'all!" He started crying, smashed the bottle against the bar and fell from stool onto his ass. He began speaking in a British Accent. "Sorry, chaps, I've been a bit bugger in the head today, I think this shampoo is the culprit." Nilly only nodded his head. Part of him felt sorry, part of him eyed the shotgun under the bar.

Story #29

"So what if I'm drunk," it rotated. I glanced over at three eyes staring down a multiple sclerosis patient and bent over to take it in the ass. Again and again, the porcupine violated my anus until each point felt like a broken promise. I love you, I really do, but I'm so perforated from dealing with your wants that I can't even inhale without losing my shit. Oh wait, you wanna pour another one? Okay.

Story #30

Those tiny hands and feet made it easy for him to stumble. He tried out for sports as a kid and shortly after damaging his pride discovered the joys of alcohol to escape pain. Only one person ever heckled him, said, "Yo Tiny, is your dick as shriveled as your other appendages?" The heckler enjoyed three seconds of laughter before his eyes were violated by tiny hands and ripped out of their sockets. Squeezing them in his tiny palms he screamed, "You see them now?"

Story #31

Larry woke up and the voice inside his head announced, "Boo! I'm inside your head." to which Larry responded, "AHHH!!!" until the man in white came and stuck happy sauce in his veins, knocking him out until lunch. In the dining hall, the voice creeped back up exclaiming, "Nope, still here!" and Larry attempted to escape the voice by climbing onto chairs and tables and walls and other Larrys. When Larry fell asleep that night, hoping the voice was gone forever, he dreamt of his father crawling into a hole he had drilled into Larry's head and promising to stay with Larry always.

Story #32

He grips the dirty old man in pencil thin talons. The Ssarlux eats the homeless. With incisors curved to carve soft flesh, he pierces the cat like it ain't no thang. The Ssarlux eats our pets. I'm whining and complaining and tugging his tail while he chews his way through the next new fad. I'm the Ssarlux's wife and I'm begging for attention. The Ssarlux eats everything else but he won't eat me.

Story #33

The protest parade was in full swing. The four legged duck led the way, its tail pendulating in the wind. "Fuck the current state of things," it cried. "EYANDA!" responded the marchers. The mayor was impressed. "But what is it you're protesting," he asked. The duck barked and the marchers used their signs to beat the mayor to pulp. A young nerd scoured the internet as two marchers strode by carrying a large "EYANDA" banner. "Is it like an African word or something," the nerd queried. "EYANDA! EYANDA! EYANDA!" the marchers screamed, strangling the geek blue with the banner and marching onward.

Story #34

My mechanical legs don't always respond exactly how I'd like them to. "Shall we go for a walk," I ask them and they respond, "What's the point?" I think they're depressed. They prefer to lie in bed all day when I really should be going to work or at least relieving myself in the toilet instead of my pants. "Could we go downstairs and eat," I tend to grumble, "I'm quite starved." But they only get cross and snap, "Why don't you just go yourself!" I vomit a lot of blood these days. It could be worse, think where I'd be without technology.

Story #35

The wind blows grins in my face. I watch LSD crabs swirling, swelling and surrounding oil puddles to lap up with enamel tongues. I toss an orange glance in her direction. She pretends like I don't exist. I take it slow, one foot at a time crunching snapping into an ocean filled to the brim with leaves. It's autumn all year long and you go to bed each night with dread certainty that tomorrow will be colder. She hasn't even taken her clothes off yet. I wonder if she'll ever remember what it's like to be a kid again.

Story #36

The yawn stretched inside out, under and over and all around. It caused rumblings in the bellies of slaves working on an island 12,450 miles away and no less than four world leaders felt influenced to end their lives by suicide. The yawn itself wasn't reported very much in any of the media outlets, but the effects it has had on our way of life will continue to be analyzed and debated until the next time someone dares to exhale in such a dangerous manner so cataclysmic a phenomenon as air.

Story #37

Balloon Head Boy squeaked. He was convinced his parents were trying to kill him. They redecorated his room as a birthday surprise: Dart boards were hung on each wall, new table saw for all his wood art projects, a "study hard" bed frame with four sharpened pencil posts... Who the fuck do they think they're fooling? But he loved them and he wanted to respect their efforts. He exhaled helium and entered. He never even saw the hummingbird feeder near his open window, nor the birds flying erratic circles around it. When he popped, it felt like spiders.

Story #38

There was a time when the circus shrunk into itself and people had a hard time locating it. By and by, the Ringmasters and Firebreathers and Tightropists and Beardladies could care less. They were still doing what they loved to do, only in much smaller forms. The only ones who seemed to mind were the fleas who had trained so hard to stand out so tall among their fellow performers. They would have been much more depressed had they not realized their fellow performer's new sizing made them easy prey for recently out-of-work insects.

Story #39

Grandiose Mr. Kirpwell had a sock obsession. Never took them off. He wore his baby booties until they fell apart around his feet. Did I tell you about the time he discovered knee-highs? Forget about it! The worst was when he bathed. Wet, years old sock smell permeated throughout his apartment. His feet ultimately paid for his sock wearing stubbornness, turning gangrene. When the doctor asked him to wiggle his toes, he shrugged and asked what toes are. When the doctor tried to remove the socks, Mr. Kirpwell thought he was peeling the skin off his legs and his brain exploded.

Story #40

The baby emerged, struggling to free itself from the vagina that begged it to come back inside for just a little longer. The baby popped completely out and fell right into a wood chipper. Blood and guts splaying out the other end as the next baby emerged and met birth with the same fate. Several million babies later, they started wising up and eventually a baby was successful in evading the chipper and instead landed on the ground. It quickly discovered the ground was made of nothing but rotting baby carcasses, fellow siblings who also succeeded in beating life at its own game.

Story #41

The assassin crossed himself before taking aim and popping the head off his intended target. He prayed for the fallen and thought, "Now I must confess." In the mountains, he found her by her voice, the rock painted red. He knelt before her. "Bless me mother, for I have sinned," he said, "It has been four days, sixteen hours and thirty-two minutes since my last confession." The rock threw herself at his head, knocking him unconscious. When he awoke, she was gone. The name and location of his next target was written in the dirt where she had been.

Story #42

The rumors were too tempting to ignore. The commander was summoned by the king and ordered to investigate. An island one hundred kilometers off their coastline, uninhabited and said to be the last unclaimed territory on the planet. An entire legion of the kingdom's best men were led by the commander to claim it in their most benevolent leader's name. They arrived only to be captured by a large force operated by a rival nation. The enemy leader explained that the rest of their army was already burning the commander's capital city to the ground as they spoke.

Story #43

The dealer wasn't understanding Nigel's predicament. "You see, I really need those roses. I want to smell roses and you have roses so, naturally, you should give me your roses so that I can smell them." The dealer was fine with this exchange, it's what he does after all, but there was one small holdup. "I told you before, a dollar a rose or ten for a dozen." Nigel sighed, "Well," and produced a knife. "You can't say I didn't ask politely." Nigel stabbed the dealer and ran off with the roses. The next morning, Nigel took a shit. It smelled like feces.

Story #44

I've done it. I've created the Next Big Thing. It's gonna be HUGE. Course I gotta keep it a secret until this year's annual Exploit Your Idea For Fame & Fortune Festival (E.Y.I.F.F&F.F. #23 FTW, Yo!). That's when I can unveil the Next Big Thing to a unsuspecting public and blow their minds. They'll call me a genius, throw everything and the kitchen sink at me. I'll smile as my teeth absorb it all in, straight to my ego. It's gonna be fucking great. Not like last year. I'll get more than fifteen minutes this time. I can't lose.

Story #45

I don't understand what's going on. I'm sitting in a bowl of blood. It's not mine, I know that much. I seem to be encased in some sort of fleshy cage. I can kick it but it won't break. There's this tube, it's pumping cake directly into my stomach. I'm getting nauseous. I can't even tell if I'm right side up or upside down. Something's happening now. I feel myself getting crushed. The force is pushing me down, down into a slow painful death. I was born thirteen seconds later.

Story #46

"Meh," said the skydiver, diving with no pack on. He landed on a grieving widow standing over her husband's grave. "My bad," said the skydiver. "Meh," replied the widow, taking out a gun and shooting her heart. Missing her body completely, the bullet ricocheted off a priest mutilating his genitals with scissors and embedded itself into a drunkard in mid-fall from the skyscraper he had leapt off. "Oops," said the bullet. "Meh," said the drunkard as he hit the ground. A janitor saw the whole thing. "Meh," he said, downing an entire bottle of chemical cleaner and stepping inside for a cigarette.

Story #47

The furnace is bleeding fire all over the basement. The children are hiding in the attic from their parents. The parents are inhaling fumes and pretending to be busy. The neighbors are talking about the clouds and how the smoke compliments them so well. The emergency services aren't around in general. The fire never asked to be brought into existence, but now that's it here it feels the need to raise hell. "Only three more stories to the attic," the fire says, "Only ten more houses to downtown."

Story #48

"Get back here, ya stupid bitch!" She bolted out the door of her apartment and ran down the street as fast as her three hundred pound calves would take her. Two houses down she had to stop to catch her breath. "Where ya think ya going," a voice behind her asked. Her rubber eyes inflated. "Turn around." She did. She quivered under the shadow of the tub of butter. "Now," it said, "Eat me!" She wiped the tears from her face and nodded her head. She scooped handfuls of his brains into her mouth, promising herself this was the last tub.

Story #49

Our god is the most awesomest god was the cry of the people. "Whose god," the skeptics asked. But no one listens to skeptics, they can't even shit anymore without questioning the benefit/futility of such an action. Oh, it's true, that god is certainly the most awesome. I mean, they said it after all, how could someone say something that wasn't? So come on, people! Let's pat each others backs and dance. All in the name of the most awesomest and greatest ever. "Have you heard the news," said one, "this god is the tits!" I have to admit, he's on to something.

Story #50

The phone rang once. I forgot to pick it up. "Hello," I said. The phone rang again. Now I was suspicious. "Who is this," I demanded. The phone rang a third time and now was I worried. "Never heard of you. What do you want?" The phone rang a fourth time and now I was angry. "Listen, buddy," I yelled, "You call here again and I'll slit your throat." The answering machine picked up and I felt relief. I heard me telling the caller to try back at another time. I'm so much better at handling people than myself.

Story #51

Once, he felt too much like a third wheel. For when they drank fifths and carried six-shooters, all seven of them, he ate while the others talked of dressing to the nines and selling dime bags. Eleven minutes later, he had a dozen reasons to feel unlucky and fearful of what comes next.

Story #52

There has to be an easier way. I mean, it was easy enough breaking into this guys house, hacking off the top of his head with my machete and devouring his brains while he's still alive, but it's too damned messy. I'm getting blood and tissue all over my recently manicured hands. I guess it just comes with the territory... Huh? What? Oh, wow! That's such a great idea. "Use a spoon". So simple. I can't believe I didn't think of it before. Thank you for your help. By the way, your brains are absolutely delicious!

Story #53

The captain was in no mood. "Sir, perhaps you should see this for yourself." He grumbled as he rose from bed and walked out onto the deck. "It's the rounded part of our hull, sir." The captain leaned over the railing and immediately heard it. "Frosty," the hull cried, "Granular apostles in meat sauce playing hooky from tube socks in renegade popsicles!" The captain shrugged. "Shoot the fucker and get some sleep." The deckhand did as he was told and sunk the ship. The captain slept quite well for the rest of eternity.

Story #54 (From an Idea by Chloe Fritz)

"And what do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Vanjulion," the judge asked. James swallowed the lump in his throat. "It wasn't traveling," he pleaded. His lawyer shook his head, knowing they didn't have a case. "On the contrary," the prosecutor piped up, "We have witnesses who swear they saw you take several steps while holding the ball, never dribbling once." James tried to yell out a defense, but his body was cramped too tightly in the cannon and his voice gave out. The judge had heard enough. "Fire when ready, officer."

Story #55

Our father's a printer, our mother's a photocopier. Are we doomed to be nothing more than duplicates? Sure our ink has long since dried and, save for some expensive whiteout surgery, we can't change what's there, but does the printed text define who we are? Were we not trees once? Did we not, over time, change into wood pulp? How many chemical changes did we have to undergo to attain our current state? All we know is someday, eventually, we'll get shredded and discarded. Our only comfort found in the hope of being recycled to continue striving toward perfection.

Story #56

Boo. I scared you, didn't I? Have you called your mother today? Have you called your mother today? I killed mine. Such a pain. Her, not the killing. Killing her was the easiest decision I ever made. Much easier than when I decided to kill God. God was such a little baby when he went too. All that begging and screaming. Shit, you'd think a deity would have more pride than that. Oh goody, here comes my forgetfulness... There. No more worrying, no more thinking. Gosh, it sure gets boring here in limbo. Oh well.

Story #57

"Mmm," said the shower drain. The thick stream of urine it was ingesting was a nice change from the warm, soapy water it usually received. The human was slightly disgusted with itself, but figured the risk of slipping trying to wet walk to the toilet outweighed pissing all over the place where it cleaned itself on a daily basis. "Burp," said the shower drain.

Story #58

Squirrel was nervous. He was being rushed through corridor after corridor, signing papers and getting sized up by Earth's grunt workers. Porcupine in front of him wasn't fairing any better, nor was Tarantula behind him. "Stand up tall," came the command. He lifted himself as high as he could go. The worker smirked at him. "Is that all ya got?" More corridors. More tests. Finally he was brought before Earth herself. "Raise your tail and bend over," the worker grunted. He did so. There was a slight gasp from Earth, then silence. "Nice testes," she said, "Your species will do just fine."

Story #59

Mongolia was pissed. They weren't going to take this sitting down. "Olsen Twins be damned!" and "Death to MK&A!" banners were strung up everywhere. The country was tired of the movies, the TV specials, the clothing and everything else those two little bitches stood for. The ranks were swelling. The unrest was capped. It was time: L.A. was in for a shit storm and those fucking Barbie doll wannabes were the anus eye of it.

Story #60

Shannon was skeptical. "This water tastes... fishy," she said to the department head. The head laughed. "I assure you, Ms. Cannon, New York City's water is supreme in quality and purity. "Bullshit," cried the tiny shellfish microorganisms swimming in the bottle of H2O he was holding. "Shh," he told them. "What was that," Shannon asked. "Nothing," the department head responded.

Story #61

Ten seconds passed. "Hi," said I. "Hello," said she, "How's life?" I shrugged. "It's okay, I've only been here for about twenty seconds." She pointed behind me. "Who's that?" He waved. "Hi, I just got here. What are you two up to?" She and I shrugged. "Yo," said her. I closed my eyes. It was getting too crowded in here. "Why are you're eyes closed," asked him. I screamed.

Story #62

She walked out the door carrying a cardboard box in her arms. She stopped at the curbside. The Junkie Van barreled around the corner and skidded to a stop right outside her house. A pale faced wonder rolled his window down and nodded to her. She smiled and tossed the box in the back of the van. He handed her a needle and baggie of small white powder. She frowned. "I thought one full box of empty promises was worth two baggies." He shook his head. "They aren't worth as much these days." He put the van in gear. "Welcome to the club."

Story #63

When will it be Tito's day? Why, on Tito's Day of course! Finally, he will get his due. Parades and processions, awards and dinners. And on the night of this momentous occasion, when everybody assembles outside city hall to watch the Mayor of Musicville give Tito the keys to a semi-livable studio apartment in the inner city, the people will shout, "Who the fuck is Tito and why does he get a day?". Inevitably, somebody will respond, "I think he was in ABBA." and all will be well in the universe. All will be well on Tito's Day.

Story #64

Satan has a thing for Lucky Charms. Bowl after bowl are consumed in the molten pits of Hell. General Mills was having a hard time keeping up with the unholy demand. They tried having priests bless the cereal, but the devil just soaked them in the blood of virgins to counteract the spell. Eventually they had to start including crosses in with the hearts, stars, clovers...etc. Now Satan has to have his minions pick them out before he can eat. At least this has slowed down his purchasing trends.

Story #65

You can understand why they'd be irate. "She didn't even tell us of her plans," the prosecutor representing the corporations said. The judge understood, it wasn't very nice of her to leave without saying goodbye. Did Gladys even have a defense? The prosecutor removed his glasses. "Your honor, we, the corporations of the world, are seeking no less than forty billion dollars in damages for the death by natural causes of Mrs. Tardy." The judge looked to the jury. They were swinging by nooses. "Fuck 'em," said the judge, banging his gavel in agreement with the prosecution.

Story #66

"My art," cried the artist, "My fucking art has been stolen." The policedude gave a hang ten sign. "Whoa, bra. What's the sitch?" The artist clung to the officer's bermuda shorts. "It's my art," he sobbed, "I left it out on the street corner with a 'FREE' sign and somebody took it." The policedude flipped his blond locks to the side. "Oh, gnarly!" he said as he pulled out his surfboard and began bashing in the heads of random pedestrians. "Does that help," the officer asked. "Sorta," smiled the artist.

Story #67

All my teeth fell out in North Korea. Now they're being held hostage. I sent in a mercenary group of dentists to recover them, but it's been weeks and I fear the worse. Applesauce is starting to taste like shit to me.

Story #68

A ten dollar bill flew from Moscow to Chicago. As soon as it arrived in O'Hare airport, it realized the mistake it had made in going there. "I'm not important here," it thought, "I'm not special." The bill turned right back around and got on a plane headed for Rio De Janeiro. It was a longer flight but the price paid was worth it.

Story #69

The geep-shoat hated its miserable existence. It was cared for by no less than forty geneticists and awed over daily by the media. They fed it only the highest quality feed and pet it vigourously. Sure, his parents had been the first pair of sheep-goat chimeras ever to produce offspring, but he could give a fuck. Actually, he could give a fuck. He was so bored humping his four concubine shoat-geeps all over his six acre pasture that he had resorted to bribing one of the female researchers into jacking it off once a week. "Bah," the geep-shoat said, and everyone laughed.

Story #70

A yawn escaped her mouth. "I'm free," the yawn exclaimed. A passing child swallowed the yawn. "Take that," the child giggled, suddenly feeling the urge to pass gas. "Fuck you," the yawn-fart squealed, rising up into the atmosphere and joining it's particle brothers and sisters in their plot to destroy the flesh cages down below always imprisoning them against their will.

Story #71

A twelve ounce can of beer, five ounce glass of wine, and one and a half ounce shot of vodka all walked into a bar. A few hours later, nobody was drunk and everyone drove home safely.

Story #72

"I fucked a frog," Frank croaked. "I give great head," Grace choked. Harold had a hard time swallowing that, but still said unassisted, "I hump the handicapped." Arnold, Brock and Chase entered the pond and waded for a response. Sally screamed, "I'm anal retentive!" but nobody gave a shit.

Story #73

Wifey was sick of his shit. "Hersbands," she thought, "They're all the same." The bald man standing behind her laughed. "You think this is funny," she rhetoritized, "I'd like to see you get feces stains outta dishware." Another arms folded, hearty laugh. "I'll show you a trick," baldy said, "Works every time or my name isn't Veritably Clean." Wifey eyed him suspiciously. "Okay, Mister," she said, handing him a bowl full of her hersband's anal chocolate. He dumped the poo over his head and they had smelly sex on the kitchen counter.

Story #74

The baby shark chased the baby seal. The baby human clubbed the baby seal and the baby shark bit the baby human. The baby planet watched all of this with faint interest. It was trying to get the baby star's attention before that baby black hole fucked them all up real good.

Story #75

Two left feet were walking down the street looking for some action. They found a breast down on the corner turning tricks. She was asking too much for just a striptease so they kept walking. They decided to get massages from a hand that offered a happy ending involving nail clippers and a bottle of Gold Bond powder. They swore to each other they'd never confess to their respective right feet their infidelity. What happens in the body stays in the body.

Story #76

Neurons fired and his head popped like a grape. Quit it, quit it, quit IT! The giant heart floated over to my pole. "What were you doing?" I looked away from its beating eyes. "Nothing," I said. The heart floated closer and said, "Damn right, nothing." The heart floated away. Phew! I repositioned myself on the pole and continued staring down into the infinite blackness below. I could hop off if I desired, but there's no certainty that it ends if I do. Just don't think. Just don't think. Just don't th...

Story #77

I don't like the mall. It sc-sc-scares me! All those windows. All those railings. Too safe. Too fucking safe. Get this. They even have security guards there. I tried to blow up my local mall once. I bought ad space on late night public access television and announced a huge sale on designer lampshades. Got the whole town to show up in one great mass, but I was trigger happy and set off the bomb early. I had placed it in the crappier of the two frozen yogurt stands, the one that smells of Pine-Sol. I only killed the manager. Pitiful.

Story #78

This Jerk has a Jean Jacket Jalopy. He drove it here, he drove it there. He drove it to work, that fucking Jerk. Denim was so eighty years ago. He still sports a bushy mustache too. Next thing you know, he'll be asking his wife to get a breast reduction. Her tits are fine the way god made them. Leave her be. That Jerk had a Jean Jacket Jalopy. He drove it loose, he drove it stiff, I cut his brake lines and he went over a cliff. Fuck you, Jerk!

Story #79

Standard issue regrets leave me wanting more. Who could be satisfied being torn over a stupid missed opportunity with an old crush? I need to feel the remorse of an accidental grenade tossed into a school bus full of kindergartners. Crucify me already. Make me love it or hate it. Just make me and make it and let's be done with each other. Okay, mom. Nice talking to you too. Say hi to dad for me.

Story #80

The Follower chopped off the head of another Forsaken. The Leader did a circular jig around the table, shouting, pointing and making assumptive remarks with his eyes. The next Forsaken was led onto the table, which the Follower was standing upon while holding his giant blade. The Follower chopped off the head of another Forsaken. "Wait," said the Follower, "What is it again that I'm doing?" The Leader stopped his jig long enough for his eyes to make an ass out of the Follower and himself. A slow smile melted over the Follower's face and he nodded his head. "Oh. Right."

Story #81

They wore 'Save the Mosquitos' t-shirts because they were West Nile virus fetishists. They weren't painting white roses red. They weren't painting red dresses black. They had cans of blue spray paint so they could continue to see the sky at night. "Stars are overrated," a spokesperson for their group told media outlets. When asked what their political motivations were, the spokesperson replied, "When I die, I'll live in decomposition six feet under the ground. Why? Where will you go?"

Story #82

The boys all piled around the TV. More and more of them came pouring through the door, through the windows, through the chimney and through gaping holes in the floorboards from underground tunnels they dug. Soon the entire living room was wall to wall flesh and appendages. Forty of the guys accidentally lost their anal virginity to roving fingers and toes. "Shh," yelled the house's owner, "It's starting." The TV announced that this year's broadcast of the Super Bowl would air commercial free. The house exploded.

Story #83

She was found half buried under the ice, completely frozen. She had been eating a kielbasa, two bites were left. The oceans were puddles. Mining the seabeds was candy. As unfortunate luck would have it, she had no identity. They decided to replace her bones with coral. It worked. She became obsessed with stability. Four kids later she started taking antidepressants. Sources tell me she was last seen on a boat headed for colder weather.

Story #84

Three random people on the street were kidnapped and led blindfolded into the basement of a downtown warehouse. "What the hell is going on," asked the first. "I'm going to die," the second told herself. "Oh shit," said the third. The man in the garbage bag suit walked into the room and paced back and forth in front of the three. They could hear the rustling of his shirt and pants and continued thinking ominous thoughts. "The third," said the man. "What," asked the first. "I'm dead," the second told herself. "I fucking knew it," said the third, "No such thing as justice."

Story #85

The fat lady hummed to herself as she opened her refrigerator door. Hot xanthan gum sprayed all over her face. She screamed as she toppled over in searing pain. The audience applauded, the gum took a bow and the janitors mopped up before going out for a bite to eat.

Story #86

"Time for bed," said the Sun. "YAY!!!" said the People, scurrying to and fro and lining up around the equator. "Phew," thought the Planet, "About time the little shits took a break from fighting and fucking." The People stood in silence as the Sun passed them one by one, making sure they were in their pajamas and had brushed their teeth. Satisfied with the People's effort, the Sun turned itself off. The People proceeded to pair off and went to their houses to sleep in separate beds. "Maybe when we're older," the People thought, "We'll earn the right to sleep together."

Story #87

Resource rain choked the air over the city in a glittery haze. Inhaling gold had become the trend. How much can you make your lungs worth before you suffocate? One guy's respiratory system was appraised with a value of over fifty grand. That was after spending just two hours standing next to the smokestacks on the roof of that new oxygen conversion factory. Who wants to live forever? Might as well go out luxuriously. Sure it gets harder and harder to breathe every day, but you should see the necklace I bought with the oil I coughed up. It's fucking fabulous.

Story #88

Uh oh, here I go again. Down the hatch! Blech, all this acid makes me nauseous. Now this way, now that way. Free fall into a splash! Swirl, swirl, swirl and now it's dark. Okay, now get strained through this, filtered through that. Sploosh! Back home! Finally. Phew, it's a bit warm. Oh. Oh no! Not again. Up, up, up and now I'm floating. Ahhhh... AHH! Falling again! Splish! Joined by many more. Now what? No, really? Sure, whatever. Fuck. Down the hatch again.

Story #89

Jealous Owen owns a nail gun. He has taken to destroying anything he feels he could never attain. "Too poor for a white picket fence," he growls, firing several nails into the wood. He passes by a portrait studio and smacks his head. Nails slice through the air and slam into picture frames. Trust Fund Terry runs up to Jealous Owen and excitedly shows him his new diamond encrusted dart board. "Fuck you," he screams, laying six bulls-eyes into Terry's investment and one accident into Terry's chest.

Story #90

Macaulay Culkin tends bar in my town. I swear to god. Go in to The Toaster any Saturday night and he'll be there leaning back on the bar with that sly grin, one hand holding a glass, the other wiping it dry with a rag. Fronky, the town drunk, he always forgets. Every day he goes in there and ties on a few, and the next thing you know he's eying Mac hard. "Hey," he'll yell, "Hey do this." and he'll slap his hands over his cheeks and scream. Culkin cold cocks him every time. Funniest fucking shit ever.

Story #91

Crosby was halfway to work when he got the feeling he had forgotten something back at home. "That's it," he said, snapping his fingers, "I left a door-to-door salesman in my kitchen." He didn't have time to turn around or he'd be late for work, so he returned home on his lunch break. Crosby entered his kitchen and the salesman was standing there, explaining to a blender why his StabOn brand knives were better equipped for liquefying things than it was. The blender noticed Crosby in the doorway and screamed, "Intruder!" The salesman quickly demonstrated the stabbing quality of his blades on Crosby.

Story #92

The kids exited the schoolhouse and stood in the lawn out front. They were waiting for the total solar eclipse to occur. Way up above, the Moon was casually walking by the Sun. "Hey Sun," said the Moon, "Whatcha doing?" The Sun said, "Hey, Moon. I'm watching the Earth." The Moon stood between the Sun and the Earth. "Oh yeah? Is it any good?" The Sun became irate. "Get outta the way! I can't see shit now." The Moon stumbled to move and accidentally crashed into the Earth, destroying it. "Oops," the Moon said and apologized profusely to a stunned Sun.

Story #93

In other words, sir: You're moby dick. Your bacons are barbed and need a rest. Everything from the upper up is fucked. Minces are streaming ari sized bunnies and your toes is leaking almond fulls of mucus. Yes, that loaf of yours has seen better days, it's almost as bad as those metrics you suffer from. My recommendation? Head over to the bathtub and place a supersonic in your germans. Forget about your corn in the daft, take a vacation in Poor man's Gruel and write your life a new morning. What, are you mutt and jeff? Move it! Okay, taters.

Story #94

The government just announced it's gay. Most of its citizens suspected as much, but I still found the news slightly odd. "Honestly," I told the government, "I already knew you enjoy fucking other governments, but I think deep down you're bi." The government got pretty upset with this remark. It started railing on about how I'm not a true friend and only a bigot would say such things. I held its hand. "Don't worry, I still love you. Even if you don't like fucking people anymore." That calmed the government down, but I could still see the lingering resentment in its eyes.

Story #95

Calamity struck atop the mountain. The fleck of dirt tried to commit suicide and ended up burying the world below in an avalanche. Now it was a mound of earth itself, a new son born from its mountain parent. "Why," it thought. The junior mountain's anger rose to a breaking point and it blew its top. Molten anger flowed out of its head and toughened its skin only more. "Fuck it," it sighed, "I'll just wait for the wind and rain to finish me off like it already would have if I had stayed a fleck of dirt."

Story #96

"Gilbert," Phoenix said, "I think you've had enough for this decade." "Nom nom nom," said Gilbert, gobbling up another family of Mormons. Phoenix was exasperated and looked at Arizona. "You're his father, say something." But Arizona was busy laying illegal immigrant traps throughout their house. Phoenix sighed. She could already see her son growing up into another fat bastard like her child Mesa. The other kids were no better. Tempe was a college drunk, twins Scottsdale and Glendale were always socializing and Peoria, she never listened to anyone anymore. "Maybe it's time for an earthquake," Phoenix said, "Maybe shake things up a bit."

Story #97

The ants were just about the chow down on the housefly they had captured when they noticed them. Hundreds of thousands of bacteria, all over the fly's body. "Are you sick," asked one of the ants. "Yes," replied the fly, "Sick of being bombarded day and night by these germs. They're pests and I don't want to deal with them anymore. Please, kill me." And the fly vomited. The ants lost their appetite and walked back to their nest in silence. The fly let out a slow chuckle and went off in search of some flesh to dissolve and consume.

Story #98

Being the helpful type, her son came out the house and helped his mother unload the groceries from the car. "Yarooh," he said, "You bought that big hundred pack of fish sticks. I love fish sticks!" His mom smiled and patted his head. "Here," she said, motioning to the box of fish sticks, "Hand them over." He did so and she proceeded to open the box and toss fourteen sticks into the gutter. The son was confused. "Why'd ya do that?" Her reply was, "To save us the hassle of wasting them later." Elsewhere, in an alternate dimension, the universe exploded.

Story #99

The infected were outta penicillin, they were scarfing down onions as fast as they could. Sixty percent of Farmer Brown was divorcing his land without notice. He tossed thirty-eight Legos on the ground and said, "Keep the change, bitch." The other forty percent shed a tear, finished the onion it was eating and started building a castle-spaceship hybrid. He ran out of pieces before he could finish it.

Story #100

"ELEPHANTS LAND ON MARS" read the headline. They beat us to it. Fuckers. Now the oversized anteaters are sending back pompous photos of them making tracks in the red sand and shaking hands with the Martians. Pricks. "Something's got to be done about these greybacks," some of the less tolerant elderly called out. I may not be a specist, but on a certain prideful level I have to agree with them. We can't let this stand. I hear the Hippos already have their sights set on Venus. We have to organize soon or we could lose the evolution game completely.

Story #101

El yawned. The universe exploded into being. "Excuse me," the god said. Nobody else seemed to notice.

Story #102

"W... X... Y..." said the young girl. Her teacher nodded along with each letter spoken. Thinking hard about what was suppose to come next, she smiled when it came to her and finished, "Z and ampersand!" The teacher nodded, then shrieked. "What did you say," he asked the girl. The child looked up at him accusingly. "You heard me," she said. The teacher laughed maniacally. "Wouldn't that just be one 'and' then," he asked her. She grinned. "Ah, shit. You got me." And the young girl imploded. The teacher nodded his head and told the class to get out their math books.

Story #103

The writer sat before his laptop. He stared at the blank screen. He had exactly one hundred and three words to write his masterpiece. He had tried and failed one hundred and two times already. This was it. He knew it had to be something meaningful. Something that stood as the exclamation point to his previous attempts. But what would he write about? Was there really anything left to write about? He didn't care to think those thoughts. He had it in him. Somewhere. He sat. He looked up and saw his reflection in the window. "I think I've got it," he exclaimed.