“Chris,” I said, as a family of five wiped their shoes on his face. “What’re you doing here?” “Muhughuh,” he said, spitting out a piece of dogshit.
Give me Rafael Nadal. I would let Rafa bagelize me as compared to you-know-who. Is that too much for a poor, first-time U.S. Open qualifier to ask?
A millennium of mystics lives in my heart. But when you look at me, all you see is “Prince of Darkness” in Comic Sans stretched just under my chin.
“Synonyms for ‘laugh’ include ‘chortle,’ ‘gurgle,’ ‘snicker,’ and ‘titter,’” Commander Garm told the dead alien for no discernible reason.
The basis upon which I have lived my entire life is jeopardized—and all because of a trust fall with the ghost of Sir Isaac Newton.
Eternity. Did you catch that? That’s two months times infinity. Let that rattle around in your thick skull for a moment.
I apologize, she giggles and our shared weakness for Snickerdoodles suggests we will fall madly in love by Christmas. Her name is Lacey Sherbert.
"We have orders from the city to remove that thing from your property. Effective immediately.” He pointed toward the Inflatable Wacky Tube Man.
Utu dropped the carcass and turned back for the cave. Very suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and raised his eyebrows in surprise.
A week ago, my girlfriend left me for a flying fish. You know, the kind with the little wings that glide, the kind you hear about.
“D-Did I leave my Chapstick over here?” Meadowbrook blurted. “Oh!” She said. “If you did, I haven’t seen it. Maybe it floated out of your pod?”
An orange squid has entered my dreams, watching me practice my ascending spin and barrel sculls with languid disinterest. I cannot banish him.