jeffvonward
Well, it wasn't a sandwich, not really; more like a manwich, I think... each side congealed with so much artery clogging, heart stopping goodness, all it took was one bite.
In the whirl of an unexpected updraft, the triangular paper kite soared, whipping upward in concentric circles, tail flapping like an excited kitten, growing smaller as it caught a warm current of air and slipped ever upward, the reel of string diminishing.
It is your destiny, Luke... join the dark side and together, we will make up 2/3rds of Destiny's Child, a hit R&B band that will be playing a series of summertime concerts in and around Tatooine.
Out in the tin shed, locked with a rusted deadbolt; inside a lack of light, the smell of fertilizer escapes and Round-Up and Corry's Slug and Snail Death, a veritable toxic superfund site just waiting to be discovered, piled high with sun-bleached lawn furniture.
Adam Smith wrote the book. A free market economy is more beneficial to society. Joseph Smith founded the American religion. Those golden plates have got to be worth something. Can you imagine them on Antique Roadshow? The Smiths should have gotten wealthy from their royalty checks but Sire probably fucked them over and heaven knows they're miserable now.
The sheet on the music stand was curled at the corners and yellow, covered in places with coffee stains and it looked like it hadn't been played in a long time, if ever. The signature wasn't standard, unexpected changes in key she had rarely ever seen before. She tried a line read, hummed the melody and tapped her pointed shoe.
Name Withheld. The comment, on his blog, was clearly from his mother, though she didn't say it, didn't need to. She had withheld so many things from him in the past: her affection and her breast milk.
From across the room, she entered, batting her lashes like a minx, closing the distance between them with a few sashays of her latex covered hips. Below his mask he could see her knee-high boots, her bustier. She nibbled on his ear. "You've been a very naughty boy," she said. And then she cracked her whip. "That will be seventy lashes."
At a depth of only fifty yards down, you'll start to lose your hearing; the cool, hollow rush of water will be silent all the sudden, as if you are alone. And then as you continue to descend to lower depths, you'll feel your head growing lighter even as everything around you goes dark like sateen curtains being drawn. You are alone and the life--there is life all around you--but you can't even sense it anymore. Even before you reach the bottom, the pressure will be so enormous that you'll wish you could scratch your eyes but you can't, you're too tired, too oxygen deprived; you'll sleep now, instead, sleep with the fishes.
On the walkway, a the crossroads, a retinue of high-rollers roll by on in-line roller-skaters, dressed in three piece suits, ties at their backs, flipping like white flags in the breeze, their brief cases slowly leaking currency.
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