bokb
After the guests left the backyard, one of her relatives found a golden ring hidden beneath the burger buns. Wiping off the vomit, she noticed a small, engraving: "Sammy." Who was this dog?
If we could make a bread out of crushed diamonds instead of crushed wheat, we could create a recipe for saints and gurus.
Clawing at the tree branches in the setting sun, I felt that my neice, Summer, was in need of a good spanking. It was, after all, time for dinner.
I stepped onto the garden path as the day was beginning to wake. The dew was still fresh on the tomatoes and peppers when the cantaloupes exploded.
The elevator door closed, and I noticed a nice, reasonable-appearing old woman standing along the back wall, holding a quickly dripping block of butter in her blotched hands.
The gnome approached me with a ragged sack of stones. I reached in and pulled out a square one with a tiny rune scrawled upon it. He excused himself to vomit.
The snow fell
in a flurry of grumbles
following the spent fall
and tumbled the twine
supporting the tent.
I watched the puppy wandering the playground, intently sniffing the ground. He roamed up to me, sat by my feet, and perfectly let loose a warm stream of urine on my shoe.
After staring into star-filled night sky, she discovered a deep and personal aspect about the tiny caterpillar crawling up her toe.