College Spit

    The poor front-row students of Spattering Hedgcock endured his spittle weekly. How they could have been expected to learn anything was absurd. They spent the majority of the class wincing and wiping spit out of their eyes.
    By the end of the year, they were well acquainted with the advanced motion of liquid droplets though the air, which is ultimately fortunate because the received full credit for their fluid dynamics class.

Shopping in Beverly Hills

    "Oh. Ehm. Geeee! Brettany, what. Did you do with your hair?! You look majestekh!" Kimberly squealed as her best friend stepped out of her father's Rolls Royce. The pearly white exterior and rose gold trim looked just like Brittany's new hair style, and the gawking pedestrians surrounding the two seemed to share Kimberly's opinion.

    They heard another squeal coming from down the street, and soon their other best friend, Chelsea came running up to them. "Oh. Ehm. Geeee! Brettany, what. Did you do with your hair?!"

    "I know. I know! I said the same thing!" Kimberly interjected.

    "Oh'm'gosh you didn't!"
    "She did! She totally did!" Brittany added to the conversation. Then the three squealed, and Kimberly finally moved them onto the objective for the day.

    "Who's ready for some shopping!"

    "Oh'm'gosh we are!" Brittany and Chelsea shrieked in unison.

    "Let's go girls!" Kimberly said, snapping with a flourish. Then the three best friends began strutting down Rodeo Drive, arm in arm, looking for the latest fashion trends, leaving spectators nauseous in their wake.

Glad Gladys

    The residents in the park jumped back in fear at seeing Gladys stomping along the path. She was angry, but they couldn't comprehend the sight at first. This was Glad Gladys; no one had ever seen her convey another emotion.

    In her hands she held something oozing, and intrigued, the residents followed her. From a distance. They followed her all the way to town hall, where she entered in a rage amongst their judgemental murmurs. Some time later the mayor was launched face first out the door, with the oozing substance on his face. Immediately following him were three geese, who fluttered down next to the mayor and began nibbling at his face.

    Gladys eventually followed, and she seemed to have regained her normal composure.

    She walked out calmly, and commented as she passed the mayor "Feed your geese from my gooseberry patch, will you? I suppose you'll think twice about a decision like that next time."

    Then she walked home, and the crowd stood there looking much like the geese: unsure of what to do or where they belonged.

Unrequested Help at the End of a Long Day

    "Fine!Go ahead and sent the table!" Allison screamed at the three children trying to help.

    In their excitement to eat, and to help their mom, they relinquished Allison's precious TV time.

The Rothschild Radius

    Nathaniel walked briskly through the door to the lecture hall, decidedly ignoring the "Physics 401" sign hung on the wall. He had little patience today. Of all the days to substitute teach a class, the day of the 3rd Quarter fiscal report was a poor one.

    He took a brief glance at the class notes, and, eager to return to his yacht, began his lecture suddenly. The students scrambled to open their notebooks, but quickly found themselves confused. They had just begun the section on Einstein's field equations, but the man rambling on at the front of the room was speaking about stock dividend yield equations. He went on for some time before anyone spoke up, but eventually a timid, yet high-achieving girl raised her hand.

    "Excuse me, professor" she said.

    Startled, Nathaniel sought source of the voice. "Whoever that was I beg please don't interrupt again. I'd like to depart this room as soon as possible, and dear, I've lost my train of thought." Frustrated, he tried to recover his place.

    "But sir, we left our last lecture discussing the Schwarzschild radius. You're lecturing on basic compound interest" the girl spoke up again.

    Offended, Nathaniel peered around the room again, this time more purposefully. "I do believe I said please don't interrupt again!" He spoke sternly. "Yes, quite right, the Rothschild radius is an important concept, and one you'll do well to understand if you want to see any success in your life."

    Professor Nathaniel continued on the rest of class explaining the phenomenon and how by taking advantage of it, one could propel themselves into acquiring vast amounts of wealth. The students took notes on maintaining a close physical and social distance to the Rothschild family by any means necessary to ensure they remain close enough to their radius of influence as to gain tremendous success with little practical effort.

    The following week, only ten percent of the class returned to the lecture, and Professor Ludwig was in shock. "Was the Schwarzschild radius that challenging of a concept?" He asked.

    The same timid girl raised her hand. "No sir, we learned about the Rothschild radius, and most of the class was enamored by the idea. They went to continue Professor Nathaniel's lessons on his yacht."

    Professor Ludwig stood silently at the front of the nearly vacant lecture hall, grinding the chalk in his hands into a suffocating cloud. A deep, angry, guttural growl emanated from inside.

    Then Professor Ludwig muttered "Not again. Nathaniel Rothschild has once again stolen my class. Those of you remaining, your loyalty will be rewarded! Come with me, we're going to seize what it rightfully ours!"

    With a faithful cheer, the five remaining students ran out of the class behind Professor Ludwig to take on Nathaniel Rothschild and his new crew aboard his yacht.

Cheese Sandwich

His name is Cheese Sandwich and he's coming to play

Take a big bite and he'll brighten your day.

American cheese on some classic white bread

Or rye and sharp cheddar'll knock the hair off your head.

So out of your bed get your lazy caboose,

Wash your cheese sandwich down with some fresh squeezed orange juice.

Now off to school you go without a hint of dismay,

'Cuz Cheese Sandwich came and he saved the day!

Adam's Apple

    It was Show and Tell day at school, and Adam knew just what to bring. He always kept his favorite apple on his night stand, and he decided that's what he wanted to show his classmates. After giving it a good polish and tucking into its little bed atop the nightstand and nestled himself into bed.
    The next morning, he shook the nightstand as he landed on the floor after jumping out of his bed with excitement, causing the apple to nearly do the same. Adam got dressed, then snatched his companion fruit and ran downstairs to eat before school. His parents glanced at each other in confusion of their child's unusual enthusiasm.
    Eventually Adam did arrive at school and Show and Tell began. Adam daydreamed through all of the other kids' presentations, but when his name was called, he leaped right out of his chair and stood proudly at the front of the classroom. With a voice that remained unaware of maturity past the horizon, he said his few sentences about his apple, then returned to his seat gleaming. The rest of the class gave their presentations, and the school day continued as normal.
    Adam's presentation had given the class bullies, Joan and Juan, fresh fodder, and they decided to feast immediately. Joan sauntered up to Adam, while Juan made jeering remarks, generally regarding the pitch of his voice. Adam rolled his eyes, then began to walk away, but Joan grabbed his apple and brought it to her mouth to take a bite.

    "No, don't you dare!" Adam screamed, then threw a rock at her face.

    She dropped the apple, and Adam would have stooped to grab it himself, but Juan was already bounding toward him, so he ran.
    When Joan had sufficiently nursed her head wound, she picked up the apple and joined Juan in the chase. They were unfortunately too slow to catch Adam with the head start he'd gotten, but Adam realized this, and foolishly turned to taunt them. Maddened by this, Joan chucked the apple as hard as she could at the boy, and it nailed him right in the throat.
    Adam fell on is back from the impact, and when he failed to move for some time afterward, Joan and Juan fled before they could be associated. When recess was over, several of Adam's classmates found him, but they were astonished to see he'd changed significantly from before recess. They tried to help him up, but he was quite a bit taller, and generally bigger, and instead of moving him an inch from the blacktop, they simply met the surface themselves as he pulled them down with hulking strength.
    Adam stood up on his own, and he was the size of Mr. Bullthwart, their tight end turned P.E. teacher. None of the kids knew what to say, and Adam responded to their silence with a deep, low "What? Why is everyone looking at me? Oh! Has anyone seen my apple?"
    And the kids continued gaping at their classmate. They had indeed seen his apple. With the stem sticking right out in front, it was lodged in the middle of his throat. One girl, Jenny, fainted, but Adam just picked her up and brought her back to class.
    Mr. Bullthwart saw Adam and pulled him aside before he entered the classroom. "You, boy, what's your name?"
    "Uh, Adam sir. I'm the one you usually forget about in dodgeball." Adam replied.
    "Nonsense, meet me on the field after school, we have practice."
    "Field? Practice for what?"
    But Mr. Bullthwart was already galloping down the hallway, clearly excited about something. Adam shrugged and went back to class, trying to figure out what field his P.E. teacher was talking about, and what he'd be practicing.

Grooming Day

    A satisfying pick, sip, and crunch is what drove Mooaha to continue her grooming. As usual, she groomed Mikiiki, and was groomed by Makaka. The rest of the line continued amongst the branches; she couldn't see everyone, but she could certainly hear them. A thrum of intermingled picks, sips, and crunches sounded throughout the canopy. It wasn't fresh carcass, or ripe fruit, but it was good, and it was peaceful.

Some Respite From the Party

    Belchelda sat at her desk ruffling the drying, tear-stained parchment in angst. Murmurs from the party below beckoned her to return. With a sniff she regained her composure. She stood up from her chair and walked toward the door to return to the party. Just before she reached it, though, she shook the room with another violent belch. This time she ran straight to her bed to soak her pillow in tears.

Assaulted by Snide Robert

    Snide Robert crept along the side of the decrepit office building in a way that sent the snakes shedding out of their skin prematurely. The lurker spotted his victim -- an old lady watching her grandson as they returned from the grocery store -- approaching his spot. When she did, he leaped out in front of her like an overeager lion cub. He stumbled onto his face but recovered quickly enough to deliver the jeer he toiled to conjure.

    "You're a mean Decepticon and I hope Optimus Prime accidentally runs you over!" he yelled, then ran ahead of her toward the next intersection to avoid her response.

    "Robert, get back here or you will get run over!" she replied

    Robert hesitated, then returned to the old lady, covering his ears with his hands.

    "Young man, that was incredibly dangerous. I know you're upset that you didn't get a toy at the store, but you must pay attention!"

    Remaining defiant, Robert continued to hold his hands to his ears, staring at his grandmother in hopes of willing her out of existence. Recognizing he wasn't actually upset about the toy he didn't get, she bent down and met his eyes.

    "Is it hard when Mommy is gone?" She asked.

    Tears welled in Robert's eyes. His lips quivered, and he nodded in response to her question. Then he began sobbing uncontrollably and ran to embrace his grandmother, who equally reciprocated the gesture.

    "I know honey, it's hard when she's gone for so long during the day. It won't be forever, she just got a new job, and I bet soon we'll be able to afford that toy you wanted. How about we set a goal with her when she returns home?"
    Robert released his grip. "What kind of goal?"

    "How about when we have enough money left over after rent is paid, we can celebrate as a family by getting that toy? What was it called?"

    Gaping at the possibility. "The Optimus Prime Power Shifter! Really Grandma, can we?"

    Now laughing, Grandma replied "We'll see, we'll see! It might take some time, but I think your mother will love that idea. If you can try your best to behave until then, I don't see why not!"

    Robert stood there grinning, but then his face grew sorrowful. "I'm sorry for calling you a Decepticon, Grandma. And for running away."
    Understanding his frustration, she replied "I forgive you. Can we be good from now on? Maybe we can watch a movie when we get home?"

    "Yeah! Transformers?"

    Grandma sighed. "You really like that movie, don't you? Alrighty, we can watch Transformers. Again."

    Robert skipped alongside his Grandma back home with new confidence. "Which one is Opticus Prime again?" his Grandma asked.

    "It's OPTIMUS Prime, Grandma. He's the red and blue one who transforms into a truck."

    "Oh right, Optimus." She said, slowly pushing her cart back home along the bumpy sidewalk.

The Deplorable Visit of Harold Habanero

    The desert village of Blandarid saw few visitors, which the residents were perfectly content with. Visitors meant activity, and activity meant change, and the Blandaridians liked things just the way they were. Their abundance of lukewarm water and white bread left them parched for character, which they were also perfectly content with.

    Well, they'd bemoan the day Harold Habanero decided to stop in for a visit. The wanderer had been doing precisely that when he grew thirsty. His wilted water sack had not a drop remaining, and the tongue of his camel, Cappy, drooped as their pink flag of surrender to the elements. He considered heavily the idea of drinking sand before stopping at a town as dull as Blandarid, but he decided against it, and the Blandaridians soon found themselves with a guest they wished had chosen to drink sand instead.

    The clacking of the dried peppers hanging inside his robes, and the sand which the tassels of those robes dragged into the town caused panic in the residents. Ignoring any likely customs, Harold walked Cappy to the tepid waterhole, and they both dunked their faces in, splashing the street as they did. A concerning amount of time later, the man and beast emerged, further desecrating the town with the drippings from their sopping coats.

    Despite the townspeople's revulsion, they proceeded with social propriety and offered their unfortunate guests food.

    "Thanks!" Harold exclaimed, and Cappy gave an obnoxious snort.

    The people shuddered, but bid them welcome, nonetheless. The guests munched on the crackers, then immediately tried to spit them out for lack of taste. The dry crumbs simply stuck inside their mouths though, so they dunked their heads back in the water to wash down what these deplorable people called "food."

    "Cappy, this needs some salt." Harold said, and Cappy skipped at the mention. Harold fished in his robes for his salt shaker, rustling all the dried peppers in the process and generally causing more commotion than could possibly be justified. When he brought the salt shaker out, the Blandaridians retreated in horror. Harold and Cappy tilted their heads in confusion, then shrugged and continued with seasoning their portions.

    Once they were as satisfied as they could hope to be from this people's meager hospitality, the guests were as ready to depart as the host were to have them gone. Harold fished in his robes again, this time staring directly at the villagers as he shook his robes extra-antagonistically. He pulled out two dried habaneros, at which the villagers retreated in further shock.

    He tossed them in the air and he and Cappy each caught one in their mouth. "Ahhh, flavor!" he roared, and Cappy gave another loud snort.

    Harold led Cappy back out of the town, and as a final farewell to the people, he smacked Cappy on her front hump, and she belched habanero-induced fire. Glad to be rid of each other, the guests resumed their wandering, and the Blandaridians quickly tidied up the mess their guests made. Each grain of sand was returned to the desert proper, and the spill on the street was given much clearance so it could evaporate as quickly as possible. They might have to enforce who'd be allowed entrance to their village from now on, but that would mean change, and change would mean activity, and the Blandaridians had had enough activity for quite some time. 

Janice: Vanquisher of Space Vikings

    Janice Torr was mopping the school hallway when the building was stormed by hundreds of space vikings. The alarm for this particular scenario rang, and upon hearing it, Janice ran to her closet to prepare. Moments later she stepped out and began fighting the space vikings with her lasword.

    They were no match for her, and soon they all retreated. Once it was confirmed they were all gone, she returned her weapon, retrieved her cleaning equipment, and resumed her duty. It's times like these that precisely show the importance of regular training and protocols for all scenarios.

Buckets of Love

    "Go home Ripline, we don't need any more electricity!" Fesquou shouted at the electricity canvasser.

    Every day he'd walk down Fesquou's street with buckets of the stuff, and they'd bought a couple in the past. They were good deals back then, and they figured they'd stock up while they could. Now, though, they had plenty in reserve, but Ripline was pushing more aggressively now.

    Fesquou and her family were feeling the economic hardship as much as everyone else, in fact that's precisely why they'd stocked up on electricity when they did. Times were good, and they judged it prudent to build a surplus of their resources. Maybe Ripline had been frivolous thus far, maybe he'd found himself upon hard times, or maybe he was just feeling extra motivated recently, but Fesquou didn't care, that boy needed to leave her and her family alone.

    This time, though, Ripline remained in front of Fesquou's house looking dejected. "Oh come on Ripline, get a move on, we don't need anymore electricity! I'm tired of watching out for your face up and down our street. Go bother another neighborhood!"

    "It's. . . It's not electricity this time," Ripline said.

    "I don't care what it is! We've had enough of you walking these streets." Fesquou replied
    Ripline couldn't bear Fesquou's words anymore. He dropped his buckets and ran off sobbing.

    "Good riddance" Fesquou muttered as the boy ran off.

    She stepped out to clean up the spill, but when she arrived at the buckets, she didn't find any electricity at all. Instead of static arcing across the blades of grass, love had spilled across the lawn and was seeping into the ground. Then the reality of Ripline's frequent visits hit Fesquou. He loves me she thought.

    Fesquou ran after Ripline. He had turned the corner, but he couldn't be far. Fesquou rounded the corner herself, and there he was, waiting for the bus. She ran up and jumped onto him. "Oh Ripline, you'd been carrying love in those buckets all this time!"

    "H. . . Hi Fesquou." Ripline stammered. "Well, I didn't know how else to show you, but you never seemed interested. Then, you said all those things, and I knew there was no hope."

    "I'm such a fool! Will you give me another chance?"

    "You mean it?"
    "Yes, I do. As long as you don't try to sell us anymore electricity, yes, I will."
    "No more electricity, deal. Only love!"

    And the two of them took a stroll hand in hand around the ever-so-familiar neighborhood.

Barkthur's Daily Dive

    Barkthur was an old dog. He was so old that he needed a scootychair to get around, and this worked fine for the most part. The only time it didn't work was when he needed to descend the stairs in the morning. All of his food, water, toys, and activities for the day were down there, and every morning he had to stand at the top of the stairs and brace himself for the impending tumble.
    It was horrible. Every morning, he stood there trembling, but would eventually take the inaugural step, which inevitably led to his tumbling violently down the stairs. He was a tough dog, though, so once he was finished with the day, he'd scoot himself back up the stairs and rest for hours. He had to prepare his body for the next day's tumble.
    He always heard his masters trying to convince him to try the new bed they'd bought for him on the main floor, but it was clearly some kind of synthetic polyester whatsamajibber. Barkthur didn't trust it as far as he could tumble which was obviously pretty far, but that didn't matter to this ol' dog. Eventually his masters relinquished trying to change Barkthur's sleeping arrangements, and it just goes to show that you can lead an old dog to a new bed, but you can't make him sleep.

New Girl Annoyance

    "Oh'm'gosh Kemberlay, Mahrahndah thinks she's so offishal and she's not! I can't even!" Brittany ran up complaining about the new girl, Miranda, to her bestie, Kimberly, who was trying to get the perfect selfie for today in the park.
    "Oh'm'gosh I know Brettnay! Like, who is this girl? She comes into school and tries to be populahr and she's not. She's just not! Stop it! Ahh!" Kimberly shrieked in frustration.
    "If I don't have a coconut smoothie right now, I'm going to lose it!"
    "Agh why isn't it in my hands right now! Let's go. Jeremy is working at the smoothie shop, if he knows us like he should know us, he'll have coconut smoothies for us as soon as we walk in."
    "Ahhhh you're so right, bestie! Let's go!"
    So, Brittany and Kimberly walked arm in arm to the smoothie shop to see Jeremy and drink coconut smoothies.

Breadloaf the Brute

    If you had known Breadloaf when he was a crusty boy, you'd understand why he now ravaged the city with an incessant rain of croutons. He was always made fun of in school, but the worst were the Caesar Sisters. They'd tease and toss him about, ignoring his complaints, and inevitably he'd walk away scratched and deflated.

    Well, when he was older, he decided he'd be the one in charge. He returned to his city double baked, and employed his childhood tormentors as his minions, which they happily agreed to. From then on he was known as Breadloaf the Brute, and he was despised among citizens. Reputation mattered not to him, though. Only power. And with an iron slice he ruled the city for years to come.

Herschel's Deviant Diet

    It was one fine summer day that Herschel Drummond found himself whisked away from his home in rural Pennsylvania on a plumed chariot. It was the last thing he expected that day until he was deposited in the middle of the Sahara Desert. Well his wife did tell him eating turkey dinners outside of Thanksgiving season was risky business, but he honestly thought she was making a comment on his diet, not the possible effects of his aberrant feasting. Maybe he should have expected this? Regardless, whenever he returned, he'd have to heed his wife's words more closely from now on.

Arizona Jack and the Infuriating Teahouse

    The tea house was quite what Arizona Jack expected, and yet what he witnessed was quite unexpected. Everyone in the tea house was slurping in the most obnoxious fashion. Debutantes slurped and burped, and munched on crumbly tea cakes like ravenous pigs. Ignore it, you're here for the ancient diadem the adventurer reminded himself.

    His contact, Mindy, stumbled in the door, then immediately tripped over her frilly gown. Arizona tensed as he thought for sure the meeting was compromised, but the patrons simply applauded, then resumed their noises. Mindy took her seat at the table with Arizona, and waved the waiter down. She ordered them standard drinks, then proceeded to explain the plan to retrieve the diadem, but Arizona only heard muffled noise. I'd rather be fighting a giant spider than deal with this nonsense he thought.

    "Do you understand?" Mindy asked.

    Arizona smiled and nodded but had no idea what she had said. Then the waiter came with their drinks, and Mindy slurped and burped the rest of the time, while Arizona winced. Eventually he couldn't take it anymore, and he abruptly stood up, took out his nun chucks, and started smashing all of the china in the establishment.

    The guests applauded the commotion, and Arizona shouted, "what is wrong with you people!"

    At this, the guests gave a standing ovation, driving the adventurer running out into the streets. He grabbed the tail of a passing truck, hitching a ride to anywhere that wasn't here.

    Mindy watched as he sped away and mouthed "Best of luck, Zona."

No Use Crying over Life's Spilled Lemons

    Citrus Jones chose to pass the time stuck inside one rainy day by juggling lemons. Having successfully mastered juggling three, he figured four wouldn't be too much harder, and he wanted a challenge. So while his mom was kneading bread dough in the kitchen, he grabbed three more lemons from the fruit drawer and gave his best attempt.

    Before he even released the last one from his hands, the first one bonked him on the head. Later on he'd give this as the reason he dropped the rest and slipped on one. In his flailing as he tumbled to the ground, he managed to send three of the still-descending lemons flying into the ceiling fan, which thoroughly sent rind and juice splattering over the entire kitchen. Much of it unbelievably, but not surprisingly, landed in the bread dough.

    Mrs. Jones was furious, she had worked for days starting the culture, mixing, and proofing the dough, and now it was ruined.

    Once Citrus had collected himself from his fumble, with great poise he replied, "Now that's some sour dough."

    And he grabbed three more lemons from the fruit drawer, then walked out the house juggling his comfortable number of lemons.

Mike the Hiking Viking

    Mike the Hiking Viking passed all his forest-dwelling neighbors every morning on his hike, and they always greeted him with chitters and squeaks. One day, Mike did not pass through on his usual hike, and the woodland neighbors were concerned. They decided to go out and search for him.

    He came up the same path every day, so they simply followed that path down the mountain, hoping it would lead directly to him. It was a good plan they had because it did lead right to him! When they reached the bottom of the mountain, they found themselves in a Viking encampment.

    In the middle of the camp, they saw Mike bound to the ground. They found that strange, but maybe that's how Mike slept. Then other people that looked like him started walking back and forth on top of him in a marching fashion. That too was weird. The visitors imagined that it must hurt a lot, but since Mike was the only visitor of his kind, and they didn't actually know much about him, they presumed it to be normal.

    Mike looked up during a break from being marched on top of and saw his forest-dwelling neighbors.

    "Help me, my friends, help me! I'm being punished for hiking while on duty! Free me from these bonds!"

    But all the visitors heard was "Glabba gneudle mish mash poof" which they assumed was his way of saying hello as he waved to them energetically. They waved back to be polite, but they realized they evidently knew very little about Mike. They suddenly realized their foolishness and decided to return to their homes in the forest. What were they thinking coming to search for a familiar face who was in fact a complete stranger?

Aphid Attack

    "Aphid attaaaack! There's an aphid attack on this city, guys!" Melvin entered the classroom screaming at the top of his lungs.
    "Dude, they're aphids. They're here every summer, and they eat some of your crops, it's ok." Dwayne responded. The rest of the class casually agreed with him and began to resume their shenanigans in the classroom.
    "But you don't understand!" Melvin continued. Dwayne rolled his eyes, and he and the rest of the students gave their lackluster attention to the frantic boy again. "These are ravenous aphids; they desire much nourishment!"
    "Ok, Melvin, the farmers will have to spray a little more this year, it's fine. Sit down or leave, I can't believe even I'm telling you that"
    "Oh, I think I'll stay" Melvin replied, his voice becoming deeper, and sounding much more controlled. He stepped slowly toward Dwayne, who was now eyeing him quite suspiciously.

    "And perhaps I forgot to mention, these are carnivorous aphids, each the size of a small boy. A small boy named Melvin!"
    And Melvin pulled the boy mask off of his face, revealing a giant, revolting aphid face. The creature clacked it's mandibles in anticipation of a sumptuous, fresh Dwayne. It gripped Dwayne's face by the ears, and just as it began to devour its prey, it was knocked directly onto it's back by a punch in the face.
    "Every Tuesday. . . Melvin, stop. It wasn't funny the first time, it's not funny now, and it's old. Time to molt this bit bud." Dwayne explained to the nuisance. The rest of the class agreed eagerly with Dwayne, and once again resumed their shenanigans in the classroom.

Phil's Adventure on the Wall

    Phil's head was pounding after the most recent clockwise. At least they predrilled this time he thought. But just when he was beginning to settle himself into his new home, the measuring tape whacked him in the head. Oh no. They measured wrong the first time.
    Sorrow filled Phil as he listened to the pencil scratching on the wall, then the subsequent drilling only a centimeter above his current residence. Then came his dreaded fear. A hard thud on his head, then anticlockwise he went, until he was thoroughly unseated from his spot in the wall.
    Clockwise he went a moment later, his new view indiscernible from the one prior, yet evidently meaningful. Please be it he hoped to himself.

A Witch in Need Haiku

"Help me!" cried the witch.

"Can Rumplestiltskin help you?"

"Absolutely not."

Rodgic Energy

    Rodgic energy was believed among the majority of the scientific community to be a theoretical discussion point at best but was more often simply fodder for mocking its "creator" and namesake, Dr. Rodger Gingersnap.

    The eccentric scientist navigated every conference floor with his small vial of Rodgic energy dangling from his neck, and as far as anyone else knew, that was the only sample that existed; hardly enough to be taken seriously, let alone to experiment with. "Share with us the production documentation, then we'll see what use Rodgic energy has!" The other scientists mocked the substance's creator.

    Idiots Dr. Roger thought behind his wide grin. If any of you had an ounce of scientific intuition, you'd know Rodgic energy can only be created with essence of Rodger. But he remained reserved. They'd all soon be Rodger, and then they could create as much Rodgic energy as they pleased.

McNulty's Failure

    "I can't do it," McNulty sighed. In his hand slumped a deflated bag with several tubes sticking out. He had failed once again at producing a single sound out of his bagpipe, and he felt the way his bag looked from his mother's disappointment.

    "Well. There'll be no haggis for dinner tonight. Even if you could conjure the Lady of the Sheep to bestow her blessing on the table, I'd not give you any. And I shan't until you've earned it!" his mother berated him, then danced her way out to the yard.

    McNulty leered her direction as she shut the door. "I'll never conjure the Lady of the Sheep" he whispered, a menacing grin forming on his face. Then he stood up and plucked the moles out of each one of the instrument's holes, freeing the airflow for music to be made. "The Pork of the Dance, however. . ."

    McNulty blasted a sinister song from his perfectly functioning bagpipe. He stepped outside amid dark clouds and red that now swirled above the land to his tune. McNulty's mother stopped mid-dance at the noise. Slowly, she peered around and her suspicions were confirmed. Her son was playing the bagpipe. Perfectly. And summoning the Pork of the Dance?

    "You deceitful little. . . You disgrace this family! This land! Very well! I shall banish you to the Land of Oinks!"

    And Mother McNulty whipped out her own bagpipe and blared a beautiful tune. The tune of the Lady of the Sheep. The darkness faltered above the land, and rays of bright light began to show through. But McNulty rebuffed his mother and blared louder. The two fought back and forth until two streaks descended from the sky.

    The Lady of the Sheep and the Pork of the Dance crashed into the ground, and after only a moment's acknowledgement of each other's power, began fighting each other. They each drew power from their own song, and while the Pork of the Dance was clearly a more powerful entity, McNulty was not as experienced as his mother. He faltered at times, and the Pork of the Dance grew frustrated at his conjurer's incompetence.

    The fight raged on; molten debris flew out across the land with each clash. The musicians grew tired, but they continued to play. McNulty gave an inspired blow, and the Pork of the Dance lifted the Lady of the Sheep above his head. He launched her high in the sky, then leaped up for an aerial attack. Just as he was about to smash her to the ground, Mother McNulty responded with her own heave, and the Lady of the Sheep suddenly shone with blinding light.

    She took her scepter, filled it with bleating power, and struck the Pork of the Dance down to the ground. He plummeted down right into McNulty, and the impact sent the two of them deep into the ground, to the Land of Oinks.

    Mother McNulty finished her song with a tune of thanksgiving, releasing the Lady of the Sheep from her summoning. The Lady bowed, then dissipated into the sky. Mother McNulty watched the crack in the ground seal, forever containing the traitorous son in the Land of Oinks. Then she danced mournfully back into the house to rest. Grieve? Maybe one day. But for now, only rest.

A Disturbance for Mrs. Catsworth

    Musical notes appeared in thin air out of nowhere as Phineas the Flipopotomous danced down the street. The ground shook after every dreaded flip of his. Mrs. Catsworth would have to do something about this hooligan.

    Phineas heard a hiss from the second story window he was passing, and when he saw Mrs. Catsworth perched there, he did a special flip for his new special spectator. He punctuated it with dazzling jazz hooves, clearly misunderstanding the feeling with which the hiss was meant to be carried, but obviously that didn't affect him. Mrs. Catsworth however began scolding Phineas for his disturbing, destructive, and downright inconsiderate dance routine.

    "Oh, sorry ma'am" Phineas replied. "I can try a different routine --"

    "No! Not another routine. No routine at all please! You're shaking the --"

    "But I'm a Flipopotomous, so flipping is about all I can do. Well, I can dance, but it's generally accentuated with many flips because, well, after all, I'm a Flipopotomous."

    "I don't care if you roll the rest of the way out of town, the shaking is causing --"
    "You really don't like my dancing, accentuated by much flipping?" Phineas moped. He sighed "Okay, I'll leave now. You'll only have to endure my flipping for a little longer."

    Mrs. Catsworth was irate. "You don't understand! No. More. Flipping! At all please! It's --"

    Phineas continued his flipping down the street, now in a much less enthusiastic demeanor. Mrs. Catsworth stood watching him with her mouth agape at the unbelievable disregard the Flipopotomous showed her. 

    Phineas was soon back to his cheerful self, though, when Bella the Bellephant came ringing around the corner. The two of them caused so much commotion, that even though they were leaving the town, they could be heard for quite some time afterwards. Mrs. Catsworth returned to her seat with a deep scowl, furious that her words simply wafted in the wind before they even reached that wretched Flipopotomous' ears. She'd spend the rest of the night thinking about how she could possibly retrieve them, as words like that ought not to go unheard once uttered.

The Creative Conjurer

    For an entire year, story after story, he incubated. Each day, the warmth of creativity fueled his growth, and built momentum in his creative journey. Some days were slow and uninspired, others he missed entirely, but many burst with brilliance.

    The anniversary arrived quite uneventfully. Rather than exploding from his shell, he beheld his ensemble which had waxed stronger and more creative every day and simply stepped forward. A new question hung in the air before him: What do you do now?

    A formality really, for the answer was clear without any consideration: Continue. And so, with a grin, and a tip of his top hat, he took another, overly exaggerated (for dramatic effect) step, accentuated by dazzling sparkles and flourishes that dissipated in the air, and began the next part of his indeterminate journey.

    Behind the Creative Conjurer slunk a nameless janitor (this ain't his story), grumbling about the mess of albumen covering the stage.

    "Who does that?" the janitor exclaimed. "This is disgusting. Sure, the mess, whatever this is, is gross. But the nerve of some people! Just assuming some schmuck will come and clean it up" he muttered, intentionally audible enough for the guy who just walked off the stage to hear.

    The Creative Conjurer halted, and gave a squinted look back at the janitor, who stared right back at him. "Clean up your mess, you slob!"

    Aghast, the Creative Conjurer abruptly turned back and set himself forward. He had a journey to continue. In fact, the janitor was precisely correct; his job was to clean up the mess, and he'd best get to it!

    "Oh, don't you walk away from me! I know you heard me; you bum! I've had enough of this swine slop. I ain't leaving you alone until you tend to your filth!" the janitor yelled.

    The Creative Conjurer quickened his pace; he'd have no part of the mess back there, nor of that man who was not following him. But follow him that man did, and he was resolute. He'll tire eventually the conjurer convinced himself and determinedly continued on his own path.

Non-buyer's Remorse

    "Introducing the latest and greatest kitchen tech of this year, the Power Chop! Your all in one kitchen appliance for all of your chopping needs!" The salesman presented on the TV. It was three o'clock in the morning, Jeffrey was wide awake, and the only thing to watch were informercials. So, Jeffrey sat there in his recliner, enamored with the Power Chop. I need one of those he thought. 
    So, Jeffrey grabbed his Utility Stick and unhooked the phone from the wall. He pulled it toward himself, then with the phone in hand, he used the Stick to dial the number on the screen. The Power Chop hotline answered his call, and he excitedly placed his order.
    Jeffrey was so excited for his Power Chop that he nearly jumped out of his seat but immediately thought better of it; that'd be far too much work. So instead, Jeffrey decided to nestle himself further in his recliner. Not before returning the phone to its place on the wall, though.
    He reached for his Utility Stick next to his leg but didn't feel it. Dread filled him when he looked over and realized it had rolled to the floor when he was placing his Power Chop order. The ringing of the phone next to his hear seemed to amplify a hundred times.
    Either Jeffrey would have to get up and return the phone himself, or endure the now blaring ringing in his ear the rest of the night. Which was worse, the ringing, or the Utility Stick staring at him from just out of his reach, he wasn't sure. Never had he more greatly wished he had ordered that second Utility Stick he considered when buying the first, though.

Sparce Feathers

    Two ducks were swimming in the pool when a hairy owl hopped on by.

    "Can I swim in the pool too?" the owl asked.

    The two ducks looked at each other, then replied reluctantly "Sure."
    The owl plopped in clumsily and introduced himself "I'm Sparce. I'm an owl, but I don't really look like it. My feathers fell out the other day, and I've been walking around trying to figure out how to get by ever since."
    The two ducks stared at him gaping. "Your feathers fell out? How? Feathers don't just fall out, do they?"
    "Evidently they do. That's what happened to mine. So, what are your names?"
    "Oh, right" the first duck said. "I'm Hamner, and this is my brother Twoce. We're ducks, and we still have our feathers."
    "Lucky ducks. I hope I'm not bothering you, but I haven't met another creature that didn't run from me at first sight. Thanks for letting me swim!"
    Hamner and Twoce smiled. Sparce wasn't bad at all. He was quite friendly, and that's much better than could be said about some of the other ducks at school. So, the three of them played for a while before Twoce asked "What if we could find your feathers? Would you be able to fly again?"
    "Well, I suppose so. I'm sure we'd need to figure out how to reattach them, but once we have them all, that shouldn't be hard, right?"
    "I imagine not" Hamner said. "How about tomorrow we all go looking for Sparce's feathers?"
    "Let's do it!" Twoce and Sparce exclaimed at the same time. And the three friends began making their plans for how to find Sparces feathers.

Wyatt's Flight

    Once again during a late summer thunderstorm Wyatt sat motionless as rain pelted him in the face. I'm protecting the family he reminded himself over and over. But even when the rain ended, his desire for freedom lingered. It wasn't that he minded protecting the family, it was that he had no choice but to protect the family. From the rain, the wind, the hot and the cold, he remained the family's sound barrier.

    Sensing that the thunderstorm was now in the distance, the birds came out to stretch their wings. Like that. I want to soar like that! Wyatt thought. And why shouldn't I? I've protected this family long enough. I want to be free!

    And with a new determination, inspired by the birds, Wyatt set to break himself free of his captivity. If I can just catch a breeze, I'll be able to soar like the birds.

    Little by little Wyatt nudged himself, and eventually his bonds began to crack and splinter. Before long they'd broken enough to give him much room to move, and move he did. He shuffled himself out to the the very tip of his perch, waiting for another gust of wind to carry him off to a new land.

    Eventually the gust came. Now's my chance! Wyatt convinced himself, and he released his final imprisoning hold. He toppled forward, feeling the fresh breeze in his face, the freedom from his bonds, and he was filled with pure ecstasy. So, this is what the birds feel he thought as he glided out from his perch.

    But his flight lasted only a moment. Shortly after he freed himself, the gust had passed, and nothing else could keep Wyatt aloft. He plummeted to the ground, and on impact his face shattered, scattering shards all across the front lawn.

Edgar Allen Poe: Vampire Hunter

    Edgar Allen Poe stood at the bottom of the dark tower, his soaking clothes sagging down on his body. He'd endure the rain as long as he could, for a vampire awaited him inside the tower. How am I supposed to kill this thing he thought. I'm a writer, not a hunter.

    But his task would not be done for him; eventually he'd have to follow through with his contract. He stepped up to the door with his stake and hammer in hand. After a sigh of anticipation, he busted the door open and braced himself for attack. But no attack came. Instead, Edgar Alen Poe was left to behold empty furniture lit by dim, flickering candle light. You cruel tormentor. Enough of the hiding and suspense. Come out and meet your doom!

    The only direction to go besides the door was up the stairs. Up Edgar Allen Poe went. On the next floor he found another room, this time with only a long desk along the far wall. This too flickering in dim candlelight. Up the next staircase he went.

    In the next room sat a single open coffin, its red, velvet upholstery inviting Edgar Allen Poe to come have a rest, only for a minute. But no, he had a contract to fulfill. Up he went what he presumed was the last set of stairs.

    The final, top room of the tower had a large window on one side, and in front of the window was a silhouette. A silhouette of his target. It didn't move. Edgar Allen Poe crept towards it. Still, no movement.

    He had a single chance, and desperate to be done with this contract, he dove forward and slammed the stake through the core. Without giving a moment for the vampire to react, he threw the fiend to the ground, and slammed his hammer down on the stake, ensuring it was thoroughly driven through.

    Edgar Allen Poe stood over the body hunched over, regaining his composure from his sudden exertion. Then a snicker sounded from the corner. A lightbulb clicked on, bathing the room in neutral, white light. The snicker became true laughter as the vampire stood similarly hunched over, clutching his gut.

    Between violent bursts of guttural laughs, the vampire said "Come to vanquish me, Edgar. Allen. Poe? You've made this quite enjoyable!" Another laugh.

    "You monster. Cease your toying with me!" The writer ripped the stake from the decoy's core, then flung it right at the real vampire's chest. With a casual wave of his hand the vampire blocked the projectile, knocking it to the ground.

    For the first time, true fear instilled in the writer. He had only his hammer, but that would be useless by itself against a vampire. His enemy's laughter increased as he began slowly stepping toward the intruder. "You didn't think you could actually succeed in this assignment, did you?"

    "I'll leave. Let me live, and I'll leave you alone, forever. I'll forget the contract." Edgar Allen Poe replied.

    "Ha! So much concern for your contract..." the vampire said. Then he paused. He sighed, then turned around and began walking down the stairs, leaving Edgar Allen Poe alone in the top room.

    Edgar Alen Poe waited there for some time, unsure of what to do. He was trapped inside the vampire's dwelling. He'd rather be back out in the rain. More games. The incessant villain.

    Maybe he could descend the stairs quick enough to escape the vampire. That was his only option. Then he remembered the hammer in his hand. He could smash the window and jump out. He'd break his legs, and then what, leave himself for the vampire to consume? No, running down the stairs would have to do. He could still defend himself with the hammer if he needed to.

    Bracing himself for the sprint of his life, Edgar Allen Poe approached as close to the stairs as he dared before running. With a final burst of confidence, he descended the stairs two at a time, preparing to swing at the enemy. When he arrived on the third floor, there was no one in sight. Where is he?

    Then Edgar Allen Poe dashed for the next set of stairs, and just before he began to descend, he heard the now familiar voice. "What on earth are you doing? Come here."

    The vampire sat up in the coffin, leering at his guest. The vampire was behind him; all he had to do was continue running. He'd be out the door, back into the rain, and on his way to safety. To home. But the vampire's statement commanded him, and so Edgar Allen Poe turned and approached his enemy.

    "Give me that contract" the vampire said. Edgar Allen Poe stood there confused before shuffling around in his pockets for the contract. The vampire made no move to attack.

    Eventually Edgar Allen Poe procured the document and handed it to the vampire. After a minute of perusing it, the vampire took out a ball point pen, clicked it, and signed the contract. "Now please be on your way and leave me in peace" he said. 

    Edgar Allen Poe stammered "Y-Yes, of course," and accepted the signed contract back. Then he turned and descended the rest of the floors without another word from the vampire.

    A minute later he found himself soaking once again in the rain, and with his contract complete, he began his walk back home to collect his bounty. The long road back would give him time to fathom the absurdity of what he'd just experienced.