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But really, Amazon wishlist is way better:
Little Rabbit Foo-FooIt was late in the evening one Thursday night and Little Rabbit Foo-Foo was hopping drunkenly through the forest, doing what he always did whenever he was this drunk--namely, scooping up any fieldmice he could find and bopping them on the head. The fieldmice protested this treatment of course, but in his drunken state he found their high-pitched pleas amusing and they only served to spur him on further.Little Rabbit Foo-Foo by TheSkaBoss
He was only halfway through the forest when the trees suddenly lit up around him, and all the fieldmice took advantage of the distraction to scamper away from him. As he stared in shock and confusion, a round and winged form appeared and waved its finger at him crossly before identifying itself as Merryweather, the Good Fairy. "Little Rabbit Foo-Foo, I don't like your attitude," she said, "scooping up the fieldmice and bopping them on the head. Now I'm gonna give you two more chances to reform, and then I'm gonna turn you in to a ghoul."
Then she waved her magic wand and he found himsel
Princess Moxie and the UsurperIt was a typical day in the Kingdom of New Underbed. The lamp was shining and the roof was open to an angle that some might call obtuse (although they'd be wrong; it was still just about in the region of acute - in fact it only opened to ninety degrees). The princess herself was lounging back upon a bed of towels and scavenged clothing, keeping a close eye on her many subjects. Squeaky the pig stood guard by the entrance, his voicebox torn out as a warning to the world about traitors and what she would do to them. A noseless lion cub watched his back with one and a half eyes (all it had), while a tiger with half a tail and a chunk missing from its ear watched its back. Sammy Spider, the royal fly-catcher, cowered in one corner. He was understandably rather anxious about moving while under her gaze.Princess Moxie and the Usurper by TheSkaBoss
Princess Moxie liked to think of herself as a kind and just Queen (even though she was only a Princess), whom all her subjects loved and adored. Her subjects always backed her up on t
ZebahIt rained on the night my brother disappeared. You might think that's not worth mentioning, but when you live in a desert rainfall is a huge deal. I'd never seen it rain before that night. Course, I don't have all that many years to my name, but my Granddad swears he's never seen it rain other than that night either, and he must be a thousand years old. What he reckons happened is, right, that my brother's disappearance is what caused the rain. Like he was some sort of sacrifice or something. He said it's what we get for naming him Zebah, but I don't know what he means by that.Zebah by TheSkaBoss
I'll ask my Mom later; she's the one who named him. She's busy taking advantage of the rain right now though; we were in dire need of it and she's storing as much as she can. I never knew we had so many containers lying around! She must have been saving them for quite some time.
Richard IncarceratedRichard 'That Weird Kid' Smith* was having a rough time of it. Stuck in his swank and roomy prison cell with its beautiful and luxurious furnishings, he brooded endlessly about all the brooding he wasn't being allowed to do. Day in and day out his jailer kept up a cheerful countenance, regaling him with happy stories, smiles and laughter that Richard returned soured, if at all.Richard Incarcerated by TheSkaBoss
The cheerful monotony continued unbroken for so long that Richard had completely lost track of the days by the time something new happened; a glowing parchment floating down through the air in front of him - seemingly from the Heavens, but if so he had no idea how it had managed to pass through the ceiling. Inspecting the seal, he found it to be one he didn't recognise - a triangle, with a perpendicular line jutting out in the centre of each side, and a crescent moon in the middle. Curious, he opened the scroll.
"Dear Richard Imperator Mortui: You've got mail. If you wish to read it, you must first register for
Long Bet"Oh, you poor, puny Earthling." I shake my head in pity and reach out to it, but of course my mandible just hits the screen and they carry on with their little dramas, blissfully unaware of my ever-watching presence.Long Bet by TheSkaBoss
I've never understood why they broadcast their ship's logs in this way. It surely can't be good for their security. My current leading theory is that it's a show of arrogance; a long display of their wit and bravery designed to both intimidate their enemies and show that they really would prefer peace, if given the option. Broken up into short 'episodes' in such a way as to make for easy digestion of the information.
I admired it, if I'm being truthful. I had fallen in love with this immature, playful species and their shenanigans. So much so that I had followed their signal here all the way from Phryllaryxxkilai, many light years away. I had brought with me many approximations of things I had seen Earthlings using on the screen - my way of showing them that I had read and
Painting The Town BrownConnor was just walking home, minding his own business, when all of a sudden a great noise enveloped the street he was walking on. It was just one note; deep, resonating, and smelling faintly of sulfur. Connor screwed up his face, covered his nose, then went against all his instincts; he turned into the wind to investigate. Why is it always the good guys who get shit on?, he asked himself. He wasn't expecting an answer, as he'd never replied to his own questions before, so was understandably quite surprised when he got one.Painting The Town Brown by TheSkaBoss
"BECAUSE YOU MAKE IT SO DAMNABLY ENTERTAINING FOR US TO WATCH."
The words boomed out from within the monotonous noise, adding an extra layer to it that nearly knocked Connor off his feet from the added wind and smell. He continued on bravely though in the face of both seismic and psychic forces, once more the butt of a cosmic joke. His mind raced with thoughts - none of which were savoury enough for me to repeat, but all of which he was sure the mysterious bo
Planned Obsolescence"If it tastes good, it's probably bad for you." Claire admonished me, resenting the fact that I was eating a cookie in front of her and loving it, when I knew she was on a diet.Planned Obsolescence by TheSkaBoss
"So?" I asked around a mouthful of delicious freshly baked chocolate chip.
"So cookies are bad for you! You'll get fat." She eyed me up and down. "Fatter, in fact."
I swallowed, and paused in my eating long enough to talk to her properly. "You ever wonder just why it is that everything bad for us tastes so good?"
"No." Claire answered without a moment's hesitation. "It's a simple test of willpower. Darwin's law: the strongest survive."
"That's 'survival of the fittest', not strongest. Surely it would fit more for us to hate the taste of things that are bad for us."
Claire absorbed this for a moment, found no flaws in it, and groped for another answer. I could see the wheels turning in her mind as her mouth lay open, waiting for the words to fill it. She found none.
My Last HikeIt's a beautiful day for hiking; by which I mean that it's a bit cloudy and a bit misty out. Anybody who tells you to go hiking in sunny weather is either immune to sweat or an idiot. I can't stand the heat, and anyway there's something so refreshing about the feel of moisture in the air, and something so inherently beautiful in the refractions and reflections of the dewdrops on the leaves. I pass a spiderweb, and the glittering beauty of it causes me to stop and snap a photo; that one's definitely a keeper.My Last Hike by TheSkaBoss
This is a new trail I'm hiking on today; I only recently moved out here and am trying to familiarise myself with the local terrain - the awesome photos are just an added bonus. This particular trail is an eight-hour trek, all up and down rocky hillsides and through forested areas. I've been walking all day and am probably about two-thirds done. In all that time I've not seen a single other human being, and am taking a lot of pride in my good taste in moving here; I'm not a big fan
MagpieMaggie had only been at her new school for a couple of months when her birthday rolled around again. She groaned as soon as the calendar turned over to November, dreading it already. She'd always hated birthdays. In fact, Maggie hated any day that involved her receiving presents. It's not that she wasn't grateful for the ones she got, or that she wanted more than that. It was just that she was really getting sick of having to pretend to like them, when people invariably got her useless crap that she would never want in a million years. It took a lot of effort and willpower to keep that up for a whole day, and always left her feeling drained by the end of it.Magpie by TheSkaBoss
At least, she thought, her new friends here wouldn't know when her birthday was. If nobody brought it to their attention she might be able to get away with just having to deal with her family. Not that her family weren't bad enough, but you know. No need to make it any worse.
On the day in question, Maggie set her alarm clock for h
Fail Guard DogSo, I wake up the other day, stumble along to the bathroom half-asleep and eyes half-open. Dog follows me, as always, as my moving has woken her up. Stumble down the hall, 'round the corner, down the couple of steps, past the stairs and the cat and...wait, cat? What? We don't have a cat. Open my eyes properly, turn around. There's a big fat ginger cat sitting on the top step of my stairs. Dog stopped a few paces back and is crouching down, sniffing the air and generally looking very confused about the whole thing. Cat glances at it for a second then stares rather non-chalantly at me. I figure (read:hope) I'm dreaming or seeing things, so I go to the loo, stumble all the way back to bed with my eyes still half-closed and get back in. Try to settle down and go back to sleep.Fail Guard Dog by TheSkaBoss
That's when the dog decides to wake me up by leaping on top of me and barking in my face, in an attempt to warn me about the monstrous invader in her home. Obviously, this isn't just a dream, and she won't let
No Ordinary ApplesErik stumbled blindly through the forest, almost overcome by his exhaustion. It was imperative that he reach the castle before dawn, to warn them of the impending attack, but if he didn't stop and rest soon he would surely collapse before he got there. His feet dragged with every step, his legs numb and heavy, resisting his orders to move forward. His joints ached, but he barely noticed over the stabbing pains of his poor, abused muscles. His chest heaved with every breath, struggling to get enough air into his body through a throat that was so dry and parched that every breath felt like sandpaper. His stomach was empty, a gaping black hole that threatened to consume his mind if he didn't consume something else first.No Ordinary Apples by TheSkaBoss
That's when he saw them; the apples. Big, juicy, red, and ripe, they hung suspended from the trees in front of him. Just when he needed them most. He almost cried with relief, but couldn't summon the moisture for the tears. He settled instead for plucking as many as his h
Bedtime StoryThe Monster Under the BedBedtime Story by toasterb0t
Clara pulled the over-sized night shirt over her head and straightened it around her waist. She could hear her father yell up the stairs to brush her teeth. In her bare feet she padded out of her room and down the hall to the bathroom. She stood on her tip-toes to reach the tooth paste and brush. Clara quickly scrubbed at her teeth, more to say she did than to genuinely clean them. After turning off the tap and throwing her toothbrush up on to the counter, she ran back to her room, and jumped on to the bed, sitting cross-legged. The bag at the base of the bed holding all her excitement.
The door cracked open and her mother's face poked through. Clara, have you brushed your teeth? Clara nodded, grinning hugely. Her mother entered fully into the room. Walking forward, she bent to pick up the small bag. That day Clara and her mother had gone shopping and gotten three new books for Clara for bedtime stories.
We don't have time for a story t
Pearly WhitesOnce upon a time there was a mouth. In this mouth there were two teeth.Pearly Whites by toasterb0t
These teeth were madly in love, but there was one problem.
They lived on opposite sides of the mouth.
They were both third from the back on the bottom. Anita lived in the left, Clarance on the right.
They met through their mutual friend (and really everyone's mutual friend) Earl, who was sometimes (insensitively) referred to as "the tongue".
Anita and Clarance talked to each other through Earl. He carried their messages from one to another.
Clarance would say "Earl! Earl! Come here a moment! I need to tell Anita something!"
"What is it?" Earl would ask. "It is this:
If i could rearrange the mouth, I'd put us right next to each other. The two teeth right in front. We could intertwine our roots and gaze in to the wonders of the outside world as though it were made just for us."
"Wow, that's beautiful. I'll tell her straight away!" Earl would say.
GreyscaleInsanity is never black and white.
You don't just reach a breaking point and crack,
As if your 'sane' switch flipped from white to black
And madness took you over overnight.
It's more a subtle shifting in your sights
And thoughts that run a little off the track.
At first you plow on through, pick up the slack,
At first you know that something isn't right.
Subconsciously you bury it inside,
Put on a happy mask to face the world.
You act like nothing's wrong, you act alright -
Now 'wrong' is your 'alright'; you never lied.
You find your truth distorted, bent and curled;
To you your greyscaled madness shines pure white.
I Am The GhostI am the ghost that walks these halls,
The noises you hear behind the walls,
The swirls and eddies that chill the air,
The squeaks and creaks upon the stairs.
I am the presence that makes your skin crawl.
I come in the night when the darkness falls.
Black is my colour, and black are my calls,
Black are the shadows I always wear.
I am the ghost.
I am the thoughts you don't want to recall,
The ones you recoil from, shocked and appalled.
I am all of your secret fears and despairs,
Every anxious thought, every burden you bear.
I am the you that scrawls all over these walls -
I am the ghost.
|YES YOU! RIGHT THERE!|
If you're about to leave a comment I KNOW you can see this box! Stop right there and think about what you're doing! If you're about to thank me for something - DON'T.
Don't thank me for a llama, just return the favour.
Don't thank me for a fav or a watch. You're not obligated to return the favour either. But if you really WANT to thank me, I'd much prefer you take the time to read just one thing of mine. You don't have to fave it, you don't have to comment on it, just read it. That's all I ask.
FROM THIS POINT ONWARDS I WILL BE HIDING ALL THANK YOU COMMENTS.