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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
Back To The Real WorldI typed furiously on my modified laptop, trying to vamp up to the required pace of eighty-eight words per minute. I reached it, engaging the WTFux Capacitor, and immediately felt the world changing around me as I moved through fiction.Back To The Real World by TheSkaBoss
I'd started writing in the middle of a peaceful meadow that belonged to a world whose inhabitants were short and fat with hairy feet, and by the time I closed the laptop I was sitting on a bench in a busy high-rise city. Perfect, I thought to myself, knowing full well that it wasn't. But it was the closest approximation I could come to; if anyone could get me out of this mess it would be someone in a futuristic sci-fi world, even if it was likely that I'd just stumbled into a dystopia.
I wandered through the streets at random, hoping to come across a place that dealt with advanced enough technology that they might understand when I tried to explain. I failed at that, but did come across a PC hardware store and popped in just in case.
A Problem Shared"The prognosis isn't good." The doctor frowned at the clipboard in his hands and avoided looking me in the eyes. At least he had the courtesy to look upset by the bad news he had to deliver, unlike the last guy I'd seen. "I'm afraid you've only got three months, at best."A Problem Shared by TheSkaBoss
I nodded, thanked him, and walked out of there. His was the third opinion I'd sought and it probably wouldn't be the last. The tests were Schrodinger's Cats in my mind - in the time between them being taken and me seeing the results, I lived in limbo; both terminally ill and miraculously in remission at the same time.
I left the Doctor's office a terminally ill man again, and the first thing any real man does when he becomes a terminally ill man is to get himself well and truly hammered. I complied with the traditions of my elders and betters, finding myself a new pub to drown my sorrows in, as I'd already flooded all my usual haunts with them.
The pub I'd selected was a cosy little one tucked away from the main stree
The Bouncing Princess"Come on, Daddy! Tell me a stoooory." Little Kaylee bounced on the bed while she said this, clearly not ready to sleep yet.The Bouncing Princess by TheSkaBoss
"Nope, sorry. I only tell bedtime stories to little girls who are already tucked up in bed." Kaylee's dad leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, clearly not in any hurry.
"But I can't sleep without a stooooory!"
"You also can't sleep while bouncing." The corners of his mouth jerked up as he tried to hold back the smile.
"But...but...but!" Kaylee stared all around the room, looking for inspiration for her argument. She spotted her favourite book on the nightstand and grinned. "But I can't stop bouncing until you tell me my favouritest stoooory!"
"Oh, you can't? And why's that?"
"'Cause the mean old nasty witch put a spell on me!" Kaylee giggled and bounced higher.
Her dad groaned. "Oh alright then, what's your favouritest story?"
"The Princess and the Peeeeeeaa!"
"Okay then. Once upon a time there was this princess, and she needed a pee before bedtime
CluelessDear Mrs. Sullivan,Clueless by TheSkaBoss
You're probably wondering why your child wasn't invited to my daughter's birthday party, when I invited everybody else in the class. It's nothing personal but--well, I don't want him around my daughter anymore. He's changed a lot in the last few months, and I'd appreciate it if he would keep his distance from us.
I mean, it was bad enough when he was just dressing differently and listening to that awful music (and playing it right outside our house), even when he started mouthing off to my little girl we could handle it (my daughter is not pulchritudinous, whatever the hell that means!), but she came home yesterday with a bruise on her neck! She wouldn't speak to me properly about it, the poor girl was so embarrassed, so I don't entirely know what happened, but from the few words she's managed I gathered it was your boy's fault.
I'm sure you can understand why this means that she doesn't want to see him anymore.
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
The Spectacular Cheap Thrills Romance ContestWhenever someone thinks of romance in writing, what immediately comes to mind? Do you often think of beautiful damsels in distress? Maybe you might see handsome heroes coming forth to save the day with their dueling swords or pistols? Or perhaps even an unexpected passionate love affair between the last two people you might ever expect! Whatever these stories happen to entail, and whether we all choose to acknowledge it or not some of us are looking for a few fun and frisky cheap thrills. So...The Spectacular Cheap Thrills Romance Contest by LadyLincoln
You Think You Can Thrill Me?
I want to see some really saucy, outrageous romances from you. Writers of all jacks and trades! Here is your chance to outdo some of the greats: Danielle Steele, Mary Balogh, Nora Roberts you name it. Go forth and write me a poem or short story that gives your readers a disgustingly funny or romantically shocking cheap thrill. Be as vividly original as you can to make your deviation
Daily Literature Deviations, May 22nd 2011Daily Lit Deviations for May 17th, 2011Daily Literature Deviations, May 22nd 2011 by DailyLitDeviations
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"quilted skeleton" by RhynWilliams
The content here is beautiful, and I love the fact
that I don't completely understand what is
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Featured by apple-dark
Something Like a :Love: Poem by sillycanadianwriter
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.