Humor
Breaking News!
An utterly shocking, yet not entirely unanticipated, incident occurred in Washington DC early this Christmas morning when Santa Claus, AKA old Saint nick, AKA Kris Kringle, AKA Saint Nicholas, AKA Father Christmas, AKA Santa, was remarkably caught sneaking through the White House. A top-secret surveillance footage of the unusual incident allegedly shows Mr. Claus slipping effortlessly down the first chimney into the president's personal study. Two diligent and ambitious Secret Service agents quickly apprehended a surprised Mr. Claus while he was quietly exiting the den shortly after joyously helping himself to several delicious and colorfully decorated Christmas tree shaped sugar cookies and a glass of warm chocolate almond milk. Since nothing else was visibly taken or disturbed, and indeed many wonderful new items had been happily left behind by Mr. Claus, the attorney general's office is frustrated and concerned in that they are unable to charge the jolly gentleman with theft at this time.
By Sheila Sellinger, Author4 years ago in Fiction
Don't Be Shocked If My Pillow Pet Murders Me. Top Story - November 2021.
“A pillow pet? Mom, I’m frickin a adult, I don’t want a pillow pet!” Eight-year-old me was furious at my mother for buying me a “baby gift” as a birthday present. It took 10 minutes for me to get over it, as I quickly realized Brad was the closest thing I had to a friend. I began to take him everywhere. My mother noticed our unbreakable bond and got me another pillow pet for my next birthday.
By Payton Burdette4 years ago in Fiction
Pigs With Halos: Part 1
CHAPTER ONE Cara Lane lay on her bed. It was 7:30 A.M. and she was supposed to be going to school. Cara hated school with all her heart. She would much rather be going to the beach or hanging out with her friends. Then there was her teacher Miss Butcher who she hated with a vengeance.
By Carol Ann Townend4 years ago in Fiction
The Camels of Misfit Farm
The early morning light was still dim when Maura heard Howard yipping. The high-pitched sounds pulled her away from her wrestling match with a budget spreadsheet, and she did not regret leaving the laptop. Howard usually only barked at box turtles, but this time he sounded frantic. She prayed he had not cornered a skunk again.
By Janet Patterson4 years ago in Fiction
ATBG
Twenty-four and still going out of her way to avoid basic interactions with familiar faces. Ginger drew in a few deep breaths through her thin, parted lips as her stubby legs went into overdrive to propel her in the opposite direction of her duplex. Now, instead of the usual two blocks it would take for her to get home from her weekly study session at Starbucks she’d have to take the long six block walk in the blistering heat, but she would also be less likely to run into anyone she knows which caused her to slouch her board shoulders in relief – making her appear shorter than her five foot six stature already did.
By Lyndia Walker4 years ago in Fiction
Reality Bites, Dear Kristen
She couldn’t put her finger on it. What was it? Could she have known that restlessness and a je ne se quoi draw would lure her down this grunge-dressed rabbit’s hole? Don’t be tempted by the evil bunny who both teeters on the edge and dwells in den, cocooned, wrapped up, in utero. Oh, but maybe she plays anyway. She’s young, it’s fun -- and this is L.A.!
By Samantha Der4 years ago in Fiction
The Potter's Notch Predicament
It was cold during the winter in Potter’s Notch. Damn cold. It was cold enough to freeze some body parts off a brass monkey. Potter’s Notch was one of the coldest places in the nation. Snuggled in a remote area among the Green Mountains of Vermont, it also had the per capita highest rate of hearing loss. The citizens of “Potty” (as they affectionately called their historic village) were not concerned until a group of Audio Anthropologists from Yale University came to town. They spent three weeks interviewing, testing, measuring, harrumphing, and recording data. Seeking a causal relationship between the cold climate and the high rate of Auris Diminicus Syndrome (ADS).
By Ed N. White4 years ago in Fiction
The Figure Under a Blanket
When I heard that the lake was haunted, I didn't expect the ghost to look like a figure with a blanket over its head. We'd gotten the tip back in Kentucky, and loaded up into the van. Of course we had Donna, our resident mechanic and the team's muscle. Then there was Larry, the science nerd who could make a bomb out of anything. Jean Paul and Marie, the trained exorcist and resident skeptic respectively. And of course, where would we be without Giovanni di Bicci de' Medici, aka Bick, the tuxedo cat who learned how to talk after one of Jean Paul's exorcisms went wrong.
By Littlewit Philips4 years ago in Fiction
