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It was nice to meet the Dalai Lama, who seemed to be a tremendously peaceful person and who smiled quite a lot. Still, Antoine couldn't help but be a little disappointed: he had thought he was going to meet with a South American camelid animal in the style of a twentieth-century Spanish surrealist-- a Dalí llama. He had imagined it melting or wearing an enormous human ear for a hat, things which the Tibetan now before him was not ever likely to do.
It wasn't until days later that they realized they had left the dog at the park. The parents told the children stories about how the creature was happier now, in the wild, chasing birds and being happy and free. The dog, however, was in the process of transforming into an embittered, canine monster.
I wish I had a well-behaved elephant, just so I could take it around with me and hitch it up outside. People would wonder, what kind of guy came here on an elephant? Just me.
Also, I'd try to take it into a bar, just so everyone would think they were in a joke.
It shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did every morning, when he looked in the mirror and saw his entire body covered in leeches. It was just one price to pay for living in a swamp and being a legendary swamp monster.
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| "That's all you see when you look at me?" |
The evil Dr. Vandertramp heaved a heavy sigh. He could continue to throw money at the Lunar Base Death Ray Complex as long as he needed to; there was always more money. The problem was all the bleeding heart lobbyists in Washington who were about to get him embroiled in an unnecessary war with the United States government, if he wasn't a little subtler about the whole thing.
I suppose that one could say that I am doing battle with mediocrity, in the same way that one could say that a man asleep on the tracks is going to do battle with the train.
No matter how fervently he said it, or how much he wrangled the muscles of his face into a pitiful imitation of a smile, the new father was disappointed that his child did not appear to be a mutant. He supposed that some powers would reveal themselves over time, but the best ones, he reflected bitterly, would be apparent even now. He braced himself for a lifetime of being a boring parent to a boring child.
"Ewww, you have a time bomb inside of your torso?! If that thing goes off, it's going to be super gross."
Bertrand was running out of time, and this emergency room worker appeared to be a dangerous moron. He stood up and decided to see if there was even a real nurse in this place, or preferably a doctor.
Of course it wasn't, strictly speaking, a great thing to be going back to prison, not the best thing he could be doing right now, Jack wasn't too broken up about it. He had friends in there, and the food was better than at home. It probably wouldn't be too long before his adolescent son ended up there, too, and he thought that maybe they could share a cell.
It wouldn't be easy, but Belinda was pretty sure she could time the whole thing just right. The corrupt commissioner would be baffled to find a large squid draped across his desk the next morning, but the message wasn't for him.
The creature sitting at the table behind George was wearing a human form, but George was not fooled. The whatever-it-was managed to sniffle in perfect time, but with a slightly different timbre and pitch to each sniffle, as though it were a slow, mucous-filled symphony he were composing. At the same time, he was clacking madly at a keyboard, giving a maddening soundtrack to George's desperate attempts to study. This was not just some guy, some dude; this was a machine. He could not be stopped, only avoided or fled.
The settler walked slowly along the river, having done the exact same thing for weeks and months. Every spot of land he saw here looked promising enough, but he was tormented by the thought of settling down, building a cabin, and making a life on a spot of land that would later prove to be inferior. In short, the settler was having a hard time settling.
When the test proctor spoke, it was the crackling voice of doom itself, the spitting grease fire combustion of Hell rattling around in his late middle-aged throat. As he introduced the mundane steps of the examination to come, each routine matter of permitted pencil lead and time allotted per section became a deeply sinister harbinger of horrible failure.
She looked as though she had, for some undetermined but prolonged period, been exposed to an intensely offensive odor, and now her face was pinched into a permanent outraged snarl of distaste.
Actually, just a dream I had.I went to the French grammar lab that I teach, but the room had transformed itself into a huge lecture hall. It was full of people, which surprised me, but seemed reasonable because the students have/had a test coming up. When I asked if they were all there for French, though, half of them said no, they were there for Econ or something. I had to threaten some of them to get them to leave. (People are always trying to steal that room in real life, but they usually feel embarrassed and leave when they realize it's taken). The kids who were there for French wouldn't quiet down, and one girl went to the board while I was trying to calm them down, and started to conjugate verbs in a language that wasn't quite Portuguese and was only a little bit like Romanian. By then we were five minutes late and, as usually happens in these sorts of dreams, I felt somewhere near enough frustration and stress for the dream to end, so it did.
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| "And take me to dinner," she adds. |
Two guys walk into a bar.
It's a hollow steel rod, and they walk in, feeling relieved that it's short enough for the light to be shining through from the other end. No spiders. They kick a few ants scuttling past them, the size of small dogs. Maybe here, they begin to think, we can be safe for a minute and gather our wits.
"We have to get back to the lab, I guess." The one leaned against the wall, feeling even smaller than his current centimeter-or-so of height. "We'll explain what happened, and--"
"We don't know for sure if he even has an un-shrink ray," the taller one pointed out. "Or if he would use it for us."
The Sasquatch sat on an armchair-shaped rock in the cave, by a roaring fire. When Dr. James Verlane, crackpot cryptozoologist, entered, it seemed that the creature was waiting for him, legs crossed and looking slightly bored.
"Well, you've found me. Now what do you want?"
At this point, James realized that he had never once imagined the creature could talk, and so had never prepared a list of questions. He gave a baffled grunt and scratched his balding head. The Sasquatch began to appear slightly annoyed.
I drew this. I turned on the computer, put the drawing on the scanner, and fifteen minutes later found myself cooking eggs. I'm not really sure how I got there. But as it happens, I was really hungry.
The sky was a sour blue, looking on the verge of turning rotten. The air was heavy and restless. Lots of other stuff was going on, too, but Dwayne was losing patience with these ominous settings where nothing ever seemed to happen.
This is hardly a time for sentimentality, old friend. There will be time enough for that if we outrun these wolves.
