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by BG
Morris the mule was finally fed up with his owners inconsideration. He amicably hauled all sorts of cargo around in his wagon and made a fair bit of change for the guy. He usually treated Morris quite well. Morris always had enough to eat and drink and was always given enough rest time. He was given pretty good veterinary care too. But little incidents like this one were becoming more and more frequent. The wagon driver that his owners paired him up with would not be tolerated by Morris any more. He would find someone to get him down when night time came. The sun would come up again tomorrow and Morris would be gone. He was going to find a better wagon somewhere else.
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by CC
The day could have been better, Emilio thought. Marty was in a lousy mood and the sun had disappeared behind heavy clouds. He pulled his jacket close and looked at Marty in her kerchief and light sweater. They were an odd couple for sure. He was 30 and a devoted bodybuilder, and she - well, he had met her in Wal-Mart when he was shopping for Metamucil. There was something strange about her, belying her frumpy looks. He knew there was more to her than met the eye, and it made him jittery sometimes. Then it happened. She snatched a loaf of bread from a passerby's grocery bag and tore into it with her powerful teeth. She was snarling like a tiger. He heard someone come up to him. "Run," she cried, "It's right behind you!" Aw, heck, he thought. It's just Marty. He watched as she devoured the loaf, then grew a second head that looked just like his own. Wow, he thought, as he began to run.
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"Let's not give up too soon," he told her. "Some things just take time."
by PV
You know, Eloise. Yes Bertram, I do. We have been patiently waiting all morning and he hasn't returned. I thought it was the usual temporary fugue - a hole in the imagination - to be filled later after a break and a snack. But the color outside worries me, I haven't seen the maid, what with my back to it all and you can't tell me anything about what's going on beyond the window. Sometimes I wish I weren't so substantial and instead were a flimsy, able to be blown around by any breeze, but - "Let's not give up too soon," he told her. "Some things just take time." - well that's Bertram with his novel solidity and me with my flighty sonnets. I just hope our creator is not in trouble.
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by AD
Julia Everheart's music teacher, Mr. Hoss, was late for her vocal lessons. It was unlike him to be late for anything so she sat beneath a tree and decided to wait it out. People tease her about having Mr. Hoss as a teacher since at most times they see him as strange. It is true he has done some wierd things over the years like shave all but the bottom of the back of his head and draw eyes on the middle of the back of his head, or wearing a bathing suit and cap on cold days and lots of other strange things. But she didn't see him as weird, more as unique. She heard a car honking and turned to the sound to see Mr. Hoss on an old bike with a rather large front wheel and a little wheel in the back. She now thinks he is the most bizarre person she has ever met for what sane person would ride a bike when there were cars.
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