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Isn't it time to finally make that change?
by RC
The great lizards were on the hunt for lunch and the menu
was all-inclusive. There really wasn’t much that Freddy the Tyrannosaurus
wouldn’t eat, anyway. He could gulp down whole animals up to the size of a
small dingo, and it didn’t take much more than a few bites to get something
bigger. Of course the big lizards didn’t normally eat each other—not unless
there was a quarrel over a prey and one of them lost in a big way. “No sense
letting fresh meat go to waste,” Freddy always said.
Today Freddy was more than a little hungry, because he
hadn’t been too lucky lately. Other T-Rex creatures had been beating him out to
the meal. “I guess I am getting to be a senior,” he grumbled. And then there
were so many changes in the other predators. He felt like changing himself, but
it seemed that he was sort of stuck in the mold. A T-Rex is a T-Rex, is a—you
get the idea. The one big thing he wanted to change was the size of his arms.
Such appendages were very handy for grabbing and holding prey. As it was, he
had to sort of grab them with one swoop of his massive jaws, and if he
missed…the lunch more than often got away.
Freddy often sat around looking at his arms, wishing they
would grow. “Let’s face it,” he said to himself at such times, “they’re puny.”
But what was he to do? He just kept dragging his feet about that next little
change. After all, if he wanted bigger arms, all he had to do was think about
it hard enough for long enough—that was what the scientists all said. The first
animal to crawl out of the ocean had simply thought about having legs for a
very, very long time, and then—presto!—there they were. But that was the
trouble: Freddy couldn’t think about anything, except meat, for very long.
On this particular morning Freddy had the misfortune to meet
a new dinosaur—at least, new to him. Freddy was going after a deer, when this
hulk interposed himself between Freddy and the animal. “No you don’t,” he said
to Freddy in a gruff and threatening voice. “He’s mine.” Then the creature stopped and eyed Freddy
speculatively. Freddy had an astonished look on his face, for the simple reason
that he was astonished: here was a dinosaur he hadn’t seen before, and he had
massive arms. His head, to be sure, was much smaller, but those arms, and that
musculature!
“I know you,” the powerful-looking dino said. “You’re
Freddy, the old model. I’m bruce.” Then bruce began to laugh at Freddy.
Finally, he said “Isn’t it time to finally make that change, pal? As you can
see, you’re outclassed.”
“I’ve tried,” Freddy sputtered, “but nothing has happened.”
“Hhmph! You just don’t have enough brain-power, friend.
That’s where you should start, not on the legs. But then, you’ve been listening
to those scientists, haven’t you? The problem is, they haven’t evolved far
enough, either.”
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by CT
Fu Chi, my Sensei, normally taught me in his cherry orchard. He insisted that it helped me to focus, instead of allowing myself to immerse in the sights and scents of the outdoors. I endured many raps on my shoulder before I learned the lesson.
This morning, in spite of all of the sensual treats - including a flirty butterfly - I found my clear focus.
"Aha," said Fu Chi. "Now that you've mastered the outdoor pleasures, you can check these methods very easily indoors.'
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This is a real money-maker for us so don't make waves," he told her.
by RMAF
Their plan was this: She was supposed to sit in the park on the swing and cry her heart out when any adult came along. Then, when they stopped to hopefully console her, she would tell them that she is on vacation in their town and she had her cell phone, purse, shoes and car stolen and she needed money for food and a motel.
She had a sleazy man partner who set her up for this. Her mind was weak. She was used to obeying forceful men. He would hide in the bushes nearby and observe the crime in progress. With force, he told her that morning "This is a real money-maker for us, so don't goof it up."
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by TNT
They decided on quick revenge because the shopping center wouldn't give a refund or replace. What was worse was the cynical and mean manager who insinuated they had stolen the items being returned.
They had the cherry bomb and put a timer on it so that it wouldn't explode until they were well on their way. The manager was in his office. He had refused to talk to them again. he'd be surprised. Well, they would show the son of a gun that he could not cheat customers and laugh at them.
They were in the parking lot when the bomb exploded before they were ready, but no-one was hurt. Only Nadine was found on top of the pile of shopping carts. She said she wasn't hurt. They were relieved.
They climbed into the taxicab for the station, on their way to Saudi Arabia. They called themselves "The Walmart Terrorists."
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With luck, I won’t need to jump.
By CC
Uncle Elbert had one of the most extensive junkyards in West
Texas and was rightfully proud of it. His outrage, when his County filed a
lawsuit against him for toxic waste leakage, was justified in the eyes of the
citizenry. Town folk knew that the County just wanted to drill for oil under
the junkyard and would go to any lengths to seize that property for their
cronies’ betterment. Uncle Elbert even made a protest sign to put out in front
of the junkyard, hoping to rally the town behind him.
The problem was that he really did have a dinosaur in his junkyard, though he didn’t know it. It
probably started off life as a lizard but after a steady diet of toxic
materials had mutated into a twelve foot tall sauropod that hadn’t yet figured
out just how powerful it was, and, since the toxic mixture also had an hallucinatory
effect on it, it stayed high most of the time, laying around and twiddling
its talons while it watched clouds pass.
I knew it was there, though, because I’d seen it as a kid
when it was smaller. I could tell it was going to get pretty big. I was
terrified of what would happen when the County came out to close the place
down.
When I saw the Hazmat vehicle pull up to Uncle Ebert’s gate,
I took off running. I ran as fast as I could, heading towards empty fields with
deep tractor ruts. I wasn’t looking where I was going, so I fell and twisted my
ankle. Then I heard a great roar and human screams. So I got up and ran as fast
as I could with a bum ankle. With luck, I won’t need to jump.
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by MD
Dear Diana,
Now I understand. How I wish you were still alive, so I could consult with you, commiserate with you, cry with you. Just like you, I was born with a title, but I never understood why British Kings were exalted above everyone else, for no logical reason.
My husband George, the heir apparent, is a spoiled, overbearing tyrant, and I dread the day his harpy of a mother dies and he will inherit the throne. What will become of me then? To him, I am a bauble, an ornament, merely another jewel (among the many) in his crown.
Now here I sit in my garden retreat, penning this to you, my dear dead Princess Diana, lost to her subjects those generations ago, and I plan for this to be my suicide note. I have dressed in my finest ball gown and posed myself with the light, the shadows, and the overhanging vines to elicit the most shame from the royals who will discover my body. With the cyanide capsule in my hand, let my epitaph read "May the Monarchy be damned." And, to my exalted husband, Prince George, I say, "Go to hell, you arrogant bastard. Britain will be better off without you."
Love from your ardent admirer,
Princess Maria AKA "the royal dumb blonde" - and I'm proud of that title!
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