#101 Damsels
Hank was a hero, sure. But he knew that for every tied-up damsel he rescued from a train-track, there were ten that weren’t so lucky.
Hank was a hero, sure. But he knew that for every tied-up damsel he rescued from a train-track, there were ten that weren’t so lucky.
His expertise in safe-cracking and document forgery, and her ability to make the perfect pina colada proved a profitable, and lethal, combo.
The meadow was beautiful. He threw down his backpack and sank into the summer grass. He kept sinking. A terrible scream was cut short.
The plague had killed off all plant life. Luckily, by then, mankind had learned how to produce food using exactly zero natural ingredients.
“I’ll take a Coke,” said Jack. “Pepsi ok?” It was how the waiter said it, more statement than question, that triggered the killing spree.
He loved chucking ice cubes at skunks from his balcony. When hit they’d make this terrible screech. It was ok cause they were skunks.
He was tired of making excuses. If he ever wanted to achieve his dream of becoming a gelatinous, amorphous blob, the time was now damn it!
For many, a fatal diagnosis leads to a crippling depression. Not for Steve. He immediately started crafting a list of people to haunt.
He set up his office inside an active volcano. It was that risk-taking spirit that got him to the top of the Internet consultancy game.
She looked at him. Then she looked at something else. Back at him. Then something else. Then she ordered hash browns and looked at those.