It wasn't the mold's fault...

SIGNAGE

It was another one of those political bumper stickers. “Slime mold are people too,” it said in tall, square navy letters against a bright yellow background. Shanna had half a mind to hit the vehicle in front of her, just based on the stupid bumper sticker alone. She didn’t care if radiation from nuclear fallout had instigated a world-wide phenomenon of spontaneous slime mold mutation, giving them sentient, psychic abilities. They were still slime molds, damnit. She was “people.” Mold was mold. And it got cleared away with bleach and hot water. No matter how much it screamed or protested.

A wet that went to the core...

The soap bubbles were the best part...

RIDING

Simon had a…thing for front-loading washing machines. It wasn’t sexual; it was just a thing. He liked climbing inside and going for a ride. He liked going around and around and around. He liked the soap bubbles, and the taste of towels. It was a horrible addiction, and his momma told him to stop, but he couldn’t. She told him one day he’d get caught breaking into people’s houses for a ride in their front-loader, but he didn’t care. Elves broke into houses for all sorts of reasons: to make shoes, to clean messes…why NOT to ride a washing machine?

The ways of the forrest...

COPULATION

There were exactly twelve advantages  in being a Woodland Ogre, over a Tree Troll. Nine of them involved the harassment of travelers, and shaking them down for loose change. Two, concerned the fabrication of weapons of war, for which there was a treaty with the Grass Elves regarding fair trade and material usage. The final one regarded certain reproductive issues. Tree Trolls tended to… eat their partners. It wasn’t entirely intentional, but somehow, in the heat of the moment, the female Tree Trolls had a tendency to bite the heads off their mates, laying fertilized eggs in the males’ necks.

A kiss is just a kiss, a pie is just a pie...

Anthony looked down at my plate. “I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s just pie.”

I pointed to him with my fork, the prongs coming to rest an inch or so away from his bulbous nose. “The thing is never just the thing.”

He pushed the fork away from his face. “Is this going to be that philosophical bullshit again? Cos I only got a C in philosophy, so I’m hardly qualified if you’re having a metaphysical crisis or something.”

I took a bite of the pecan and pastry mess on my plate.  “Pie is never just pie.”

Making a point to the hero...

LEFTOVERS

Septiva put her sword away, staring at the figure on the floor. “We could stuff him in the refrigerator.”

Bolin seemed to contemplate it for a moment, looking at the black Kenmore appliance, then to their victim. “Look at him. He won’t fit.”  

Nudging him with the foot of her boot, Septiva reached beneath her cape, pulling out something that looked like a turkey slicer.“We can just scrunch him up some. Or hack off some limbs.”

“Don’t be grotesque.”

“He’s dead. He won’t notice.”

“I just think… shoving people in refrigerators for the hero to find sends the wrong message.”  

The years hadn't been kind...

RERUNS

Gil Brenner was one of those actors from those old TV shows that got replayed on cable late at night. The ones my parents used to watch when I was young. I’d sit with them, not understanding a damned thing going on. I still remembered that, after all these years. So I hated seeing the massive hole in Gil’s torso and the scorch marks on the floor. Mom had always thought he was so handsome; she’d not want to see this. Raising my laser-pistol, I stepped over his body, chasing after the man in the alien getup who’d shot him.

They say fish eat your face...

Flight security...

LUGGAGE

They never told him anything.  Never. They just expected him to know what was going on, without any sort of indication of what they were doing. They just expected him to know that they had invited the Gantorian ambassador on the flight. Nor did he know that the ambassador was the green-skinned fellow with the over-sized bag that wouldn’t fit in the overhead bin, and nor did he realize that the fellow would be a total jerk about checking his bag. So, when he’d called security, and it turned into an inter-planetary incident, he had PLENTY of people to blame.

There was always a world in need of saving...

DRIVE

The pastry was light and fluffy, but had the dry, slightly crisp bite of being just a day or two past its “best-by” date. It didn’t matter; the man was hungry. He’d been driving all night, and had stopped for gas just as the day began peaking over the horizon. The gas station didn’t have much; salty nuts, the usual assortment of chips, and those weird energy drinks that tasted mostly like sugar and ass. He only hoped that the carbohydrates would be enough to power him through another six hours of highway. This planet wouldn’t save itself, after all.