Mankind made first contact on a Wednesday, and the Hallsians arrived that Friday. The Oatsii liberated what remained by Monday.
Billiam Fakemann, erotic piano tutor and collector of unemployment, passed away sometime next week when the Earth literally vanished beneath him during his morning constitution. Coincidentally, this was also the moment the Earth was vaporized by a stray bit of dramatic writing.
“You’re rather calm for a dead man,” a voice said. Buck turned to Bonnie Lauper, a Yu’toovian pirate with jubblies like bazongas and legs like a table. In fact, they were from a table. “Ain’t scared of being dead,” Buck replied. “Dead’s easy. But, dying? Terrible way to go.”
“Where do we go when we die?” Carolyn asked. Dr. Fine considered this for a moment. “Wherever dreams go when we wake up, I suppose.” “And where is that?” “I’m not sure. I’ve never gone to look.” “Why not?” “To be perfectly honest,” he said, “I’m not in a hurry to find out.”
Vincent Raginghardon, better known to his friends as, “Bill,” wasn’t very well-liked at all, thus nobody really cared nor noticed when or even how he died. Meanwhile, Billy’s half-brother, Teddy Nippleblaster, continues to be missed to this day. Teddy was coincidentally eating at his half-brothers second-favorite burger joint on what also happened to be the […]
H.L. Anthanews raised his hands high above his head, and Buck shot him anyway. “You shot me!” Mr. Anthanews shrieked, struggling to keep his insides on the inside. “You shouldn’t’ve ran!” Buck replied. “I was surrendering!” “I saw.” “You killed me!” “Yeah. I see that too.”
Annie, Tonight, I looked for you on the shore where dreams flow into the void. An abyssal whale beached itself there, turning to scattered thoughts in the frightening light of collapsing time fragments. I wish I could have witnessed it all in your eyes. Perhaps tomorrow. Howard
“I wanted him alive!” “Don’t be so dramatic,” January replied. “So, I slapped the guy around a bit. He’s still breathin’, ain’t he?” “He’s brain dead!” “Semantics.” “What am I supposed to do with a brain dead brain surgeon?” “Just pay me before I make you a matching set.”
Coyote sat with tonight’s victim, and the woman sobbed. “Are you going to kill me?” “Yeah,” Coyote replied from behind her mask. “But would it help if I told you it’ll be painless?” “Could you maybe not kill me?” Coyote rose to her feet and stretched. “Painful it is, then.”
The Hayek struggled to take off, and a fleet of Ario Speedwagons rushed their position. “What’s the hold up?” Buck shouted. Styx glanced at the display. “We’re overloaded by a hundred units! We gotta dump some Duranian steel!” “Wait!” Buck ordered. “How much you weigh, Styx?”
“Welcome to Hell, everyone. Elevators on your left, stairs to your right.” “Which is faster?” “Why? In a hurry?”
Brennifer took a drag of her cigarette, and a large eye floated by. She wasn’t sure whether to scream or offer it a smoke, so she smiled and waved. The eye, upset at not being offered a cigarette, blinked something rather rude at Brennifer before continuing on its way.
Father Midnight seized the drunk man by the face, and roared, “Mira!” Flesh ignited beneath his hand. The man shrieked. “Stop!” the boy pleaded. The masked padre dropped the man, but the damage was done–a crimson mask charred into the man’s face! “He won’t hurt you anymore.”
Buck Thunder came to in the tepid musk of an Iggian po’pium den, and nightmares found him. Cries of Lynrydian widows and mothers rang in his ears. Ash from burning pits of Skynyrdese soldiers caught in his throat. His sick-of-this-shit-itis flared up. “More bowie!” he barked.
Cassie stood in the shadow of the Great Oa’kian, its leaves singing a haunting tune with the wind. “I need your heart to save my friend’s life,” she said. “I’m afraid I can’t help–“ Cassie stopped listening and started chopping. “Didn’t ask.”
Dr. Fine crushed the chronopiller in his hand, and sighed. “Forgive me.” “Howard?” a voice called out. “Carolyn,” he muttered, turning to find Carolyn, her charming eyes, and all of Hilldale restored. “Are you alright? Did it work?” He held her tight and laughed. “It worked.”
The man stepped out the back entrance of a Moronikan deli, and January Embers pulled the trigger. “What the hell was that?” her sister’s voice asked. January looked through her scope at what remained of the man’s head, and smiled. “Just some work stuff. Still want that Reuben?”
“It’s a time machine!” the man said, pushing a button on his wrist and blipping away. And as the singularity left in the man’s wake consumed her and everything else, atom-by-atom, the woman had little choice but to finally take her sister’s advice and go with the flow.
In the still darkness of a room at a Garfunkian astrolodge somewhere in the Andohts System, Buck Thunder, naked with a q-knife in his back, aimed his digipistol on a naked Schrodingerian. “Did you ever really love me?” he asked. “Or was it all a ruse to kill me?” “Yes.”
Five hundred yards from the mouth of the tunnel, a second tremor struck. They only had time for a final panicked gasp before the world rained down. The air was driven from their lungs, everything became heavy and cold, and the light never looked closer.