October 11, 2010
Time was born on the playing fields of the Fife and Drum Academy in Brisbane, Australia. After an uneventful youth, Time moved to Utica, New York in order to become a transportation villain for the FBI. Several unfortunate incidents later, Time may now be found flipping burgers at Red’s Diner in Plano, Texas.
October 10, 2010
The brain is a most wonderful organ, superior even to the mighty Wurlitzer.
October 9, 2010
On his wise shoulders through the checkerwork of leaves the sun flung spangles, dancing coins. This is my favorite sentence in all of literature. How can I make such a statement? When I reached it for the first time, I erupted from my chair and filled the air with obscene epithets of praise. Never had […]
October 8, 2010
“Wherever my pants go, I will follow. Pants are the key, I tell you.”
October 7, 2010
The scandal at Zarcraft Inn took place on a blustery winter’s day The scandal at Zarcraft Inn concerned a monk, a duck, and a sleigh The scandal at Zarcraft Inn was not for the young or the faint of heart The scandal at Zarcraft Inn, my friends, was Napoleon Bonaparte
October 6, 2010
Here we have an orrunery and an orrunery shadow, a pair of the many involved in the agonies of Dodden, the stoic heroine of my new story, Dodden in Jom. I’m 12,000 words in.
October 5, 2010
There once was a thing of some sort or other That did something that rhymed with the sort of thing it was Then something else happened And the last word of whatever it was got rhymed in this next line And finally the original something was rhymed again, usually with a humorous twist
October 4, 2010
My dentist wears mermaid flukes on his head. “I raise tourniquet spiders,” said the man happily from his deathbed. Foreseeing trouble, I absented myself quickly when the snowcone of hepatitis reared its ugly head. When last I melted treacle, spring was in the air. Jingles licked himself.
October 2, 2010
Early one June morning in 1872 I murdered my father – an act which made a deep impression on me at the time. Ladies and gentlemen, that right there is one nifty sentence. It opens a short story called ‘The Perfect Conflagration’.