I’m that guy who gets run over by the car forced off the road as the good guy or villain flees during the exponentially epic chase scene in every action movie.
By majoki4 months ago in Fiction
What was I thinking? Tiasmet could not put the thought — the picture — out of her head. The chipmunk with its shark-blank eyes and its panicked keening as the tictocs methodically circled and closed on it. The chipmunk should have been able to easily dash away. It was ten times the size of a tic or toc, and much more powerful. Yet, the chipmunk froze in place as the tictoc bots linked up, creating an inescapable net.
“Cat got your tongue, Shrödinger?” “Don’t be an ass, Buridan.” “Looks like you’re having a devil of a time yourself, Maxwell.”
Remember what eSmoke the Boson Bear says: Only you can prevent the Heat Death of the Universe! It’s true! You are the answer to conserving energy and staving off the dissolution of all matter in the cosmos. Help your local galaxy by following three simple steps:
The news was all positive, six months later, as Scott Paxworthy sat across from Mr. Shade behind his enormous desk, seemingly ever larger and more intricate since their initial meeting.
sensorship Around the collar and down his spine a welcome iciness spread as he jogged in the midday heat. His shirt, alerted him with a tri-chime that he should rehydrate and automatically pinged his fitchip which opened a GPS widget in his visor dashboard next to his environmentals: ambient temperature, wind speed, particulate composition and UV penetration. He noted the closest public park and sprinted directly there.
“Based on the most current cosmological evidence, the known universe is less than 5% ordinary matter, all the crap we can see and touch.”
Red Rover, Red Rover, send MADIE right over. Red Rover, Red Rover, send MADIE right over. Red Rover, Red Rover, send MADIE right over.
A banquet at the regency was not to be missed, especially for an enshrinement. Fervent loyals regaled their regent with cheers at the sight of the opened tins and unsealed pouches on the repurposed tablatures.
“My Fair Bag Lady?” “My Fair Bag Lady.” “That was the pitch?” “Yup.” “What’d you say to them? “I said, ‘What the fuck?’ — and they were like, ‘So, you’ve heard of our network?’
Saundra Lane was surfing through her prospective client’s social media channels wishing she could be working on her own material when her mother appeared on the screen.
“Is it not majestic?” “I dunno, Ray. It looks like the unholy spawn of Godzilla and the Pink Power Ranger.” “And is that not consummate majesty?”
