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Time Travel Do's and Don'tsDo's and Don'ts of Time TravelTime Travel Do's and Don'ts by DaneBainbridge
So, you've finally done it. You've scraped together the millions of dollars, dozens of passports, countless vaccinations and hours and hours of anachronistic language classes. The day is at long last here, and you are ready to take that romantic little vacation through time. Yes, time travel is everything you've been told. You will meet exotic people, doing exotic things in exotic eras. You will get to see the "Good Old Days" when they were better known as "These Wretched Times." But, before you hit the app button on your genius phone, there are a few things you should know:
Time Travel Don'ts
Don't shoot your grandfather. It's tempting isn't it? You've read about people who've done it on countless blogs and seen the very realistic, yet highly grainy videos, on YouTube. Shooting your biological grandfather isn't just against the law, both criminal and temporal, it is considered unacceptable behavior in just about all cultures. For now, let's put as
The American Obesity ProblemThe American Obesity Problem by LightningRodOfHate
I have no face. There was a time when I may have owned one, but this is a fuzzy half-memory. In fact, it may be entirely an invention of fantasy. These days, regardless of my history, I know for a fact that I have no face. However, I have been granted a name: The American Obesity Problem. And I am growing in the United States. You may have seen me on television. You may have been witness to my disconcerting back cleavage and mystified by the seamless transition my legs make from my calves into my ankles. You probably saw my unsettlingly large, shelf-like behind as it strained against my tight Capri pants that I swore I would fit into someday and, when I didn't lose the weight, decided to wear anyway because, "If I spend more than $30 on pants I better damn well find a way to squeeze into them." You may have caught a glance of ponytail resting on my back, or a peek at several of my lower chins. But
Bailey's CakeSusan hummed to herself as she set the oven to preheat for Bailey's birthday surprise. OK, so maybe it wasn't going to be much of a surprise with her sitting there watching, but it's the thought that counts, right? She paused in her preparations to lean over and give the black and tan German shepherd a scratch behind its silky soft ears. Bailey panted and thumped her tail against the floor, always eager for more attention.Bailey's Cake by Leonca
Susan thought about her while she greased the cake tin. Ten was a big year for a dog, especially one of Bailey's size. She had been such a good friend for all their years together, it was hard to imagine that someday soon they would be parted prematurely. She couldn't ignore the ever-thickening sprinkling of white hairs that graced the dog's dark muzzle.
No, this is too depressing, she told herself, think of something else. Anything else.
The cake. If she could just focus on that it would drive all those unwanted thoughts away. She looked at the dog bir
A Key PointHello. I'm your left shift key. You know, on your keyboard? I think it's time we had a little chat.A Key Point by bleusman
See, I think I have things better than some others I know. Like my friends P, A, I, and N you know those keys? - well, they've been feeling used. Whenever you open up Microsoft Word, they just start groaning because they feel your poetry coming. Me, though, I guess I'm just feeling ignored. Unappreciated. You know the feeling? I know you do. I saw that poem about your family. Tough stuff, right there. I feel you, I really do.
I know you feel all deep without me. Like the restraints I put upon you shackle your inner poet. I'm not uncool. Believe me, I am down with the youngsters. And I know the time it takes to capitalize could cause your conversation about your English teacher to Tanya to drag. I am the most understanding key on your keyboard, believe me. Not like Insert. Believe me, that guy's a total asshole. But I just think you really haven't considered all the dynamics
Transdimensional Super TeamNotice: The full length version of this tale, which is far more palatable, is available right here.Transdimensional Super Team by LunaticStar
The magical computer pool glowed. We stood around it like gods.
"Place your palms upon the unimetriscope," said the man in the top hat. "Validate your identities to Her Majesty, the Queen of the Multiverse."
It all seemed a bit hoity-toity to me, but there's a lot to be said for peer pressure when some extra-dimensional fancypants tells you your "peers" are a lady with wings, a James Bond looking guy, a giant robot, and a little girl and her psychic-bondmate, a white pony.
The guy in the top hat called himself Jeremy Flavius Beedle, and he twirled his mustache when he spoke.
He'd found me in San Francisco. I wasn't even working. I was sitting outside the ferry building munching down on a pastry from the shop there when he approached me.
Top hat and cane, fancy suit, and a giant
Cops Arrest Death for GraffitiToday, two members of the NYPD have arrested a black-cloaked offender for vandalizing the wall of a Midtown Manhattan skyscraper. Upon dragging them to the police station, they discovered that the person was genderless and used the hood of the cloak to conceal a rather troubling lack of skin, meat, eyes or nose on an otherwise lively skull.Cops Arrest Death for Graffiti by TheOtherSarshi
"We realized," officer Jobson says, "that this was not your ordinary criminal - I mean, most of the people we bring over have some identifying features and while I suppose that having a skull for a head is identifying, it's just... Troubling. What do you write in the 'skin colour' or 'eye colour' boxes, you know?" Upon being asked how he fared with this discovery, he answered after some consideration, "I've never seen a real skull before. It was odd."
His colleague, John Daffodil, says about his near-Death experience, "My old mum got quite a fright when she called me and I said I'd met Death. She thought I'd been shot or something. Anyway, a policem
The Business Wolf stopped gnawing on his third plate of Lapin Bleu d'Auvergne and pointed at Deer with his fork. "The problem," he said, "is that you've got a bum deal going on with your agent. You're paying him far too much if all he was able to get you was public affection. I mean, there's what-- thirteen million white-tailed deer in the United States alone, right?"The Business by fackeltanz
Deer looked down at his glass, which was half-full of some white wine. He was a little unsure whether or not he liked it, as he didn't really know what made wine good or bad or even what type of wine it happened to be. He'd looked at the menu, become flummoxed by the French, and had simply asked the waiter (in English) for something vegetarian with a suitable wine. This was his second glass or maybe his third; he'd already forgotten. He swished it around a little.
"Thirty million, actually," said Deer. "Not thirteen."
The Alarm Clock, The Match, and The Postcard Mrs. Nolan of room number 103 at Van Dyk Retirement Center wakes every morning at precisely eight o' clock. Once she gets out of bed she then proceeds to greet the day with some music at eight ten. She delightedly turns the radio on with her old, knobby hands and is rewarded with the majestic sound of Beethoven's 9th Symphony blaring out of the small radio's speakers for all to hear. Mrs. Nolan shuffles excitedly to the window and flings them open, yelling a joyful "Good Morning!" to the world.
Ripe PlumsRipe plums are falling,
Now is the Summer of Our Discontent Chapter 3Alarm clocks are stupid.
HaikuTime is going by