coffee (generally, spray-dried Nescafe), water and sugar.[1]short *(story)

A poem
They say
a math major. Surfaces, boundaries
don’t really bind eat

“I just don’t have a poetic way to say it.” Marcus looked down at the ground; the paved bricks were almost imperceptible. There were tufts of green strings lining each. A dead leaf shuffled by. His date stared at him with an unmoving gaze of need. Fuck, her eyes didn’t even blink. She moved in closer. He thought of two grey wolves sensing breakfast soufflés, a shoulder to cry on, sex. His brain shuddered at the thought, and he wished he’d never given her his business card, made this date, bought a cell phone.

“To say what?” she asked. A fly landed on her forearm and she didn’t even flinch.

Marcus broke free of their eye war and thought for a second. “Oh, I guess, just the horror of it, the dream I had… I want to make it into a poem and…” he stared at her and wondered if she’d even read the blog like she’d said, “…and I can’t seem to do it.”

He wondered what would come next. When he had returned to the patio with his coffee, he’d sat down attempting a joke at a frape and she’d blurted out that her mom had cancer.

“And a little Parkinson’s too… some dementia.” She looked like she was about to cry yet holding it back, then Marcus had the uncanny sensation that she’d done this exact same routine before.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” And he was.

“Yeah, I help take care of her… it can be stressful at times.”

“That is good, that you help.”

Marcus thought of gas masks. He’d been thinking of the ones they wore in those old wars and what it means when a human gases another human, like, what makes one capable of that. He wanted to ask her but decided not to be weird today. He could do that.

She got up to heat her coffee, taking her beige clutch with her, he noticed. She had on a summer light pantsuit, silky and well-suited for her body. He watched her walk to the counter, the light blue pastel fabric swished at the mid-point of her thighs. The night before he had come to the conclusion that it was dehumanization, the gassing, but what did that mean, really? He thought of slaves… bodies…that poem “Winged and Acid Dark.” A leaf blower snapped on angrily. Next to the wrought iron gate, a crunchy bunch of them.

He watched Shelly watching the microwave ticker. He couldn’t shake it. What kind of person would spit in another person’s mouth? And if that happened to him, or more horribly grotesque, his little baby girl, how would she mentally reconcile that after it was over? He thinks he finally understands Beloved, that movie he watched long ago with Kat, when the woman slits her baby’s throat before the slave owner can take them.

“What kind of workouts do you like to do at the gym?” Shelly asked him. She smiled.

“Uh, I don’t think about it too much really.” How much longer would he have to sit here sipping frappe before he could leave? They watched a man walk out onto the patio, he wore a red shirt and the back of it read “Keep Back 200 Ft.” He sat down and snapped open his daily, no coffee. In the distance, Marcus heard a lawnmower rev up and begin its layers.

“Funny how a lawnmower sounds when you hear it recede, come closer, recede, hit a twig,” he said. A crow high-stepped by, sleek and oily. To the left, the beeps in succession of a truck backing up. There were shifting people going the usual places, rays of sun, suicide-inducing ambient jazz fizzing softly from the small outdoor speakers.

“So what’s your story,” he tried again, must be less judgmental, he thought, “and not in an interview way but like, say whatever you want to say.” He took his lips off his frappe straw too soon and a few splatters fell on his shirt. Damn. Men shouldn’t really drink from straws.

“Like what?” Her thick black eyebrows scrunched together, hoping to meet.
“I don’t know anything.” A long shot. Was he always such a snob? And was he being one, really? Marcus looked up into the sky and noticed out of the corner of his eye: the camera. Right there, nestled discreetly against and under the corner of the patio canopy, the black orb in white-stucco casing stared back at him disinterestedly.

“I don’t know, that a hard question,” Shelly finally answered, and he couldn’t blame her. What a jerk.

“Hey did you notice that camera there?” he pointed. She shrugged one shoulder, “No, but now I do lol.”

“Did you just say lol?” he laughed and looked at her wide-eyed. “No.” She frowned.

He stopped laughing and looked around him. People were chattering loudly, an increasing din of glamourous sorrow.

“You know in Paris they talk real quietly in cafes, well…usually, kind of like a church.” He fiddled with the straw, “They think we’re loud…” he attempted to lean over to whisper in her ear but she jerked her body back, startled.

“Oh!” she laughed, and he did too. Good god, it wasn’t all a bust.

“Hey, do you think that camera finds us boring?” he asked and looked surreptitiously at the black orb.

She looked at it, bored. “It’s probably just some guy in an office somewhere staring at us, so he doesn’t care, it’s his job.”

“What if he did? What if he was a writer or something and used all of us as characters?”

“He can’t hear us though…” She sipped her coffee and glanced at the exit sign, “it doesn’t matter.”

“What if he can? And even if he can’t, he can see us waving our arms around and stuff, like this.” He stood up and rotated his arms in little concentric circles, similar to a jazzercise instructor showing a move.  Shelly laughed.

The jazz sound clicked off.  “Please sit down sir,” the patio manger intoned from the speaker. The music clicked back on.

“God he’s such a hard ass,” Shelly muttered. She blushed as he stopped moving his arms. He stood there with one arm still erect, wiggling his fingers. A man in a business suit leaned over from the next table and whispered in their direction “Oh don’t worry, he’s always like that.”

Marcus picked up his frappe and sat back down. He slid out his straw and placed it on the tabletop, nudging and tapping it over until it fell on the ground. He waited to see what would happen.

“faster, harder” …. a 4 min read

I stand in the filthy hallway, watching dust fly through the fading sunlight as I look for a place to sit down.  The woman’s Brit clipped voice fades as I walk further from the stage.  There’s a bucket to my left and I wait for the small rat to jump down before I brush off the dust with his hat and sit down.

The actor flies from backstage and into the hallway.  “Where’s the hat?! I need the hat!” he yells, just like every night for the past eleven years.  I sigh and hand him the hat.  He slams it over his white wig and runs back through the door.  My stomach grumbles.

A flashing blue and green screen pops up on the opposite wall.  “Smile, Gary! It’s your lucky day!” it bellows.

I shift on the bucket, turning to face the other direction, and the screen glimmers off.  I think of the stored cans of refried beans under my mattress and my new roommate, Vanessa.  She seems like the type.

A new monitor blasts on the door of the broom closet.

Gary, setting goals is the first step in turning the invisible into the visible.  It is in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped.” it says, showing me hills and a green countryside.  A girl.  A ham.

I get hungry. The rat scurries over and sits on the tipped over broom handle, pausing for a moment to stare at me.  I look in its small black beady eyes and wonder what it thinks of me.  Can it think of me?

“Hello rat.”

It only chippers and goes still again, staring.  I think I see disdain in its eyes, or boredom.  The sound system squawks and I hear the woman from the stage again.  Her voice drifts back down into the hallway, rising.  “And it is at the dawn of our new age, when man has risen to the occasion of his sacred duty, mounting the steed of destiny, the apotheosis of his heritage…”

The rat stares at me.  I try making little squeaks but it only shuffles away.  I put my head in my hands and try to weep softly.

The floor beneath me lights and turns into a blue ocean.  There’s a little gold fish I recognize.  The smell of shellfish fills the air and a woman’s voice this time, “You see Gary, in life, lots of people know what to do, but few people actually buy like they know!” She emanates through the floor and rises. “You must take action. Our mission is to combine luxury with—“       

I’m alternately squeezing my eyes shut and blinking them open, moving from her then into the blue ocean.  “Can you see me?” I ask the fish.

The gold fish falters.  A wispy paradise fish swoops in, colored blue and swimming fast.  It hurriedly turns one eye to me, then back to the ocean.

The woman pauses, and then continues on haltingly.  “…with strong brands and innovative products, Gary, we are producing, inspiring

“Hey fish, can you see me?” I watch the two fish closely.  The blue one ignores me. I stand up and put the bucket over my head.

I hear a loud shrill.  “ethnic essentials …many comfortable blouses…”


I pick up the mop and start to bang on the bucket.


Ferti-Lome F-Stop Lawn Fungicide Granules that give you the capacity to change any

I bang faster, harder.


“…search the entire inventory, Gary, and meet any opportunity with preparation and…”


My ears start to ring and I smell a burning in my nostrils, something like smoke.


“…to imagine rolling along briskly on flat terrain, Gary, the 29″ wheels provide you the means to roll over obstacles better than smaller diameter wheels.  And they roll super smooth on smooth terrain!  And when it comes to…”


There’s a whisper, and then her voice clips out abruptly.


I take the bucket off my head.  The woman is gone.  So is the rat.   I look around for the source of the smoke but can’t find it.  I sit on the bucket.


After a while I see the blue fish float by and it glares at me through the floor.  “Now why’d you have to go and do that?” it asks.


I shrug my shoulders and watch as it flickers away.


I see you’ve take your settings and gone
and I don’t even know
(where’s the note_
how to
how to change the setting on the cof
fee setting
place make it
private make it stay make
it not go away and why didn’t you tell me
if was
over i would of not made all those
jjokes or even
made a letter

Post Apoc

“Getting cold?” Phil looks down at my thin sweater and leans against the doorway.  I can tell he’s trying to see what’s left in my wheelbarrow.

I fold my arms.  “You know I have the granola rations in here, that’s all.”

“Where’s Sally?” he asks.  He runs his hands through his brown hair and I can tell he just washed it.  Not following the ration.  I can also see his empty holster and bulging pocket.

I ignore him and pull out the list.  “Just check here that I gave you your granola.  Mr. Fluser said not to be out at dusk because of the mosquitos and stuff.”

“C’mon Bethany,” he walks out on the stoop and closes the door behind him, “we used to be like friends.”

I’m disappointed he didn’t ask me to come in, I mean, I would’ve said no, but at least it wouldn’t be so weird.  And out here where everyone could see us from the windows.

“Do you have any bug spray?” I ask him and pretend to spray an imaginary can.

His eyes light up for a second and he opens the door.  “Yeah, come inside.”

When we get in the vestibule he kicks off his shoes. “You can leave yours on if you wanna, but it’s pretty clean in here.”

I take off my hiking boots and stare down at my greying socks.

“How’d you get it so clean in here?” I ask.

“What else am I supposed to do?” He walks down the hallway and we end up in the kitchen.  I sit at the table and he starts going through a junk drawer.  I notice the kid paintings tacked on the walls and how quiet it is on the inside.

“Do you want to come get a task from Mr. Fluser?  He said we’d all feel better if we sign up and then see what happens…” I say and try to think of a good joke.

He stops rifling through the drawer and stares at me.  “You really believe that?”

“I dunno,” I reach for a book on the table, “maybe.”

“Hey, don’t touch that,” he says and walks over, holding out his hand.

“Is this your diary?”

“No, it’s like a notebook, for notes and stuff.”

“Oh. Okay.” I start to open the journal and he snatches it from my hands.

“Nice try.”

“What do you take notes on?”

He squints and looks deep into my eyes. “Just what happens around here and stuff, not much.” He plops the book back on the table. “Now, you.  What about you? You got a boyfriend?”

“When would I have time to have a boyfriend?”

“We have all the time in the world.”

I blush, looking down at the sparkling linoleum and then jump when I feel his thumb and forefinger on my chin.  His eyes are so serious, not mean like before.  What was happening?

“You wanna hold my gun?” he asks and touches a strand of my hair, pulling it gently until he reaches the end and releases the tip.

“Umm… I… let me think about it.”

“What’s there to think about?”


I feel the back of my neck flush when he gets up and then think about the wheelbarrow outside and it was getting dark and the neighbors.

“It’s getting dark.”

“You can stay here.”


All of a sudden there’s banging on the front door. I jumped in my seat but Phil ignores it.

“Do you hear that?”

“It’s probably just Sammy,” he says and reaches above a cabinet.  I look at his stomach muscles when his shirt pulls out from his waistband and then I stand up from the table.

“They’re still knocking.  It could be an emergency.” I start walking toward the hallway and Phil reaches for my waist.  He grabs me and kisses me all of a sudden on the neck. His lips are soft like the rain and I stop in my tracks.

“Stay right here,” he says.

I snap out of it and push his hand away.  “I’m coming too.”

The door is shaking with the pounds now and I know it can’t be good.  I stand to the left of it and pull out my pocketknife.  Suddenly I can see Phil’s gun in his hand, I didn’t even notice it there before.   He kneels on the carpet and peeks through the vestibule window.

“Who’s there?” he calls and handles his gun.

“It’s Mr. Fluser!”

I see the door handle rattle and hold my breath.

“I, uh, there’s been an emergency. Open up!”

I reach for the handle and Phil stops my hand.

“Who died?” he calls out as he walks away from the window.

“Uh, nobody died.  It’s just an emergency.”

I can hear my own heartbeat in my sweater.  Phil grabs my hand.  He puts it on his heart and looks at me. He mouths the words “Hide now” and points toward the stairs.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I whisper back.

He just shakes his head and points toward the stairs.


By the time I get under the bed I hear the front door swing open and bang against the wall.

Don’t move.” I hear Fluser say and then there’s a thud.

Everything goes quiet.


A diary


My diary


Travel diary

“What were you dreaming about?” I asked.

The little girl shrugged and turned to look out the window.  The bus rumbled.

“I dunno,” she shrugged, “dead things.  I was dreaming ‘bout dead stuff,” she said and continued to look out the window.

I didn’t let the age or gender gap stop me, or the side of her head. “Like what?” I asked.

“Mostly bugs,” she sighed.

I watched her trace some sort of shape on the fogged window.

“What kind?” I asked.

She sighed again and turned toward me.  “I dunno.  They all had big Styrofoam wings, and a pump thing.”

“Like a hose?”

“I don’t know what a hose is,” she said.

I sighed.  I watched her reach in her backpack and pull out a pencil box.  She took out mascara and a tiny compact mirror.

“How old are you? Like, ten?” I asked.

“I’m thirteen,” she replied.

I’d expected her to roll her eyes but she didn’t.  We’d been on the greyhound for about two days now, and her mom was passed out in the back from Amarillo.  Texas was a nightmare.

“Where are you going anyway?” she asked.

“I’m going to Canada.” I replied.


“I dunno.” I shifted in my seat and pulled out a sandwich from the last station.  It smelled awful.  At least I had something.

“You want half of this?”


I pulled apart half of it and handed it to her.  She ate and looked out the window.

“Where are you and your mom going?” I asked.

“Back to grandmas,” she said.

“What does your mom do?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she replied.  She swallowed the last bit of sandwich and we watched the flat brown land roll by.

She turned back to look at me. “What do you do? Where are you from?” she asked.  Her light hazel eyes twinkled for the first time.  A small smirk came on her lips.

I laughed. “Nothing.”

She started messing around in her bag again.

“I take that back, I do stuff,” I said and thought about what a 13 year-old would want to hear or understand.  “Sometimes I’m a telemarketer, sometimes I’m a cook.”

The guy behind us snored loudly and someone opened a big bag of Doritos, you could smell it.

“Like calling people and stuff?” she asked.

Suddenly her mom gripped the back of my chair and hovered over my seat.  She still smelled like Amarillo.

“Let me sit here,” she said.

I got my bag and moved toward the empty seats in the back.  Half the people on the bus were asleep and the other half were plotting their whereabouts.  I sat three seats over from a cowboy. It looked like he was writing poetry.

“What’re you writing?” I asked him after a while.

“A song for this girl I met in San Antonio,” he said.

“Was she nice?” I asked.

“She’s all I think about,” he said and adjusted his hat.

I thought about the crazy hay loft in Texas and the dark lonely streets.  The bee feeling you get in your knees when you’ve been sitting behind a blue checkered seat for five hours and your brain’s about to explode.  I thought about Morgan and making friends on the road.  I wondered what would happen in Oregon, and the terrifying yawn of not knowing where to land, who to see, what to do.



wondered if any of us knew each other

“What are we all doing here?” I asked the person sitting next to me.

“Shhh. They’re gonna explain it,” he said and pointed to the man walking through the door.

The man was huge.  He had to bend over, almost crawl through the doorway and when he finally got inside the station he had to sit down to fit.  His hair brushed the ceiling.

“I know you’re all wondering why you’re here,” he said calmly and peered around the room.

Everyone murmured their consent and I marveled at the size of his head.  It was like a bus.

“And I know you’re wondering why I’m so big, and I’ll get to that later,” he said.

The man beside me nudged my arm and pointed at his crotch.

“Oh great,” I thought and smirked, “this guy.”

My neighbor raised his hand.  The big man called on him.  “Yes?”

My neighbor stifled a laugh.  “Are there any women like you?”

The big man stared at him for a second and didn’t respond. He turned his bus head toward the rest of the crowd.

“I know some of you are wondering if you are dead, and I’m here to tell you, you are not.” The big man said.

I heard a woman a few rows over break down and weep loudly.  A man put his hand on her shoulder and I wondered if any of us knew each other.  Then man with his hand on her shoulder looked at her awkwardly.  I looked around the crowd and didn’t see anyone I recognized.

“Hey! Where are we?” I yelled out suddenly.

The big bus turned toward me.  He wore the same look he gave my neighbor.  He stared at me for a while before answering.

“I’m getting there.  We find it best to lead into things so as not to alarm you,” he said.

“No, that’s not going to work for me,” I said.

“Yeah,” my neighbor quipped, “Tell us where we are!”

The big man finally frowned.  “We all remain calm at all times,” he said.

“Who’s we?” I asked.


There was a long pause.

“Who’s we?” I asked again.

“Okay, you.” He pointed toward me with his massive finger.  “You,” he pointed toward my neighbor. ”Outside.”


I thought about arguing with him but then I thought about his huge finger pointing at us and squashed bugs.

“Whatevs.” I said.

“Yeah, screw you man,” my neighbor added and we shuffled our way to the exit door of the train station.

“Is this even a train station?” my neighbor asked as we walked to the door.

“Not sure. Hey what’s your name anyway?” I asked.

“Me? I’m Delafonte,” he said.  “You?”

“I forgot my name,” I said.

He looked at me and shook his head.  “Ah man, that sucks.”

I walked out the door with my new friend and listened to the big man resume his lecture behind us.

“We’re all here now.  Good job.  Now I’m going to pass around these name placards and I would like you to write your name and blood type and the last things you can remember eating in the past two weeks,” he said.

I looked over my shoulder and caught him lick his lips.


~To Be Continued!

tobacco, says Sam. (a 7 minute short story)



“What dissolute habits…” I muttered into my knapsack.

“You can’t even spell dissolute, first off, second–”

“Ha.  First off.”

“You’re a moron,” Vuru slammed the gas pedal and swerved past a crawling

“More like creeping.”


“Listen, I’m having a hard time,” I said. “Don’t you get it?”

“Yeah, I guess so.  But look, we’re in the desert.  What could beat that?”

I raised my eyebrows and looked out the passenger window.  There was so much sludge and debris.

“Can’t we stop for a little wash?”

“No,” Vuru stared straight ahead. “No way.”

“Okaaaay.  Don’t know what that’s about but look.” I pointed to the road.

Out the window we saw a bedraggled looking guy.

“Let’s get murdered today.”


When he fell (and literally fell) into the backseat of our van, the conversation took off.

“What’s up?”

“Where’re you going?”




Vuru fiddled with the dome light (falling apart) and the lighter.

“Hey you guys got a cig?” Murderer called from the backseat.

“I’m Pen.  Short for Penelope.  But nobody calls me that.  I’m just telling you because I’ll probably never see you again.” I said and put down my knapsack.

When I turned around to look at the guy again he shifted his gaze.  He had a funny hat.  Blue, like a cheap rayon, almost see thru blue, kinda like a top hat but not really.  Weird.  And his clothes were dingy, yes, but something was off about them.

“Who’s she?” he asked.

“Oh my feisty blondish photo negative?  That’s Vuru.” I pulled my hair into a ponytail and turned to wink at her but she missed it.  “She’s not nice like I am.”


“Talkative, are you?” Vuru asked.

“Where’s the brassy knob that turns the spike for the wolf.  The wolf call?” he asked.

Vuru eyed me and fiddled in the middle compartment.  “Just like I thought…” she muttered.

“What’s your name?” I asked.


“Well hey Sam, how’d’ya do?”

When I reached back to shake his hand he flinched like a hangdog.


“You hungry?” Vuru asked and I noted the exit sign, the usual, McDonald’s, Wendy’s, this time a Red Lobster.  In the middle of the desert? I thought.  That was unbelievable.

“We’re not technically in the desert you know,” Vuru said.


“I like those cheddar biscuits.  Everybody likes those cheddar biscuits.  They just won’t admit it.”


I turned around and stared at his hat some more and looked around for his bag. “You mean “yeah” you’re hungry or “yeah” you like the cheddar biscuits too?” I asked.


“Where’s your bag?”

“This is so weird.” Vuru mumbled and jerked the window handle.  “So fucking weird.”

I stared at her.  “Weirder than last time?”


“What the biscuits?!” Vuru jerked into the next lane. “You want the biscuits or  not?”

“Hey, Vuru, calm down man, he’s just getting his stuff together.  Hot out here.”  I said and tried to guess the look in his eye.  “Too much wind?”

I pointed to the rolled down windows but he didn’t answer.  Just stared down at the floorboard and then out the window.  Then he sat on his hands.


Vuru slammed on the gas again and I watched the speedometer ram up to 70.  Kinda high for the van.

“Uh, hey, Vuru.  You alright?”



“I want a fucking biscuit,” she edged up to 80. “I wanted one of those fucking biscuits.”

She stared straight ahead.

“We could always turn around.  Get off here.”


“What’s a fucking biscuit anyway?” Sam chimed in from the backseat.

Oh god.  Wrong time to form a coherent thought.

“Who’s driving?” Vuru slowed down the van.

“Me,” he said.

Vuru peered through the rearview at Sam.  “You’re interesting now.”

He stared back at her reflected eyes.

“Why are you here?” she asked, “and don’t give me any of that wolf shit.”

Sam picked up his duffle off the floor.  There it is!

“I’m here to save you,” he said.

Vuru laughed until the van crept down to 60 and tears slid down her face.

“Hand me that water bottle,” she said.

“We already used most our rations.” I said and pulled out the card.  “We can get more in two days though,” I hitched up my shorts, “Not very long.”

I handed her what was left and glanced back at Sam.  I felt kinda bad for him, but not really, just a little.

He had taken off his cheap hat and was stirring it with a stick.  Where’d he get that stick from? It was kinda short anyway but pretty thick.

“Magician?” I watched him stir whatever he was stirring slowly.  “Nice.”

All I saw was the top of his head but finally he looked up at me dead on.  His eyes were the darkest blue I had ever seen, a bad ocean.

“You mean omen.”

“Who said that?”

“In the hat.”

“We don’t like that.”

“Nobody does.”

Vuru slammed on the brake and veered us off to the side.

“Okay.  Get out,” she said.

“Yeah…” I chimed in hesitantly. “You’re not fun anymore.”

“Nobody is,” he said.

“Get out.”


“Okay, let’s go.”

Vuru slammed the gas and we almost took out a lone Mac.

“Hey Vu take it easy.”

“Hey Pen shut it up.”

“What’s gonna happen now?” I turned back to Sam and looked at the top of his head again since he was staring into that hat.  His hair was shiny blonde, kinda like Vuru’s but a little more whitish, almost grey.

He stared into the hat and stirred it.  I glanced over at Vuru to make sure she was okay but she didn’t even look angry, smiling even.  Not a good sign.

“Hey Vu maybe we can get some Wendy’s up the road…”

Sam leaned over from the middle seat and tapped the stick against the window.

“Everywhere’s a desert,” he said and pointed out the window. “Everywhere’s a desert,” I said and looked out the window.

“Yeah, we know, Murd,” Vuru said.  75.

“No, everywhere’s a desert,” he said.

“Uh, put the stick down Sam.” I said.


“It’s for stirring,” he said and leaned back.  “Where’s the knob for the spike?  You know it.”

I looked out the window.  “Everywhere’s a desert.”


Suddenly Vuru slowed down.

“Rest Stop!” she yelled.

I touched her arm and looked at the lighter.

“Listen Vu, we said no more smoking, right?”

“Right,” she said.

Everywhere.” I heard from the backseat.

“Everywhere,” I mumbled.


We pulled into the long parking lot.

“What, you gotta pee?” I asked.

She stared straight ahead. “Nope.”

“Then what?”

“I’ll be back.”


“You’ll be fine.”


Vuru slammed the driver door and walked quickly to the bathroom.

Sam closed his eyes.






Similarly, Roger.


Roger needs to lie on his desk. Similarly, he heard his eyes on the phone, lifted his head. You do not have to look at the screen to know who it was that was not there. Inequality.

“They’re all equal,” she mumbled, raising her attention.

“Huh? Excuse me? I thought the caller was technical support.”

“Here” Roger complains.

“What is that?” Can help a woman who has a strong voice of raucedine. Roger dropped chocolates.


“Do I talk to the technology department or not?” The voice demanded.

“We’re here. We’re the same.” Roger joked, waking up while a naked snail dispenser and grimacing Genetic COF thick mud.

“Well, I’ll tell you what I think” …it’s the ultimate lady -1

“Stop there,” Roger played on screen and pressed the application Cats blinking “talk about life.”

The battle was silent so it was.


“: How to say it was shit and fix my eyes and timing it”

“Life is as funny as being true?”

Where is the pilot? You need to talk to someone who can help.

“We’re here. They are all equal. We can help. ”

“This is not going anywhere, I will not believe it”

“Tell me who you are.” He sighed, and the lion was R. adaptable wig, gave him a Pompadour.

The “. I’m Rebecca. M16, since I always have my spaghetti and unplug the disc. I do not like spaghetti.”

“Well, what’s going on.” Roger said, “Tell me.”

“I think that in the future even more than before lunch waste, as well as a list of products and buy at Wal-Mart, and a person who says he called a taxi for him. I do not think your body. Look,”

“Hm. Tell me about spaghetti.”

“It reminds me, worms and stink do not like it. Once and for all, I dreamed that I struck a bag of Doritos and instead of having the SACE horn a bat and nothing to eat the face of the chip. ”

Roger clicked the monitor screen in time, the four-minute limit. In fact, they say that this four-minute administration began to tax the issue and efforts 1 to solve.

“Give me a second, evaluating’m the problem,” Roger said.

“All right,” he said stiffly.

Roger pulled the phone out and looked at the screen. He looked at his hands, over and over again, or rub the farm, from Carousel, who he needed it. I do not know why. And that was when I heard the ringing of the email. It seemed a small box on the screen folded and cleaned the fingers’ ends, pants.

And they closed their eyes to move that day on that day, read a tall voice and start singing. He mixes false compliments.

“Thomas! Sam to me! What is this disorder? Overwhelmed there will be no problem as it is, there is a flourish of irritable stuff and ticker hey, can not I help you in one moment? Fast Lodo?

“No,” Roger said. “I am very.”

“Uh, er, he Knops, a better one, is not what’s in the vines here, huh, that if they talk to them, say, six minutes of the video?”


The box does not raise its eyes already opened. Closed fish. Grows a red dot on the screen. He picked up recipes.

He was making a table headset listening to his voice with a hollow spit hey. Roger grew up again, without damaging the trouble.

“Here I am,” he said, “we’re going to be in a vacuum here. ”

“Well, is the problem? I waited. ”

“No, literally, because you forgot it. I can not see it, can we see the video?” she asked.

“Well, no,” she hesitated, “I’m in the bathroom.”

“Even better.”

He rose from the throne and took his knops from his chair at the same time. She is shelter, and they think she is depositing. I looked around. What is friendly. Each office chair has a beautiful bed with a flush toilet and 4/4 inches (with filter) and a black hood sleeping clock.

Roger hate the time varies. He was there for up to 6 hours because of shut down, producing better and sleeping in intervals.

Looking through the window and gone the way to the city. The panels were 40 when they saw the ring of fire on the hills. Content.

He saw all its inhabitants of the black layer on the sidewalks, as long as one hour and twenty minutes. People give it up. And he. Everything they want. “We are equal” and pulled them off mumble hard pin them.

The developers sounded and a woman entered. “Hey man.” He did not say his name. “I do not know,”she says.

“HE.” I got a sleeve.

“Return” means

Ripped and wailing.

“All right.”

The place started and wondered what she was. Life is the thought, turned around, and there is no T-smile that did not come. This is not funny.

He knocked on his knees and lowered half the door. With closed eyes.

“I forgot his name,” he said.

Why close your eyes? He told.

Tell us what name you call it.

“… Reba viruses. My living name. ”

“Excellent. We are here.”

What’s Health?

“Well, I had to question it, and then …”

“Say, home, business management … sickness?”


– Good to start. R. sighed and opened his eyes. A beautiful woman with a box on the screen, in her mid-forties, robust, comes with every garnish.

“I have red hair,” he said.

“We want you to.”

Four towels dressed in space were the best of the most humorous members. This is criticism. To admire the glow of the light source of a glittering glow in the four divisions of the R. many other times they did with them, they were unable to prevent the business outbursts of the new, the old and the life of the extreme

“Do you like me?” She asked.

“Not really. I do not know what you are.”

“What do we do now?” And Roger asked for earphones right.

What he saw, here is the email above. When he opened the box, full of old Sam explosion in his father’s office, at least the backdrop of new effort.

“Hey, you’ll need to tell. I know the top management is um, but they all have some things … ”

And I know, Sam.

“Oh great. How often a bout tone, such as block, has been closed for 3 minutes.” Sam smiled.

“The real feather?” Roger asked.

“Uh no. Why do you want to see me later bud!”

Dissolved into the box and Roger Rebecca appeared to play some bubbles.

“I have to go.”

“What is that? Wait.”

“See, for example, behind you and focus on what you are doing, how it is the cause and effect.”



Roger slept on his desk. When he heard the


Roger had to lie on the table.  


Roger had to lie on the table.


Roger had to lie on the table. Also, the phone she heard her eyes, head. You do not have to look at the screen to wist was there. Equality.

“We are all equal,” he mutters to arouse attention.

Huh? Excuse me? I thought that by calling technical support.”

Roger complaint.

“What is it?” It can help a woman have a strong rausedine. Roger chocolate.


“We speak the technology sector, or not?” The voice demanded.

“We’re here. We’re the same.” Roger joked about waking up, taking a slug of the dispenser, and a grimace genetic thick mud above.

“Well, I’ll tell you what I think, started the last lady ….”

“Stop right there,” Roger played on the screen and try to use flashing cats “talk about life.”

Still, there was so.


“That is to say that it was crap, and fix my eyes and time-”

“Life is funny like that, right?”

Where’s the pilot? You have to talk to someone who can help.

“We are here. We are all equal. We can help.”

“It’s not going anywhere, I will not believe”

“Tell me who you are.” He sighed and Leo R. accepts wig, gave him a Pompadour.

In. “I’m Rebecca. M16, because I always was my pasta dish and stop. I do not like pasta.”

“Well, what is going on.” Roger came to him. “Tell me”

“The rain, I think more in the future than before lunch to take the waste, and a list of items to buy Wal-Mart and a man who said that he asked for a taxi to him. I do not think your body. one look.”

“HM. Tell us about the pasta.”

“That reminds me, I do not like worms and stuck. Once all the dream that I got a bag of Doritos, instead of corner Sale bat I had, and he did not eat the face of the chip.”

Roger Click on the screen in time to mark four minutes. In fact, they say that the government has started four minutes tax issue and the efforts to solve one.

“Give me a second, evaluating’m problem,” said Roger.

“It is,” he said haltingli.

Roger went to the phone and looked at the screen. again and again he looked down at his arm or leg removed from the carousel’s economy, everyone is required. I do not know why. And that was when I heard the bell of the E-mail. It is a small box on the screen and folder purified more hands of pants.

visually, and closed to move on, that day, he read in a high-pitched voice, and begins to sing. He mixed with false compliments.

“Her! I Sam! What is this? Overheard not be a problem as we can anger and plenty of stuff to thicker Hey, that one moment? Fast Lada?”

“No,” said Roger. Very much.

“Uh, the button on the right, not the grapes Just six minutes, if they are talking about, say, the video?”

“Of course.”

box is opened up his eyes. It depends on the woman dying as a red dot on the screen. Picking up food.

Table listening to a headset Committee Tinn mad. Roger grew again without damaging the plants.

“I am here to,” she said, “there is still a vacuum. ”

“Well, the problem is that I waited.”

“No, really, because he forgot. I do not see the video you?” he asked.

“Well, no,” he hesitated, “I’m in the bathroom.”

“Even better.”

He rose from the chair and sat up button at the same time. Shelter, and I think that it will rain. I looked around. We are friendly. All office chairs beauty bed Flexi plate and 4/4 inches (filter), and changes in hours of sleep in a black hood.

Roger hated the change of time. He was detained there for six hours of operation, production is better, and if you sleep interval.

Looking through the window, and he went on the road. 40 ends, before the fire in the mountains. Contents.

He saw all the inhabitants of the black layer on the roads, as long as an hour and twenty minutes. People over them. And he did. All they want. “We are equal,” he murmured against them and pulled hard to pin.

Development sounded, and a woman entered. Hey, man. Do not tell me his name. I do not know, “he said.

“When the sleeve.

means “Return”

Beaded and lamentation.

“It is.”

He started the site, I was amazed. Life turned to life, and you have to Smiley T, however, did not come. This is not funny.

The Flexi knees and then lower the bar-door. Eyes closed.

“I forgot his name,” he said.

What would you close your eyes? He said.

Tell me what name to call.

“… viruses Reza. My name is alive.”

“Excellent. Here we are.”

What about your health?

“Well, I questioned, then …”

“Take home, disease management business …?”


a good start. R. sighed and opened his eyes. A beautiful woman with a box on the screen, are among the parties, sound and comes with all the garnish.

“I have red hair,” he said.

“I want.”

The square was covered with a towel-best, member orphans. This criticism. To admire the art of the light source is divided into four sections of the shimmering glow AR them several times, they have not been able to prevent the expected new business, old and living in extreme

“Do you like me?” He asked.

“Not really. I do not know you.”

“Do you love me?” He asked.


“What do we do now?” Asked Roger headset and appropriate.

We are here to e-mail stated. When he opened the box full of old Sam blast of his father, at least in the context of the new initiative.

“Hey, what are you talking about. I know that the Board um, but all have something special …”

I know Sam.

“Oh great. How often spotted fever, for example, block 3 minutes.’ve closed.” Sam smiled.

“The real deal? Roger asked.

“Just do not. What do you want to see more, bud!”

Shine box, Roger and Rebecca appeared to play a few bubbles.

“I have to go.”

“What is it? Hold on.”

“See, for example, you have agreed to focus on what you’re doing, so this is a cause and effect.”



Roger slept on his desk. When he heard the


Similarly, Roger.