55 Words

“It’s worthless and not fit to coat the inside of a pig’s intestine.”

But, he was warned when he announced he was taking his manuscript to G. Harvester, The Editor of Doom- You’ll either be a star, or you’ll fill his inkwell.

Harvester’s quill got fresh red ink, and no one heard from Bobby again.

The post-Outland fall was tragic. There was only one avenue for a well hung, silent penguin, and that was the grind of the penguin porn industry. But, even that gave out.

Fortune once again smiled on our destitute flightless friend as he discovered Twitter DM’s and PayPal.

Morgan Freeman narrated his Olympian biography, The Opus.

‘Ha! Look what I found on the bathroom wall at the gas station in the seedy side of town => http://3qws2.th8.us #whoisthat #omg’

Three years of building up to over 200,000 followers who actually listen to me on this bogus account, and a trip overseas to catch her with the camera.

Submit.

Victory is mine

He took every call that came his way; talking people down and scooting them to help. He was the best in the game; no one caused more pills to be flushed.

One glowing ember in the dark. Burning flesh smelling sweet. Never enough.

The fire was out, and a note found.

“Who will help ME?”

Fading in from the gray, you realize you’re pinned. Your hearing is starting to come to life; from behind, “mmmpph…ucker!”.

Alarms!

“Hire a driver from Craigslist, you said. Well, cops are coming and we can’t leave him to talk.”

You hear a familiar click just before an explosion. Jolt, and then quickly fading to black.

“You fools don’t have enough on me,” the handcuffed man sneered over his shoulder as he was lead away.

The detective was prying a blood soaked manuscript for “I Am God” from the dead psychologist/amateur book critic’s hand.

Staring at the letter opener plunged into the victim, The detective muttered, “Yeah we do, you narcissist.”

The break-up was predicated by the statement made during the afterglow of passion.

“My sexual appetite is changing.”

“Baby, you know I’d do anything for you.”

I was hoping for whiskers or a tail implant. A pig’s heart might have done the trick. But, he is now a woman, which I find so damned unappealing.

Sorrow is waning as I see how her waxen hair glistens in the ghostly moonlight.

The single tear has dried.

Although brief, my love for her was deep, passionate and full of rage. Enough rage to drive the blade 13 times.

I will rue no longer; there will be others, as there were before her.

“You know how tight grandma is. Like the way she keeps milk past its expiration date.” Glenn giggled, “So it ain’t no surprise to me that they found her tryin’ to do ‘it’ with grandpa, who’d been dead a whole week.”

“E-w-w-w-w” Choked Katie. “I’ll never drink milk at grandma’s again.”

Harry was the first of many in the span of a year; a span that covered September 11th 2010 to September 11th 2011.

Harry was found dead in his chair. Gun in one hand, a list in the other.

“What the fuck are those names and numbers?”

“Harry pulled arms from rubble at ground zero”