“Don’t get off!” the filthy man with purple gum in his hair shouted at Ezra. He turned and barked the same phrase at the other commuters.
He looked familiar, Ezra thought as he clutched his backpack, but the man’s sunglasses and cloth face-covering prevented him from placing him.
Ezra’s temper was on a hair-trigger. Losing his temper meant losing his grip on reality and someone might die. He slipped off at the next stop.
Soon, he sat in the park to calm down, but someone was making a repetitive cracking sound. …
When you ask where my ideas come from be sure,
That you’re ready to go on the grand tour,
Get ready for a wild ride,
As I take you deep inside,
My mind where all my ideas are far from mature.
Here you’ll see some truly startling sights,
And learn my characters control all my rewrites,
“We know what’s best,”
My heroes expressed,
They always get their way in all of our fights.
I might start out with a detailed grand design,
Or okay, maybe just a title and tagline,
But they always take the reins,
Like little brain hurricanes,
It’s their story and my job is only to refine. …
While falling from the top of Nakatomi Plaza at the hands of shoeless John McClane, Hans Gruber staves off his terror of defeat and impending death once he realizes that he couldn’t possibly be beaten by a raggedy-looking, down-on-his-luck detective with no shoes. …
“I did a great job at losing. I lost bigger than anyone has ever seen before. I lost bigly and magnificently. All will tell of me, the fabled loser for years to come. I lost so big and I’m the best at losing.”
Those were the words that rang through the east side of the White House. Only seconds before, the president had falsely claimed that this election was a fraud on the American people and had declared himself the winner, but reporters were baffled by his strange and sudden shift to truthfulness.
“None of us knows what happened,” said one White House correspondent. “The president was on a roll with his usual rants and lies and all of a sudden, he just started doing something he’s never done before. …
Does your teen suffer from the inability to talk to you without looking at their phone? Is their answer to, “How was your day?” always one syllable? Do you only see a spark in their eye at the mention of online gaming? Do they say things that your mother would have answered with the help of a long wooden spoon?
If one of your most frequent thoughts around your teen is, “If you only knew how good you have it,” then treat them to a chance to see things from your point of view and send them to our Back to the 90s Bootcamp. …
Some bookstores have sections with magical authors,
They craft spells and suspense and mix in some monsters,
At most bookstores,
One section makes me feel miniature,
It’s the one with Patterson books penned by all of his partners.
I came upon this section with towering bookshelves,
It seemed so mystical as though inhabited by elves,
Or at least so I thought,
Wow, this author writes a lot,
It was just the Patterson books written by all of his pals.
Walt yelled ahead to his little brother over the menacing sounds of the big kids who had taken chase, “I told you I didn’t want to go!”
Feeling like he was now too big for trick or treating and not wanting to deal with it, Walt had tried to hide from Henry earlier that night but his kid brother finally found him underneath the porch. After an eternity of begging, Walt had finally relented. “Fine. But I’m not gonna wear that sheet again like last year.”
For some reason, he kept having visions of himself tripping on the sheet and falling headlong into the path of an approaching car. Now that they were being chased, he thanked himself for going costumeless. …