Freezer WorldThe moment the door sealed shut behind me I understood the freezer people wanted me dead.
Here’s a bit of advice: Never trust a person who willingly locks themselves in a freezer because the world as we know it is over. And when I say over, I mean done, cooked, burnt to a crisp and never coming back. No electricity, no cars, no twitter, no turkey subs, no elevators. Whoever survives whatever comes next will eat dirt and ash and walk everywhere and take the stairs. But not stairs inside buildings because buildings as we once knew them are gone, melted, dissolved into nothing but nuclear dust. Whoever survives whatever comes next will live in huts made of nuclear mud. Or walk-in freezers. |
by Timothy Hennum (873 Words) 
time for a freezer nap by hypersapiens | Flickr
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Two Flash
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“That’s how they getcha,” Grandpa whispered in sync with Kevin Bacon. “They’re under the got damned ground.”
I grinned, loving the moment. “Sons of bitches,” Grandpa mimed cocking a rifle in time with Kevin. He raised it to his cheek, aiming at the TV. “Boom!” I slap the couch. “You get it every time.” “Kevin hits it every time,” Grandpa leaned back in his ancient recliner, folding his hands across his belly. His eyes flicked toward me, curious. Then they lit up with recognition. “Kevin! Want to watch Tremors?” It was the third time he’d asked. “Of course, Grandpa.” |
FameI began the sculpture with little in mind, trying to focus but incapable of true articulation. I always arrived at the lab exhausted by daily cares, only wishing to lose myself in my gestures, thinking possibly of nothing. That would work, in this particular case, as the instructor had requested a cluster of primary shapes inspired by a common theme. I could let my hands go, unworried of a final design that I would figure later. I started patting blocks of clay into spheres, halving them for easier handling. I smoothed, then reassembled them two by two.
I was thinking of rocks. Stone formations that I knew from my childhood—huge calcareous concretions, large boulders with a moonlike feel. By association, I recalled the mighty profiles of cactuses crowding those same mesas and plains, neatly matching the harshness of the granite terrain. |
by Toti O'Brien (1139 Words) 
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Doggerel [ daw-ger-uhl ] adj. 1. (of verse) comic or burlesque, and usually loose or irregular in measure. 2. rude; crude; poor. |
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one tiny elephant
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