One could taste the blood lust in the air, the need for hurt. The ladies surrounded the last bag of candy. And words were no longer working.

He came home depressed about his life. What’s wrong? his wife asked. My personal soundtrack’s morphed into something by John Tesh, he sighed

There are so many cars here but none of them are Japanese. And all the drivers look like Kirsten Dunst. And all the men are sad and awkward.

Tony got in his white suit and strutted down the street, late for a meeting. Frank called out, Lookin good! Just stayin alive, Tony replied.

He thought he was alone in the train but he heard a tiny popping sound. He went to examine it and found a tiny old lady. I farted, she said.

He heard trumpets and thought for sure he had expired but he opened his eyes and crawled out of the rubble and caught the end of the parade.