Tooth fairy stole my wallet in the night.

His breath stunk of cheap beer as he opened the Toyota repair manual to preach to the dumb masses before him. Money and lots of it was the hidden goal of todays sermon. No better way than to sucker the masses with a homeless puppy and Clydesdale horse fantasy story. Hell with this story he probably could sell shit beer in a can on super-bowl Sunday.
The church assistant carried a dirty box toward the podium and the preacher pulled out a dirty puppy that had a bad case of the fleas. Another assistant led a broken down Clydesdale horse down the center of the church toward the podium. The horse was bought at the local glue factory for 10 bucks.
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There is no happy ending.

She opened her eyes and was startled to see a black stallion outside her window starring at her. Vapor steam condensed the window when the stallion exhaled. She struggled to slide the window open just a tiny bit. She reached out an touched the long black mane of the stallion. The hair was sticky and clung to her fingers.


Her bed was next to the bedroom window. On her knees in bed she pulled with all her might and the window opened enough for her to squeeze out. Pulling on the mane of the black stallion she struggled, finally her knees scraped the window sill and the stallion gently pulled her away. Helping ease the escape.

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Have you forgotten.

The flowers were shades of different colors gently swaying with the summer breeze. Birds chirped. Busy bees zigzagged in circles collecting the abundant pollen. Lots of spooky spiders spun their web in the Van Gogh sun. Giant sun flowers stretched toward the dizzy sky. She was alone, but felt love all around.


She walked toward the stone spring house down the mountain. Cold icy water. Clear and transparent. Green and blue salamanders scooted about as she dipped the ladle into a dream. The spring house was chilly and damp. Heaven on a hot summer day.

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Another day another rooster crow.

One day he woke up dizzy and sick. Sitting on the edge of the bed he lit a cigarette and sat there thinking. The room felt stuffy, even though the window was open. His ear ached from swimming everyday. Was it time to die or make another French press of coffee. Thank god he didn’t have to work in the donut shop anymore. He was free, thankfully to welfare. The only thing he was required to do was vote every four years for the latest zombie president. Slowly he walked toward the thirty third story window and stood up on the edge of the window sill. And jumped.

Midway down he had second thoughts and deployed his suicide prevention kit. It was a round container about the size of a pack of cigarettes. The cellophane wrapper was heat wrapped tight to the container. Time was ticking. He passed the big church clock and saw the time was around 7:30 in the morning.

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Shake it don’t break it.

After awhile he just sort of ignored the bullshit of life and checked out the ass. No matter where one ended up in life. Whether it was the rich, middle or ghetto. Ass was always there to gaze upon. Seems people like modeling their ass if they have a good one. Tight leotards or Lycra clothing works well, but not with everyone.


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Bananas are naturally slightly radioactive.