The Man with 1001 CatsThere once was a man who owned an orange cat,But little did he know that that was not that!His little orange cat was a female, you see,And when she was out, she would look for a he.She hung out near dumpsters and walked along fencesAnd let out loud yowls that racked human senses.She would do all of this each night no matter what,And the man never knew that his cat was a slut.Then one day the man thought he heard a sound!A sound, so profound, he began to look around.There! On the porch! Snuggled up as warm as mittensWere his orange cat and five others; his cat had had kittens!They were adorable little things, from their noses to their tails,Each was orange with black stripes; three girls and two males.Looking at them there, he knew he'd keep them, every one,Or at least until the mom's job of nursing was done.So as the months went by, the man raised and loved each pet,But being naďve as he was, not a one saw the vet.So when the nursing was done, an
She Used to LaughShe used to laugh, but not anymore. When she was still in elementary school, she loved to laugh. Even the stupidest joke in the whole wide world could make her laugh, or at least make her chuckle. She used to laugh until tears welled up in her eyes and she thought that she would just burst if she kept it up. She would laugh hard enough to make her breathing turn shallow, and her laughs would turn into long brays and wheezes. The kids used to tease her about that though. They would call her â€śdonkey girlâ€ť and would call out to her saying â€śHEE-HAW!â€ť whenever she passed by. She didnâ€™t like being teased like that, and so, little by little, her laughs got quieter and quieter, and she laughed less and less. Eventually, the kids forgot about how she used to laugh and the names they had called her. She never forgot though. It stayed with her in the depths of her mind, and, by the time the other children had stopped teasing her, she had long since stopped laughing altogether.
Rooftop MonologuesI never thought it would get to this point. I underestimated desperation. I didn't count onthe pain. So much pain. And with the pain came the tears. Crystallized suffering slidingthrough slopes and peaks and contours. No, I didn't count on the tears. I never couldhave planned that my life could be this…unlivable. You were the last one I expectedto go to for help. I didn't want to come to this, wanted to avoid the situation. Butmy options have slipped away…like my tears. And now I have none of either.This is all I have left. This is the only way I gain control. I know what to do,how to get there, and where I'll end up. It might not be pleasant, but it'smore than I've had before. It's more than I ever expected to have.And now it's within arm's reach. The pinnacle of my life and soclose to the end. It's time I took control of destiny. I'm tiredof being fate's bitch. It's my turn now. Forget the people,they're ants from here anyway. Go about your insignific
The Gladiators ReworkedVast blue space spreads throughout the cosmos, oblivious of the carnage occuring within her embrace. A pinpoint of light plays host to murder as giants among men go through their routines. A silent playing field erupts in deafening roars as the audience pays respects to these actors of the final play. The next two emerge, their bronzed skin proudly displaying badges earned in previous acts, as the stage is cleared for the last time today. The crowd screams its approval, its face turning crimson. They are ready to begin.A spectacular event ensues as these courageous heroes of battle uncage their slaves of steel and hate. The lone morning star glistens in their sweat as they struggle to contain their shimmering beasts. The horrid creatures meet and embrace as sparks fly between secret lovers. One master denies its pet the company of the other, finding it a new sheath of soft and tender flesh.Both men drop from exhaustion, one never to rise again. A warm pool spreads along the
Streaks of LightStreaks of light fall around me, a collage of rays from a dying sun that silently wafts through the single open window. The same light that used to speak to me, comfort me, and led me ever after away from the madness of the day. Now it simply drifts past, ignoring me, forgetting all the help it once gave. I jump when the window slams shut. (Did it really surprise me as I say it did?) Nothing but darkness comes through the window now, strangely cold but not foreboding as I once believed it would be. Once held back by light, walls, centuries old, shake off their dust and slide increasingly inward. Locked doors splinter and the window (last means of escape) shatters into millions of shimmering fragments. I once believed the window was indestructable, amazing that I put such faith in mere glass. Nothing but walls now on all sides, forcing inward, slowly moving, grinding against the corners. They pause. Stopped now, thinking, calculating. Light shifts, the walls darken. They al