“Look at all the phones,” said Paul, miserably, upon entering the freshman cafeteria.
Tyler Bardwell, Heading West.
“They’re just names,” admitted Frederick. “Just names.”
Paul Gironda, The Magic Valley.
The worst decision ever made was concerned exclusively with zeroes and ones.
Roger Hedgecook, Stolen and Sold for Parts.
In the alley, on the back wall of the building, in large dripping letters, someone had scrawled, “I think with my knees.”
Wallace Weeks, S.O.S.
Gloves are a warming thing.
My browser is the one called Bing.
I stripped the mitten off my right hand,
I played drums in a high school band.
I now dwell in a churning ring of liars,
I would turn it round with a golden pair of pliers,
So it turns, turns, turns,
That bunch of tires, that bunch of tires.
Patrick Malmsey, Verse.
With psychology, it is all or nothing. One “psychologizes” everything—not just this or that.
Desmond Urquhart, The Unsocial Sciences.
“Okay, class. Imagine you’re an airplane flying overhead. And you can write messages in the sky. What words would you inscribe? Elizabeth? Tell us your message.”
Chadwick Graves, Maoist Struggle Session and Other Stories.
He seemed to be saying, “Look! I am a clown, dancing for your entertainment.” But no one was ever actually entertained by a circus clown. That’s an established fact. And is easily proved.
Clifford Apogee, Draining the Pools—A Collection of Stories.
“Something that at least resembles arithmetic should have been considered before plunging onward.”
Ralston Dowd, The General Ghastliness.
Under the title were these words: Ink Jet Print on Archival Paper. And what do those words mean? That we will never be rid of the item.
Archer Sturtevant, What’s Happening Now.
dennis scharnberg 