AllegoricalJim Halpert liked tuna fish sandwiches. They tasted good with grape sodas, and they were easy to make, but still kind of different. A tuna fish sandwich, he decided, was just fine. So he was confused when he got back to Scranton and almost immediately started packing ham and cheese sandwiches again. It caught him by surprise one morning as he yawned and stumbled over to the fridge, still in his early morning daze, one hand grabbing the jar of mayonnaise, and his other hand automatically reached for the meat and cheese drawer. He was halfway through making the sandwich before it hit him, and he stopped with the butter knifeAllegorical
A Dish Best Served Cold"Maverick? It's me, Sarah. Pick up the phone." Maverick Alexander blinked once, twice, and then licked a finger and turned the page of his book. He was thumbing through Stephen King's collection of short stories, 'Everything's Eventual,' and currently reading "LT's Theory of Pets." The irony of this did not escape him. "Maverick? I know you're there. You're sitting in that ratty chair of yours right by the goddamn phone, never answering. Just like you always did." Maverick realized he'd read the same paragraph twice, and closed the book. He tossed it on the coffee table, and picked up the beer he'd opened half an hour ago. TA Dish Best Served Cold
Broken Hallelujah: Story"How thou art Fallen from Heaven, O' Lucifer, son of the Morning." Lucifer picked the tiny plastic sword out of his Appletini, examining the olive on the end of it with utmost attention. His cold blue eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, a slight twitch in his expression, but the aura of violent rage around him flared wildly.Broken Hallelujah: Story
Across the room, a young man in the middle of a business lunch overcame his moral qualms and signed his company over to a corporate jockey. He continued eating his exquisite masterpiece of a salad, and several of his best workers were, unbeknownst to them, resigned to the unemployment line. At the
Assassin's Handbook: Chapter 1The Pit was a dark, cramped hole of a bar that operated beneath one of downtown's many chic cafes, and it was the most exclusive joint in the whole city. The club was crammed into a space no bigger than the average basement, and it catered to an up-and-coming crowd of rebellious rich kids. Twenty-somethings who listened to the Clash and the Germs in between classes at the private colleges their CEO mothers and fathers paid for. Ever Saturday night the place was packed full of Johnny Rotten look-alikes and girls with too-short skirts who couldn't remember their original hair color, all of them becoming one seething mass as they moshed to 'AnarAssassin's Handbook: Chapter 1
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"I'm not scared of falling," he told himself. "The bit I'm scared of is the bit when you stop falling, and start being dead."
Neil Gaiman, Neverwhere
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Bto.Inc //
You're Good For Me, My Baby ... I Know You're Good For Me....
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"I shall call you ageless, faceless, gender-neutral, culturally ambiguous, adventurer person. AFGNCAAP for short. " --Dalboz the Dungeon Master, ZORK: Grand Inquisitor
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My friends call me Meg, but you can call me Fabulous.
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"Sorry, looking at life with a contemptuous point of view has always been a hobby of mine."-Adian John Gray, DUKE OF HELL
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