His chair couldn’t hold the weight of regret.
Author: John Rhea
Zombhard run last news paper of apocalypse
“I want justice! Retribution! Revenge!” “I want candy.”
“Bless me father, I have sinned a lot.”
“And POOF he was gone!” “Magician?” “No. Ex-husband.”
“You walled off my room? Real subtle, Mom.”
“Your dress is lovely.” “Your tie is… loud.”
“My head hurts…” “Solving problems with it again?”
Cold pancakes… This couldn’t possibly be my fault.
He fainted at the sight of her blood.
“I can’t write a joke in eight words.”
His grand vision failed him at just sixty-five.
“I’m just an anonymous corporate employee—” “Hi, Sarah!”
Someone knew it wasn’t right, but said nothing.
The children screamed loudly and often, with delight.
He could not understand her at all, ever.
“You look stressed out.” “Thanks… that totally helped.”
“Your Dad’s an alien?” “Yeah. He likes vegetables.”
Earth pets are a delicacy on Rigel seven.
The children’s character couldn’t relate to other adults.
She cuddled her velveteen rabbit. He cuddled back.