Kids reminded him of what he lost: Quiet.
Author: John Rhea
Zombhard run last news paper of apocalypse
His campaign limped along on ego and hubris.
“With support from friends, both imaginary and otherwise…”
“Imaginary friends do too count!”
“But you’re thirty-seven!”
During harvest moons vampires and werewolves work together.
The vampire hid his love for red jello.
“I’d like to donate my body to SCIENCE!”
“I often beat jokes til they’re lame.”
“Yup…”
“Oh, the humanities!”
“That joke was funny… once.”
The alien invasion ended with a whimper, humanity’s.
The aliens conquered via bureaucracy and precision ineptitude.
His naked resolve was rather unbecoming in daylight.
The sci-fi author wouldn’t believe aliens were real.
“Mom, yo-papa jokes aren’t really a thing.”
“Yet!”
“Then what does ‘friends with benefits’ mean, Dad?”
The alien smirked and served the human brisket.
The potatoes heard about French fries and revolted.
“Babies are malevolent demons!”
“You’ve met my son?”
“‘Danger’ is my middle name.”
“It’s not ‘Clarence’?”
The mouse, duck, and dog conquered all media.