He could only eat things he didn’t want.
Author: John Rhea
John is a storyteller with design and development skills. He designs and builds websites at https://johnrhea.com, counts his words carefully at https://8wordstories.com and helps you kill zombies while learning web development right here at the Undead Institute.
He lives near Charlottesville, VA with his wife, Carrielyn, and, like, a lot of kids (eight at last count) plus more pets than is wise to enumerate. If you see him and he’s both awake and properly dressed, you know he’s having a good day.
Dr. Fancy Pants wasn’t a very scary villain.
“Just because you’re king of the universe—”
“Yes.”
He wanted to care for her, but didn’t.
“You will be remembered,” said the forgotten one.
“It doesn’t matter who wins,” said the loser.
“Insignificance stinks,” said someone whose name I forgot.
He fell head over heals into her trap.
The weight of his bad decisions crushed her.
The angry chihuahua barked at the giant spaceship.
She nobly died for a fool who didn’t.
Her only regret was that he loved her.
Mr. Fancy Pants fought against the fashion police.
He struggled to love her as she self-destructed.
From one tyrant to another, just crush them.
From one guy to another, love her well.
From one alien to another, humans taste good.
From one idiot to another, that looks stupid.
She coughed her lungs out onto the floor.
He called her “stupid,” but only labeled himself.