The transportation authority’s office for teleportation mishaps swelled.
Author: John Rhea
Zombhard run last news paper of apocalypse
The alien cloned itself to escape court system.
“Tell me a story.” “You’re Mom loved you…”
“Do robots dream of electric sheeple?” “Probably not.”
“That lady could sell death to a zombie.”
“You need to know… the monsters are real.”
“Well, hello there, Smelly Kelly.” “Hello, Impotent Bob.”
“Mom loves you very much.” “What about you?”
“Sometimes I leave the seat up for fun.”
He followed the clues to his utter doom.
The disintegration ray somehow worked on his marriage.
He diffused bombs, but died of a papercut.
He got emotional when she burned the burgers.
The senate hired a dictator to make decisions.
The blood from his boots speckled the carpet.
She got gas, but he already had gas.
He smiled the last time at his divorce.
She smiled the last time at her wedding.
His stuffiness heralded a long and fruitless marriage.
Captain Stretchy reached for her heart and missed.