“You can’t live on bread and circuses, Bubbles.”
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.
The alien believed in humanity’s worth (as food)
“He flew a dragon?!?!?!?”
“No. Found a dragonfly.”
He put himself on the honor roll undeservedly.
They fought like cats and dogs and alligators.
In the year of the dog, Fido absconded.
“Sugar was his downfall, well, her and Candy.”
She was noisier than a pack of dogs.
Her South American trip was a banana panorama.
“He’s called ‘Special K’ because he eats it.”
He was less OKcupid and more just OK.
He was jealous of the AI’s love poems.
The AI fell in love with his wife.
“It’s literary fiction.”
“Nothing happens!”
“That’s the point.”
“That’s the circle of life.”
“Ewwww. Gross, Mom.”
They tied the knot that Hercules cut apart.
He took her hand in marriage appendage swapping.
She stole his heart out of his chest.
“Aliens like to use Uranus as a latrine.”
She danced through all her exams and flunked.