The galactic government hotly debated the shed’s color.
Genre: Science Fiction
“Alien farts, in fact, do smell like roses.”
Connor’s counter conflagration consumed considerable constituencies of colonists.
The zombies found his lack of intellect distasteful.
The spaceship landed on the Southern Wicked Witch.
Her tongue flicked into his mouth, laying eggs.
She dressed in the finest human hair available.
He chose the wrong spaceship and wrong girl.
He teleported far away from everything he loved.
The alien’s arrival at that party was inconspicuous.
The electro-samurai fought space aliens, criminals, and politicians.
Oblivion consumed his anxiety in frothy amber bites.
He looked through time, forever fearing the end.
He could not say humanity was worth saving.
The airlock door didn’t lock their air in.
The space-station’s oxygen ran out on day three.
“I eat dress,” the alien said and did.
The militia picked a fight with the aliens.
Jim was abducted along with Fluffy and Puddles.
The alien overlords were neutralized by pudding cups.