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 by BoyWonder

 

 

The scene: An idyllic houshold, with no peculiarities. The cast: A traditional nuclear family, living caricatures from a Norman Rockwell piece. The parents make small talk as they all eat a breakfast of bacon and eggs. The children hurriedly scarf down the meal, eager for school. The mother picks up the dishes and together they walk out the door to begin the day. Their footsteps make no noise as they walk on the black dirt where grass grew once upon a time. The father takes a whiff of the toxic, poisonous air and declares it is a fine day as he waves goodbye to his family and begins the trek to work.

 

 

The brown and grey pollution that covers the sky shields the land from the scorching sun. The father whistles a tune as he carefully manuvers around the corpses and trash that litter the road. He decides to take the long way since there is yet another traffic jam made up of destroyed cars and fallen buildings.

 

 

“Morning, Jim.” He says to no one in particular as he steps into the decrepit office, with holes in the celing and decomposing bodies at the desks.

“Another day another dollar, eh?” He says for the 5,789th time to his cubicle neighbor. He types on the broken keyboard for a few hours, despite the monitor having a cracked, blank screen. Eventually he gathers up a few discarded papers, organizes them neatly, and picks up the suitcase he never opened, ready to go home.

 

“See ya tomor-”

 

He stops midsentence. Something…isn’t right.

“I…uh…morning, Jim…heh…wait. Uh…” Suddenly his head feels like someone has hammered a nail into it. He drops his empy suitcase and looks around. The father of two walks around the office, causing the rats to scurry away from their meal.

“I don’t feel very good…something the wife cooked maybe? Hah…”

 

A part of him knows there is no one here to talk to. Yet such thoughts feel …wrong. “Of course there’s people here! Richard, you sly dog, you were just over for poker night last week! Right?” No response of course. Yet he has heard his friend speak millions of times before. Why, he wonders, is Richard…and everyone so quiet today?

 

“I need to go home and lie down maybe. Sorry, guys, don’t let my episodes distract you, haha…haha…haha.”

He wanders out the doors and begins walking home, forgetting his rustic car. Glass crunches under his shoes in the very old parking lot. Head still hurting, he walks to the charred skeleton of a tree and sits aganist it.

 

“What’s wrong with me…feels like everything is falling apart..” He runs his hand through his hair and feels something odd. It feels like an ant has bitten his finger. Expecting to see see a red bump, he instead sees a small blue wire protruding from his index finger.

Go right the fuck ahead then

  by Zchxz

 

 

I didn't quite catch them red-handed, but honestly why the fuck else would my wife be in the shower while my best friend peruses the more expensive section of my wine cellar? It's a good thing though. I think if I hadn't gotten cut-off at the light over on 3rd I might have seen some things that would have led to some seriously heinous revenge.

Likely death, for at least one of us.

 

 

Instead, I like to think I took the whole thing pretty well. Obviously they denied everything, but I'm not a fucking retard. I can smell an affair a mile away after the years of frat-boy fucking my college girlfriend enjoyed behind my back. Dodged a bullet with that one.

I'm glad to a certain extent that we don't have kids to tear apart with the drama - I've heard plenty of horror stories about custody battles. But of course I'm bitter about it, who wouldn't be? It's one thing to throw away an otherwise perfectly wonderful marriage, another thing altogether to have the two people you trust most stab you in the back with an emotionally-poisoned dagger.

But again, I think I took it pretty well. Sure, I threw out a few death threats and strongly considered suicide a few times, but once I got us all to sit down and talk it all out I felt better about it. Who am I to stand in the way of true love?

 

 

I filed the divorce papers as quickly as I could, paying for the expedition from our joint account. After that, I became ordained and performed the ceremony myself as both minister and witness. They both said I didn't have to do it, but I figured it might provide me with some semblance of closure.

 

 

There was quite a lot of crying involved. It was a very emotional wedding.

I check in on them from time to time, make sure they're faithful to each other. Till death do them part and all. They still cry every time they see me - I think they still don't think I'm over the whole thing. And maybe I'm not, but making sure they remain together helps a bit.

 

 

They've tried pulling apart several times now, but I stitched 'em up pretty good. I suppose they'll eventually get separated though, what with months of his cock rotting in the acid of her cunt. Once in a while I go down to extract the blood and urine, make sure she doesn't burst or anything like that.

No clue what I'm gonna do now that she's pregnant, though.

My first house

 by An Anonymous 

 

 

This is a pretty long story of the scariest thing that ever happened to me in my life, I hope you guys never have an experience as bad as mine.

 

I recently moved into a new house and now live alone. The house is near a small town, maybe 2 miles away. The house itself in the middle of a nicely wooded area in a smaller town, which is perfect for me, I love the serenity of the woods, being untainted by urban life. The idea of having a barn thrilled me, with all of the possibilities of what I could turn it into.

 

My parents recently gave me this house as a graduation gift. The house was given to them by my grandparents, which is strange because we didn't live in this house growing up. In fact, my parents never mentioned it to me until I graduated college, admitting that they much preferred the city life over living in the middle of nowhere. My mother lived in the house briefly until she was around 7, when my grandparents decided to pack up and move one day. They never sold the house, they said there were too many memories and at the very least my parents could use it as a vacation home. They never did.

 

The house was in a slight state of disrepair, however I couldn't care less. I was a homeowner! Mowing the lawn and clearing the branches was the easy part, the real work began within the house. Dusting old furniture, clearing cobwebs and throwing away old canned food. It took me about 2 weeks of cleaning until I decided it was sanitary enough to move into.

 

I decided to take a few weeks to just relax, I was tired of partying and I didn't want to start searching for a job just yet. I spent my first day at the house hiking near the creek, fishing on a small pond and meeting folks in town. That night however I was restless, there was no tv and I didn't have any books other than text books. I needed something to do after it got dark out, so I started exploring the house. In the attic to my surprise was filled with random furniture, toys and trinkets from my mothers childhood. I found baseballs cards, jump ropes, a little football helmet, action figures, a doll house, board games, ect. This was fascinating to me. I then found an antique dresser, which I found my mothers diary. Jackpot! I can read this at night until I fall asleep.

 

Not this night however, I was tired and decided to go to sleep in my new bedroom in my beautiful new house. Sleep came fast, however I was woken by creaking from the stairs and attic. This was to be expected living in an old house, I was sure I'd get used to it. The next day I decided to check out the barn, I'd decided to turn it into a hobby lounge where I could do woodworking or whatever my wavering enthusiasms desired. The barn was in fact in pristine condition, aside from a pile of cigarette butts in the corner and a musky smell which hung in the air. The smell was the only thing that bothered me, I am a nonsmoker I hate cigarettes, the stench they give off makes me want to vomit. There was a very unstable looking ladder leading up to the loft, which I decided not to use, the last thing I needed was to break my neck in the middle of nowhere. There didn't appear to be anything up there aside from some hay creeping over the edge. After picking up the butts, I realized that I had more free time than I planned, since I assumed I would spend the day cleaning the barn.

 

I decided to explore the attic more, as I could not find my car keys to drive to town. Oddly enough I swore that I left them on the kitchen table next to my wallet, as this is what I have always done with any set of car keys I own. Asides from an old mirror and a pile of old cloths, I couldn't find anything of much interest. As I left I noticed that there were less dolls than I had remembered, and I could swear one of them was not there before. Whatever, I decided to just read my mothers diary.

 

Lying in my bed I read through the diary, laughing at the entries of the diary. Several of them mentioned her older brother "James" throwing tantrums for no apparent reason, punching himself in the face or trying to fling his baseball bat into a tree. My mother must have had a very overactive imagination as a child, she had no siblings and grew up a single child.

 

 

I marked the page I was on and went downstairs to get a snack, growing more annoyed by the constant creaking in the attic. I decided to go to town the next morning and find someone who could fix it. Remembering I

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