Turkey Day Tired

Eighteen hours of running, cooking, and cleaning I was pretty drained. Sauntering casually in to the dining room, at thirty-minutes until midnight, Mothman offered to do the last of the dishes and clean-up of the kitchen. Bless his heart. He wiped,...

Commander in PUN'd-it Speech

    First off, (I know, thank you. Please hold your applause.) I would like to thank my campaign manager Walkaboutman, my constituents, campaign staff, supporters, and Nikola Tesla. (Rest his soul.) As you know, here in the fictitious word lab, I...

Dr Bunsen! What have you done?

Dark! The lab, the feeling in the air, the last chapter written for nanowrimo. Not the end, mind you, just a flashback from the days of ancient Europe, "Dr. Bunsen" just held up her plague-mask in a ray of sunlight and petitioned the lord that it not...

DR Contortrix Goes to Dinner

After a long night of metaphor mixing and syllable stirring in graduated cylinders of grammar, I took brunch with the love of my life. I mean the other one, not word science, the human.        Zipping down the old gravel road in the Paradox Mobile,...

Aha! Found the flask!

Don't bother asking me where it was. Walkaboutman, my superhero sidekick, is the only one who knows where that bottle had been hid. And he isn't talking. All I know is that it is a little lighter than it was previously and a peculiar odor lingers...