Tales Of The Crack Is Whack

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The modern haiku is more about the messaging these days than the meter. Sad. Source.

To say he was stoned on the crack cocaine was a half-truth, because in actuality, he was both whacked and wasted. Little did he know it, he was also ten minutes away from dying. Without giving too much away, he’s going to freak out over something he sees, and his feeble heart is going to plain give out.

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Cat Killed Curiosity

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For all you cat lovers who oppose claw removal, keep in mind that you feed your cat this shit.

The tabby cat named Felina, paused to clear her throat, and promptly hocked up a hairball shaped like an abstract Funko® figurine, but moister. With that out of the way, she continued, “This “new” dry food is not good.” She lifted her paws to air quote. “Furthermore, “tuna flavor” must mean wet cardboard.”

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There Ain’t No Cure For The Suppertime Blues

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A family that eats together, talks together. Conversely, a family that talks together does not necessarily listen. Like when dad comes home wasted and you know mom’s pissed, all livid and venomous, and grandma’s smiling, always smiling, pretending there’s nothing wrong. She is the great enabler. All the while, you’re just a kid, so the adults think you’re so stupid.

Papa Bookman grunted as he stabbed the piece of pork chop with a slightly bent fork, and put it in his gullet, followed by a healthy handful of mashed potatoes. It is surprising that he managed to yet say, “Where is Heather?”

Marigold, the eldest, knew where her youngest sister was, but she did not hear the question. Truth be told, even if she had heard it, the non-response would have been the same. She was adrift in her sumptuous meal. She sounded like an idling bulldozer, an omnipresence of humming, breathing only through her nose. She was also drooling hard; there was a glistening flow of spittle from her lip to the table like the just recent melding of stalactite and stalagmite.

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The Alternate Batman

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In this alternate universe, The Batman has a very short lifespan.

In your puny universe, a very young Bruce Wayne witnessed his father, and especially his mother get shot down by a hoodlum, by the name of Joe Chill in Gotham City’s Crime Alley. On that fateful day, a boy also died, and a vengeful man was born, and he would become The Batman.

While his intentions were true, he inadvertently turned the city he’d sworn to protect more dangerous. The presence of The Batman inspired nutcases to come out of the woodworks to commit outrageous crimes just to become famous. Being a criminal in Gotham was not much different than being a contestant on The Voice or American Idol. But this is your asinine reality.

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