And now I am at this house, my childhood home. I myself do not feel like a teenager. I am wondering aimlessly downstairs. I feel hungry and afraid and nervous. For some reason I do not have any pants on. I am looking for my pants. I know that my girlfriend and my dog are asleep upstairs, possibly in my old room.
I want to find my pants and then go out the front door. I have this terrible feeling that I should just run away and leave everything and everyone behind. I am scared that going outside will wake up my dog. I don't think I will ever find my pants.
He took a picture of each statue with his iPhone.
He printed a copy of the picture with his portable Photo Cube™.
He framed the picture and added the inscription: "This is a statue. It exists in your woods. It is also a tree. Chop it down and take a picture of yourself holding it. Email the picture to firstname.lastname@example.org and I will pay you $1."
Then he hung the frame in the men's bathroom of one of the town's fast food restaurants. If the town didn't have a fast food restaurant, he lived in the town until it did.
Trigger McTalon is very old and very rich.
by Yuh Junkol
I am in a police station. Apparently someone I was with was connected to the copter crash, or did something unruly post-copter incident, so he/she is now in this funny rural jail. One of the cops or non-cop police station employees figures out that I filmed the helicopter on my iPhone. I am told that I can either delete the video or be placed under arrest. The guy saying this has like olive skin and jet black hair, and is at least one-foot shorter than me. He watches me delete it. I immediately feel horrible about deleting it because A) it was such a cool thing and now I won't be able to share it, post it on the internet, etc. and B) I remember reading on a blog it's well within my rights as a goddam American to be able to film anything I want, including weirdo helicopters tail-spinning to earth outside fancy restaurants. I think I am starting to contort my face into a pout.
by Codge Helk
by Namm Isling