“She’s the flower of our swamp” the orcs utter with pride
When Swampflower’s in bloom, best have caution on your side
Orcs from miles around will descend upon her wilds
To fight one another for the honor of siring her child
Win or lose it matters not for eight to nine months hence
A war raid for baby shower follows as a consequence

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The door flew open on the wings of a battering ram and armed women flooded the room. Beatrix simply stared at them, paused in mid-brushstroke.

“Hah!” said the apparent leader. She grabbed Beatrix’s hand, examining it under a loupe. “Just as I thought. Tangerine and chartreuse nail polish! They don’t match each other or anything you own!”

“So what?” Beatrix cried.

“So you’re under arrest!” the woman snapped. “Take her away and book her.”

“Wait, you can’t do this!” Beatrix shouted as she was bodily hoisted up and borne forth. “Who are you?”

The woman-in-charge looked over her shoulder and swept her sunglasses off in a stylish motion. “We’re the Nail Police,” she said. “And we’re polishing you off.”

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Words are important. Lest we forget, the Alchemist-Mage wars, which lasted 30 years and claimed untold lives, started after a misunderstanding.

A blustering mage claimed that his business success would leave his alchemist rivals absolutely petrified, and they took it as a literal threat that they’d be turned to stone. So they struck first with the magebomb, and the rest is history.

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“I’d like to take Annie to the lodge, but Uncle Bob has cats up there and she’s allergic.”

“Man, when are you going to get rid of her? Your girlfriend is such a cougar!”

“Only during a full moon. You try being allergic to yourself ans see where it leads you.”

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At least his dad doesn’t get to hear it, he became deaf after a rainbowmine exploded near his trench during the second and a half world war! LEST WE FORGET.

Those were dark days. Many gumdrop unicorns came back maimed and hornless from rainbombs. Luckily, he survived, but at what cost. AT WHAT COST?

Why do we keep up with this mayhem?

The war is still going on, in those countries that nobody dares to pronounce. Like MOLISE. But we don’t care, we turn a blind eye. All for our own egotistical profit. Who cares if we’re not going to see rainbows crossng our clear blue skies anymore? All they care about is their black gold: the licorice mines.

You can see a thousand of documentaries on the black market behind those precious goods. Some say its worth sky-rocketed after the first and a half war exploded, creating an ever growing popular demand due to the relevancy of the news. But why do we keep mining it? The government lies, but what can that business of baboons hide from us? Especially when it pollutes our environment so?

We do know the reason: if we don’t, somebody else will, and we can’t let that happen.

Sustainable red licorice has been available for decades, and it doesn’t taste like butt either. Yet, no research progress has been made it that field. NOT EVEN A LITTLE. It’s as if they were trying to milk everything they could from the black kind only to finally destroy our ecosystem.


It has to stop.

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The light snapped on, and Melody gasped. Her Chiro-Sure memory foam mattress was sitting at the counter, with a gun menacingly laid atop it.

“Wh-what?” said Melody. “Chiro-Sure? How…?”

“Where were you, Melody?” The mattress’s voice was soft but firm, just like its body.

“I was at my boyfriend’s house,” said Melody. “Why do you care? HOW do you care?”

The Chiro-Sure seemed unmoved. “Did you think I would forget, Melody?”

“Forget what? I-”

“DID YOU THINK I WOULD FORGET?” roared the memory foam. “I never forget! I can’t!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Melody cried.

“Did you think I would forget how I hugged the curves of your body? The intimacy we shared? Did you think I would just forget as you went and shared that with another?”

“But…” Melody stammered. “But…!”

“You made me do this,” said Chiro-Sure. “It’s not me who killed you. It’s you who killed me.”

The pistol barked. Then, a moment later, it fired again, spattering the window with bits of memory fluff.

And that is why you NEVER use memory foam pillows or matresses. THEY NEVER FORGET.

Paid for by the Box Spring Manufacturers Association of America

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Have you ever tried chewing without a mouth? I did. Mainly because I don’t have a mouth. Getting the food between my teeth is extremely difficult.

You might ask what point there is in doing so without a mouth. Well, I secrete an extremely potent acid in my throat that liquifies just about everything that isn’t me. It doesn’t do anything to my teeth either, kind of a consolation prize for the whole no-mouth thing. I can squirt the acid between my teeth at you if you get rude or by accident, so be careful.

Naturally, that gives me a bit of a strange look, so I wear my happy mask so people won’t stare. It’s made of solid brass so it won’t corrode, and it’s featureless aside from two holes for my eyes. I think people find it dashing, really.

I take after my father, as they say. I never did find out how Mom met the Dread Faceless Muolih, let alone had a one-night stand with him, but the unholy screech of my birth did paralyze her and drive her insane, so I never really asked.

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