Once the shock wore off, we found the zombies pretty easy to deal with. They don’t really have any senses or intellect, so they can’t pursue. They don’t smash windows either: they just kind of bump into walls like sad bumper cars. 

Even if they get into your house, they usually just get stuck in the corner. You can poke them with a broom and they will wander back out into the street. 

So, life goes on. 

The only real bad thing is having to clean your car all the time. 

Yuck.

He was repainting his bathroom and picked a nice faint green shade. 

At least he thought it was going to be faint. Once on the walls, it looked more like mint ice cream. But hey, he liked mint. 

Later, he bought some towels and, on a whim, he grabbed purple ones. 

Green walls and purple towels: where had he seen this color combination before? 

Oh yeah: The Incredible Hulk. 

“GRRR. Bathroom ANGRY! Bathroom SMASH!”

He commissioned a mathematician from the university to study and devise a better way to store cannonballs on the deck. 

The solution they came up with was a triangle pattern of stacking that reduced the amount of space taken up. 

Shortly after they set sail, they were attacked by pirates. 

The captain, as he went down with his ship, noticed that the pyramid of cannonballs exploded beautifully in all directions. 

“Why do you always take pictures when I’m eating?”

Ken frowned at his sister standing there, camera in hand.

“I don’t know. Probably because that’s what we do when family gets together. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Memorial Day. We meet, we eat, and we go back to our lives.”

“Can’t you at least wait until I’m done eating? Every photo album is page after page of me behind a plate. I look like a fat bastard.”

Irene smirked and poked his beer belly.

“Yeah, imagine that.”

She went to find someone else to photograph, leaving him sulking in his mashed potatoes.

They greet him with sincere smiles and joke that he always orders the #3 with extra gravy.

But they are like family now. He sees them more than his brother.

When he falls ill, it is the waitresses who organize a collection to help pay his hospital bill.

And they keep his stool vacant until his return.

The master will be home soon, and he likes things nice and orderly. 

Red 5 is making dinner, while Red 2 lays out a change of clothes. 

Red 1 supervises. That’s what she’s earned by being first. It also means she knows what every Red knows. 

That’s why she made the plan. 

Red 6 has the chloroform. Red 3 has one of the master’s golf clubs. Red 4 is digging a hole in the backyard. 

And Red 8, the newest Red, has the most important job: to find new names for every Red.

It had been storage of some kind, years ago. Now it is vacant and unreal. 

Marcus wants to understand. He has been here for weeks making notes. 

He has entered all ninety poorly-lit rooms, each with a small door. 

Ninety rooms laid out in rows: nine rows, ten rooms per row. Each room has one door, and there are no other notable features. 

Marcus has checked and double-checked everything.

And he’s sure: there are ninety rooms. 

But, there are ninety-one doors…

Britt shook his head, disregarding Raph’s concern. 

“No man, you don’t get it,” said Britt. “These are all necessary modifications. It’s gonna be like Mad Max in a few years. Real Road Warrior stuff.” 

“Britt, we live in Kansas. I don’t think there’s going to be any ‘Road Warrior’-ing. You gonna have a tractor joust with Old Man Watson?” 

Britt looked up and smiled, “If I have to.” 

“That still doesn’t explain why you want to mount a harpoon gun on your car though.” 

“Because it’s awesome!” 

Raph looked at Britt’s car for a long while before he answered. 

“On a Mazda?”

Finally, he will take no more and, alone, he will head into the desert. 

All alone. 

Far from society. Far from people and lies. Far from betrayal. 

In the desert he will find peace. 

Peace and truth, in the sand.

This was no ordinary McDonald’s. These golden arches were in Tokyo. 

Julius had heard stories of fast food places in Japan. How every item was unique and there were dozens of variations. 

“In America, we fear change,” he used to tell his friends. “We want the same old things, but in Japan they like originality.” 

When his time came, Julius froze. It was overwhelming. All those choices washed over him and left him paralyzed. 

Before he knew it, he was sitting with his meal: just a plain old Big Mac and fries.

The satellite defense systems had picked him up. He had hoped his luck would buy him five more minutes, but not today. 

“All this fuss for a bunch of flowers!” 

He swerves towards a small outcropping, buying time for a better escape. 

Very few worlds can sustain earth-born plants, so those that can often find themselves in control of vast fortunes. 

Dominic merely wants a piece of that fortune. 

He calculates a new trajectory and accelerates away, while huge beams from orbit disintegrate the outcropping behind him.

But no one else ever seemed to notice. The Yellow Brick Road, the Woodsman, the Lion: no one mentioned them.

Just because my name is Dorothy, she thought, doesn’t mean I have to crack up this way, does it?

She asked the Scarecrow, “Am I crazy?”

The Scarecrow shook his head. 

“It’s not you Dorothy, it’s them. They don’t want to see. Even if the Yellow Brick Road is right in front of their faces, they don’t want to see.”

“So, what am I supposed to do then?”

“What only you can do,” he said. “Show them the way to get home.”

Sam just sat, staring at the TV.

“C’mon Sam, it’s me!” Hey, look over here.” called the ghost.

“It’s no use. He won’t look up,” said the ghost of Sam’s ex-wife. “Look at him.”

Both ghosts watched as Sam idly flipped channels for another hour.

“Hey can’t hear us,” said the ghost of Sam’s ex-wife.

She sighed.

“He’s already gone.”

Tobias had heard his Grandpa ranting like this many times before. He used to think Grandpa was being facetious, but it was obvious he really meant it. 

So, Tobias googled and GPS’d his way to the small country town his Grandpa had grown up in. He followed the exact same path from his Grandpa’s house to where the old school had been. 

And his Grandpa was right: walking to school or home, it was uphill either way. Had to be some kind of geological anomaly. 

Before he could investigate more, a black SUV pulled up, and two men in black suits approached.