Mewd

Son of the Fist In the far flung future world of 1997 AD, Earth is facing crisis. The governments of the world are helpless before the might of an invading Martian empire that no military force in the world can stop. Desperate, humanity is left with but one possible recourse: Enlist the help of the world's most POWERFUL major league boxer (so that he can beat up the aliens.) Can one man in boxing gloves put a halt to the Alien War Machine? Or will Earth be destroyed once and for all when its most vital resource is taken away? Witness the final battle between the unknowable armies of the Red Planet and a guy who punches things in this thril

The door buckled under the third kick and Ken Warden burst through the splintering wood like a wild jaguar. With one quick glance he knew that the room was vacant. His arch rival, Richard Cashford, had already escaped with the artifact in hand. Gritting his teeth, he swore that the villain wouldn't get far. There wasn't a moment to waste: He hurled himself bodily out the east window and fell into the street at a terrible speed. With a loud crunch, he broke his fall on the hood of a Camero automobile parked outside the hotel. He hauled himself out of the twisted ruins of the vehicle and found his secretary waiting for him patiently. "Any luc

As viceroy of the flying city of L'hahn, I feel it is my duty to document the truth behind the incident that will soon destroy our long-lived nation. Well, more factually, I tried to order my subordinates to do this, but they refused on the grounds that it would be incriminating. It's easy for THEM to hand wave this, personal security and all, but they haven't got to deal with a Historians itch. If in the distant future there is not a rotting book at the back of some neglected library detailing the TRUTH about what is happening here today, I just know my soul will be roasting in whatever layer of hell normally reserved for people who commit

"YOU CALL THIS HONEY BUNCHES OF OATS?" Captain Q looked down at the cereal bowl, considering it carefully. "No, I call them cheerios." First mate Mewd flew into a rage, stomping across the table, he upended a salt shaker and hurled a napkin over the edge of the table.  It came drifting back into the first mate's face, sending his arms flailing. "Mewd, PLEASE calm down," said Captain, hoping to spare the pepper a similiar fate. "YOU calm down!" For an instant, the Captain became the very picture of absolute tranquility. "Now Mewd," Q admonished, "You must not underestimate how important breakfast is. I will have to ask you to sit down."

Gretchen's vision came into sharp focus all at once; what she saw overwhelmed her as much as the putrid stink. Dizzy and disoriented, she felt she could faint. The rotting dilapidated foyer of the grand hotel stretched before her. Ancient wallpaper peeled like dead skin off the crumbling walls. Sickly colors of decay blared opressively in the dim light while the crunch of trash and debris was underfoot. Her mind was foggy and burdened by a fierce headache. She could remember so little about herself beside a few slippery facts that she barely held onto. Eleven years old, she mumbled over and over, desperate to keep from forgetting. Eleven ye

The Aryanian skitterbit is perhaps the most dangerous animal to be found anywhere on Earth. In spite of being no larger than a golf ball, and closely resembling one to boot, the skitterbit will instantly expel a deadly cloud of poisonous spores whenever it is frightened, startled, angered, or bored. These spores are instantly fatal when inhaled by any land-dwelling mammals that happen to be within a radius of half a mile of the skitterbit for the better part of an hour. Unfortunately, while the skitterbit is in no way an aggressive animal, it is unreasonably easy to startle. Loud noises, sudden movement, physical contact, the wearing of whit

A stone I am, Unremarkable in any way; sharing my life with the land where I sit, nestled. Content to settle here, never dreaming elsewhere. Joy in my unmoving fate, savoring the mundane, the familiar. Always grateful for what I have. I sit on my grassy gnoll, the hills all alike, the wind in the groves, rustling the trees, Beneath my merry hillside. Those that pass, happy incidence, welcome guests with lessons to leave. Never staying, I am left lonesome in my joy. Until... There came a princess to my hill, who had no kingdom, no land to rule I knew her for her noble birth, for she was not like any maid that came befor

The girl was unsettled. Her eyes were sunken, hollow, and tense; with gray bags earned from lost sleep dangling beneath. No one could quite guess what worry, fear or pain haunted the young woman so much, but everyone who was left in her wake could not help but feel a great deal happier with their own lot in life. Her name was Miss Penny Fernberry, and she was walking to the psychiatrist's office on a fine April Tuesday. Penny had set up the appoint a month ago, about the earliest she had the nerve to schedule, and now reluctantly meant to attend to it. She did not walk so much as she did move with an absent sort of grace through the world,