My head hurts. I don't know why my head hurts. I can't move my hands. I wish I knew what was going on. It's dark. It stinks. It's hot. Why does my head hurt? I wish my head worked better. Sometimes I can think and think and not get anywhere. I wish I was smart. Maybe if I start at the beginning I will know why my head hurts so bad. I close my eyes tighter and think really, really hard.

Chris Flood stepped into the waiting room. He had a clipboard in his hand and read through the list of names.

"Claire Barton. " He glanced at the two athletic looking women seated before him.

"That's me, " said the pretty blonde dressed in white.

"You're up next." Chris led Claire into the back room. He sat behind a rectangular table and looked to the woman seated next to him.

"Hello, " said the woman. "My name is Bonnie Marsh and I am the casting director for this film."

"Nice to meet you, Bonnie." Claire hurried to the table and offered her hand. "I'm very excited about taking this screen test. "

"Good. " Bonnie looked past Claire and motioned for the leading man to come over. "I would like you to meet Gavin. "

"It's nice to meet you. " Hot blood rushed to Claire's face and flushed her cheeks.

"Nice to meet you as well, Claire. " Gavin's thick black hair fell loosely in front of his face. He gracefully brushed it back with the tips of his fingers and exposed his dark, deep-set eyes hidden beneath.

"I want the two of you to run through the scene."

"Aright, " said Claire.

Chris got behind the camera and waited for Bonnie's verbal cue.

"Action!"

It wasn't a party, whatever the office wide e-mail said. For one thing, parties were voluntary. People counted down the day until the big event, and then cut out of work early beforehand to buy a good bottle of booze or bake a dessert. When they were getting ready, showering and brushing their teeth, they'd try to remember that really funny joke they'd heard a week ago, then practice it twice in front of the mirror. And they'd try to come up with a way to make their job sound exciting, if they couldn't avoid bringing it up completely. If it were a party Harry would not have been trying to think of an excuse not to go right up until ten minutes before he got into his car.

Summer school was a drag. Home Economics was the worst; cooking slop for a grade, but at least it wasn�t boring.

Not after we accidentally put death on the menu.

The worst of the worst was washing dishes. Right up until the time we bought well, you've seen the ads.

"Love to cook, but tired of messy clean-up and dirty dishes?

Quantum Cookware has the answer for you - the Quantum II lined pots and pans. Move over Teflon and Goldstone utensils; we use String Theory technology to coat the inside of our kitchen wonders with Membrane Universe material.

No more baked on food. No more scouring pads. No more soaking. Food particles not only don't stick - they're not even there! Where did it go? We don't know...and we don't care! Neither will you!

Scientists say that in some alternate universe your pan is still clean, and you can have that clean pan each and every time you cook.

What would you pay for this miracle of Quantum Physics? Forty-nine ninety-nine? Twenty-nine ninety-nine? But wait...don't answer yet...because with each order of our cookware we will throw in absolutely free our Einstein Spatula, with extra long handle and the world famous Hawking Gravy Boat."

Ray Giovanni handed Jessica the hard drive from his laptop and said, "Get this data to Fox News."
Wearing an expression that was far too serious for a 15 year old to have, she took the hard drive and sped off on her skateboard.
In a blink of an eye, her expression turned into one of blissfully empty joy more suited to her age. To the casual observer, the interaction looked like the skateboarder had bumped into the businessman and have been reprimanded for her carelessness.
The sun was setting. The vampires were becoming more active. It was up to Ray to call attention to himself- to serve as a decoy so that Jessica could get away safely. He clutched his laptop, as if the proof of the vampires’ plan for world conquest was in his laptop and not with Jessica, and hurried down the street.
A vampire was following him. He was a small weasel of a man, but vampires are deceptively strong. Another one dressed in a redskin jacket dropped his sports magazine and followed too. A young girl, not much older than Jessica joined them. Soon a crowd was behind him. He walked faster. They walked faster. Then he began to run.

The Globullon counted the five travelers in front of him before slipping backwards to sixth place in line. I stepped out from behind the two way mirror.

"Please step this way, Alien," I said.

His eight eyes looked at the Lobulot behind him. All the other aliens stood in line eyes focused on the luggage scanner. Most of the Delinquents aliens knew we pulled every fifth traveler out of line for a search at this Inter-Galactic Transport Hub. When I stood in front of the Glubullon, his eyes rolled backward. As an enourmous three hundred pound green mound, I could only see the whites of his
eyes until his pupils appeared from the bottom of his eyelashes. He read my badge, Security Expert, Maltesa Grey.

"I’ve got nothing hidden," he said but followed my arm to the grey door.

"We’ll soon see."

It was morning and I dreaded my day already. Globullons had purplish gloop inside the twenty three folds of their prickled skin. That meant a difficult physical search. I followed the light purple mist of the Globullon into the search room.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I watched the tax man's black sedan pull into my driveway. He'd been doing that all morning, going from one house to the next, collecting the amount due from each neighbor he visited.

And now, it was my turn. I suppose I could have hidden inside my house, pretended that I wasn't home or something, but the penalties for being past due had undoubtedly become much worse than last year's. Nope, I would have to face the tax man on this day, as it was the Fifteenth of April.

Gently shutting his car door, the man held his briefcase in one hand while he adjusted his tie with the other. He began his short walk towards my front door, and smiled when he saw my form standing behind the screen door.

"Fire! Fire! Burn the witches!" the children chanted. They danced around the large bon fire, sometimes jumping through the smoke. This was the Halloween fire, the Coel Coeth, lit to protect the families from fairies and witches.

(dedicated to the band Helena)
The bum had been hiding from the wolf all day. He hadn't
had time to eat but that didn't matter. He didn't have
any food to eat had there been time.