From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.

Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, February 27th, 2008 and is filed under Humor, Prose. Comments are closed; the conversation is kept as it was.