December 21, 2011
Custom User Avatar
More by this author
The last paper boat sailed across her river today. Her rickety chair creaked brownly against the porch and she spit out her cud and grabbed her gun. Wiping her hands on her apron, she looked and aimed crookedly, and aimed again, finally shooting the greasy-looking crocodile who was smiling evilly at the little white tug.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback