That hair, those pantsuits, her tachyons entangled within the sphere, vibrating at just the right frequency so that they exist and do not exist simultaneously.
Cloaked in steam, his eyes wild with the burden of an eternity no human should experience. He gathers strength from a woofing crowd of "people who have had their blood replaced with tiny machines."
Bodiless and tireless, they move with an obscene purpose.
One wizard thinks our President's magic control initiatives have gone too far.
Are we not allowed to be real parents anymore? We may have feared the CyborFreaks, but we damn well respected them and learned about boundaries.
Ron Paul spins in his chair, trying to grab his decorative antique musket but Freddy gets it first.
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