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.
Are you concerned that you may be a character trapped in a Tom Waits song? Be smart and learn the warning signs before it's too late. Also, it's too late. It has always been too late.
I'm haunted by a recurring vision of a skeleton flipping me off. To avoid seeing this terrifying image in bumper sticker form, I pay someone with a blank bumper to drive in front of me at all times.
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.