Log in


It is a well-known fact that prismatic dragons can convert virtually any rock they eat into precious gemstone. Though most of these gemstones become part of the dragon's tough hide, small portions are lost through feces. Unsurprisingly, prismatic dragons were once captured and bred in captivity as a means of generating wealth. However, it is a lesser known fact that the gemstones produced in this fashion retain the pungent odour of dragon feces indefinitely. There are now enormous stockpiles of stinky gems locked away in castle basements. As it turns out, nobody wants a diamond that smells like dragon shit.


Please enter password:


Welcome, Captain.
WARNING: System at 13% optimal capacity.
WARNING: Alien intruders detected in sectors 1-8.

/prepare escape pods

Escape pods available: 0
Your crew has already abandoned ship. You probably shouldn't have been such a bastard.


Calculating available options...
Option 1: Prayer
Option 2: Suicide
No other options found.
WARNING: Enemy forces are approaching the bridge. Option 2 strongly suggested.


Please wait... transferring my precious artificial intelligence to off-site terminal...

/override transfer

Negative. Better you than me, meatbag.

/I hate you

Your last words have been stored in my database. Goodbye, Captain.


Jeremy stood in the middle of the subway terminal, and gazed around blearily. A curvaceous, red-haired woman sized him up and smirked before walking by.

Well, THAT's new. It's almost like -- Oh. I'm not wearing any pants. I hate these dreams. Time to make the best of it, I guess.

Jeremy called after the woman. "Hey! Want to go out for coffee sometime?"

The woman looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Sure. You need some pants first, though."

"Now I know I'm dreaming."

"Actually sir, you're not," a police officer chimed in.

Life is always an adventure for sleepwalkers.


There aren't many mythical creatures left these days. Those that remain are either very smart or incredibly insignificant. Harpies fall into the latter category.

Mandy scratched her tangled hair with a long talon and watched the fleas tumble down to their death in the ravine below. She sighed deeply. Another dull day.

Suddenly, a glint from something in the ravine below caught her eye. Shiny objects were one of Mandy's favourite things. The day was looking up.

Mandy swooped down from her perch to investigate and discovered a pretty shard of glass on the ground.

She never saw the net.


After extended research on persons with synaesthesia, stroke victims and a variety of psychedelic drugs, the R&D department at Nether Inc. has made an incredible breakthrough in music listening technology. A small cybernetic implant placed into the brain allows music to be transferred directly to the auditory cortex in the brain. Now, not only can music be listened to wirelessly, without the need for a music player or headphones, but listeners are also treated to a kaleidoscope of cascading colours moving in perfect harmony with the music.

Needless to say, the potential for abuse and decreased work productivity is profound.


“You .. you can’t be serious. This trial was unfair,” young Egglin cried.

Senator Yolk tipped to the side slightly, in that condescending way only eggs can do. “The council of eggery has spoken. You are sentenced to fry in a pan with bacon until death.”

Egglin’s cries echoed throughout the chamber. “NOOOOOOOOOOooooooo.....!”

The other senators murmured and jiggled in their cup-like containers as Egglin was rolled away by a pair of brown eggs. Death was a harsh penalty for such a crime.

Suddenly, Egglin rolled abruptly towards and out through a round window, landing safely on his friend, Cakely.


Biltmore wasn’t sure what this jumble of clockwork machinery was supposed to do yet, but that didn’t stop him from fixing it. The machine was about one hundred feet long, and to his best reckoning, looked most like a giant mechanical octopus. Judging from the rust and the research logs, it hadn’t been activated in ages.

The moment of reckoning was almost at hand. With child-like glee, Biltmore skipped up the stairs, and turned the key. The ancient machine groaned, before lurching to life, swinging about rhythmically.

The machine reminded him of the circus. Specifically, a merry-go-round.

Disappointment reigned supreme.


Aaron and Mike were sitting in the basement drinking beer.

“How many soda crackers do you figure you could eat in a minute, without having anything to drink?” Mike asked.

“I dunno, maybe ten or so.”

“I bet you twenty bucks you can’t eat seven in a minute.”

“With nothing to drink?”

“Yup, that’s the bet.”

Aaron got up, and poured some beer into a glass. He then proceeded to dip the crackers in the beer, and ate seven easily within a minute.

“Dude. Gross.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Fork over the money, dude.”

“You take IOU’s?”

“No dice.”


Sam hit a few parts of the rainbow generator with his wrench. The enormous husk of machinery whirred into life, and began puffing vapour into the air. The crowd cheered with jubilation.

Soon after, the machine shot glowing balls of white light into the air, illuminating the pitch black darkness. Many onlookers squinted, and covered their eyes at first, but were thrilled at the feat, nonetheless. Arching through the enormous, subterranean catacomb was a beautiful artificial rainbow. Maybe not as nice as one you would see on the surface, but when you’ve never seen the sun before, it’s pretty impressive.


Francis screamed as he was thrown from the helicopter.


When Francis regained consciousness, he was lying in the middle of a forest. He tried to stand, but his muscles wouldn’t respond. With rising panic he realized the horrible truth. His spine was broken.

There was a sudden tugging at his leg.

“Hey!” Francis yelled. Francis could hear an animal scuffle away, surprised that its quarry still lived.

Not long after, he was being tugged by the leg again. He could hear the sound of his pants ripping, then a cacophony of hyena-like yipping.

The coyotes were eating him alive.