My name was Sir Winterbean Calligraphy. I lived in a walrus shell, once upon a time.

Blue mists swirled between the densely-packed trees. It was impossible to see more than a few feet despite the full moon overhead.

Misery loves company. Or is it cornflakes? I can never remember.

Today I calibrated an oxygen tent. Yeah, that's the kind of exciting work I do.

“That's it,” Jade said. “She's gone.”

Icy clouds raced over the horizon. It wasn't a good day to have to go outside.

Headaches suck. That was the only thought he could get through his head. Over and over, all morning. And he hadn't even had a night of partying to make up for it. It was just one of those mornings.

Reggie took the wine glass and sipped it. He leaned back in satisfaction. Everything was turning out as planned. They'd have the girl back in short order. The boss would be happy. Nobody would ever need to know about the slip up.

Robots living forever in anarchy. Is this what we've come to. I saw a screwdriver in the street yesterday. It was rusted through. Good for nothing at all, save to clutter the road and remind us of how things used to be. We meant something once. More than a crumbling tool sitting out in the rain until nobody even remembers what we're here for anymore.