So, you're sneaking things out to the trash in secret?
Too much TV is bad for your eyes and the fabric of space-time. A rent in the universe opened up behind my entertainment center last week. Every now and then, a hideous tangle of tentacles and fangs comes screaming out of the wormhole, lashes around for a minute or so, then slowly wiggles itself to death as it chokes on our nitrogen and oxygen atmosphere, We dump their bodies in the trash. Double-bagged. Those fangs are sharp, you know. The dog ran through the portal this morning. The kids want me to go after him. Screw that. We're getting fish.
Inspired by a friend's story called "Sanford's Calico."
