I Love Museums On the table there is a man's body. He has been dead for thousands of years. The bones of a sauropod are nearby. They are so old that they have become stone. Sixty-five million years old-and then some. Bugs are pinned to walls. A giant squid floats in formaldehyde, eyes open and plaintively vacant. Stuffed tigers are caught in the middle of lunges and kangaroos are frozen mid-hop. The dead are on display everywhere.
Bank Robbery "Give us the money!" Demanded the sock puppet in a high, squeaky voice. Its googly eyes jittered malevolently, threatening violence.
That TreePt. I I find the tree outside the window sketchy in both appearance and personality. Of course, this tree is not a person, but if it was, I would never trust it. It stands outside the window, tapping the glass and, in my mind, breathing onto the pane where the vapor condenses. That tree is bad news. That tree is the tree your parents warned you about.Pt. II The tree is spindly and quite possibly dead. No one actually bothers to investigate, as if it were a heroin addict passed out in an alley. If the drugs don't take him, then the cold will. No one cares because they know that new ones will sprout soon enough, filling forests and cities until next winter when the sacrifices will begin again.