Escalator panhandler.

2006: The year that would not stop sucking.

Margarine of error.

Flattery got me nowhere
I have nothing but contempt

No one ever pushed me.

"I don't have any god damn future endeavors"

"Even my pretend friends are boring."

"Good afternoon, Commodore."

At the foot of the mountain, but high on a hill,

He has fallen victim to the ever present, ever vigilant, and most destructive human tendancy to categorize and compartmentalize...

The pot called the kettle black on almost every count.

Morris and Walter stared blankly as the truck rolled down the hill. Walter realized he should have put the brake on. As the old pickup wrapped around an oak tree, Morris decided it was time to give up on motorized transportation.

Morris watched as the embers of the fire spiraled up into the night sky.

"Seriously, who burns books. Even the bad ones don't deserve that."

Miranda watched the bush closely as robin closed in on its prey. The unsuspecting worm was snatched up in an instant, and the robin fluttered away into the spring time air.

As Miranda pondered her favorite high school teachers, she realized she did not have enough to warrant making a list.

"Sometimes it happens - we find out that our heroes are fallible. Its part of life."

"I want you to spend some time thinking very carefully about what you are going to do next," Morris explained "because what you do from now on is going to change your life and the lives of everyone around you."

Walter looked intently at the trees swaying in the breeze.

"I'm a culinary failure! Cooking is just another thing I can't do." Gina bandaged Walter's hand and leg as he sobbed and moaned. Miranda looked down at her feet in uncomfortable silence.

Marco put his head on Gina's shoulder.

"I am you're brother," he said quietly.

"Its true," Gina replied, "It has taken me sixteen years to find our parents."

Walter pulled the tragic result of his hard work out of the oven. As the pan came to rest on the hole in his oven mit, he shrieked. Walter jerked his arm, and in an instant, the burnt loaf shattered the kitchen window.

Morris stooped down to look beneath the truck. Oil poured out of the crank case like an animal relieving itself. From here, they would have to walk.

Walter stopped running as he passed the statue. Out of breath, he turned around and rested his hands on his knees. Miranda arrived, panting.

"I win," Walter announced. Miranda kicked him the crotch.

Walter grimaced at the proposition. He pondered it only briefly before leaving and slamming the kitchen door in disgust.

It was not the end. Miranda arrived to the enterance of a large, green tunnel. The floors were covered in glossy, olive tile and the walls and ceiling were a similar color. It was dim, despite the long blue fluorescent lights. At the end the was an ordinary door, complete with knob on the left side.

Shoes were the only thing left of Miranda after the grenade went off.