Breakfast of Roadkill

“Hey, Charlie! Charlie!” Fat Huey glanced left, then right, as he ambled across the highway like a small tank. “Wanna grab a bite to eat?” Charlie squinted into the rising sun. He’d been basking in its warmth, enjoying the solitude. Dinner still rounded his belly, but at the mention of food, his innards rumbled slightly. Read More …

That Which Doesn’t Kill Us…

My friend Bruce likes to torment me by posting pictures of ginormous spiders crawling out of toilets or itty bitty arachnids hatching out of wasps’ nests to take over the crawl-spaces in your home. He’s generally a good egg, if slightly cracked – he knows better than to throw a fuzzy, stuffed tarantula on my Read More …