Fiction

In this one place I once visited, the opposite of “hardest” was “the most profitable.”

A Real Explorer, or Revolutionist, couldn’t write fiction even if he held a gun to his head.

I found something interesting on that little planet just over that way.  The creatures there tried their very best to “figure out” what their existence was all about – until they realized what they were doing.

This one guy would sometimes gaze off all around the universe and mutter, “It’s all friggin’ busy work.”

Oh and there was this other guy I met that was cute and he’d sometimes tell himself, “Don’t take it so seriously.”  And then at other times he’d have himself tell him the same thing.

J.