I was walking my sister home from school one day in early spring.
She was quietly humming twinkle twinkle little star as cars drove past.
It was the first tune she’d learned in the asylum.
Softly, she sang to herself whilst flipping a shiv through her fingertips.
She slipped in Laquisha’s cell and drove it deep into her stomach, exacting her revenge.
She had always hated Laquisha. Laquisha deserved the stabbing.
In fact, if Laquisha hadn’t already been stabbed, she would have finished the job herself.
So instead Laquisha’s boyfriend, Carl, had to finish the job.
That’s what Carl does.
After sinking the cruise ship, the portal of baby hands, and the meat dragon, this was no surprise.
Negasonic Teenage Warhead could not be phased.
At this point, nothing would surprise him.
These stories are collected from two evenings of collective story-telling at the theme house. Authors are credited in the tags.