Howie the Little Girl and her Pet Old Man Head have been dragged to the local college's Annual Beauty Pageant. They sit in the middle of the middle row next to Howie's mom, a large round woman wearing a pastel blue and yellow-striped shirt.

"Look how sparkly they are..." whispers Howie to Head. "Yeah, I like how stiff they walk, too. Like they're going to fall down." The girls walk around in endless circles, colorful dresses bejeweled with a universe of sequins.

"The talent part's next, Howie," nudges her mom. "We need to get you a talent, 'cause being pretty won't be enough, you know."

The first girl demonstrates a new kind of cleaning product. Howie's mom gasps in surprise at how easy it scrubs everything up. Howie sees a man on the edge of the stage holding a microphone stand. She holds up her best friend ever and waves him at the man, who smiles and waves back.

"Pay attention, Howie," her mom says as she points at the girl who is magicking her clothes off. The girl's small breasts jiggle as she walks around in circles, hands on hips, stomach sucked in tight.

Howie tugs at her mom's s sleeve. "I know what my talent is."

"Shh!" A skinny girl on stage juggles puppies.

"I know, Head," Howie whispers. "One day we'll win all the contests."

That night, after her mom goes to sleep, Howie and Head sneak out of bed to practice. They carefully put a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the middle of the road, and sit on the curb to wait.

It isn't until dawn that a car finally drives by, and it isn't until the fifth one that the sandwich gets squished.

"No," Howie says, "You're the most talented ever."

We're standing in the parking lot of a public library.

"_____________________________," I say.

"__________,"says Mr. Happy Puppet Head. He spins in circles with disbelief.

"________________________________________," I turn to make sure there isn't anyone behind me. "_________________________."

"______," says the Hamburger Salesman who had been hiding behind the bushes. "_______________________________________________________!"
"________!" Me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head yell at the same time. We turn on our heels
and run as fast as we can away from the Hamburger Salesman.

We weave through thick traffic in front of the high-school and duck into the graveyard. "___________________," whispers Mr. Happy Puppet Head. We find a mausoleum door unlocked and hide inside.

"________," I whisper back, pointing at the confused Hamburger Salesman, who is running in circles waving his red and black striped hat around. "___________."

"_________________," Mr. Happy Puppet Head starts crying softly.

"_______," I say, patting him gently on the back. "___________________."

We wait in the mausoleum until the Hamburger Salesman finally gives up looking for us when one of the caretakers asks him to leave. They get in a small scuffle, but when the caretaker starts screaming like a little girl, the Hamburger Salesman's spirit is clearly shattered.

"_______________," Mr. Happy Puppet Head sniffles.

I think we can all agree with that.

This one is called "Making Friends."

It's the origin story. Where it all began, etc.

We think it's pretty funny.

The wind came and took his last piece of meat away.

Wheat had never been hungry before. His entire life had been like pancakes, nothing to it. But when he found himself stranded on that small bump of sand in the middle of the ocean with his best friend, he thought, "This is the end of the easy life. Now for the hard things that come with castaway-ness."

"What are you thinking, Wheat?" asked Randall, his best friend.

"I'm thinking I've never been hungry in my life," he scratched his head. "I mean not really hungry. There's always been food, you know?"

Randall nodded his head. He knew what Wheat was talking about. Wheat took this to imply permission to kill his friend and ration out the meat to allow enough time for a passing oil tanker or air craft carrier to rescue him.

That was a while ago. However long it takes to slowly eat a medium-sized best friend, that's how long. So maybe a week or two.

"And now I starve," says Wheat. "With no one to keep me company."

"I'm here," says a voice. "Don't forget about me." It's the ghost of some ancient Egyptian Pharoh. Wheat had forgotten all about him.

"You think you could get me something to eat?" asks Wheat.

"Sure," answers Ghost-Pharoh. He produces a large cake, but it's a ghost cake.

"I can't eat that," says Wheat. "It's ghost cake."

"Really?" Ghost-Pharoh takes a large bite out of the side. "You sure? This stuff's good. Anubis made it. He's so awesome."

And the two friends--close but not best--sit on the bump of sand in the middle of the ocean. Ghost-Pharo enjoys cake after cake as Wheat slowly starves into ghostness, remembering Super Markets and Fast Food Taco Restaurants with fondness.

"Which one did you say?" I ask Mr. Happy Puppet Head. He is in the Sci-Fi isle, and I'm looking at the Comedies.

"I don't care, just get anything," he yells, far too loud for the video store. He looks around to make sure no one is looking, knocks over half a row of videos, and bobbles over to me.

"I think I'll get this one with the famous guy in it. I think I liked him in something." I pick up a tape with the famous guy doing a funny pose holding a flower.

"No, get the one with the hot chick," Mr. Happy Puppet Head says. "I hear she gets naked."

"Okay."

Later we are watching the movie with the hot chick. It's most of the way through and it isn't very funny, and doesn't look like she's going to be getting all too naked.

"Hey Midnight," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head. "Go make us some popcorn."

As I walk into the kitchen, I feel a tingling. The tingling that you feel when you walk into a Slightly Different Dimension. An alternate version of myself is standing in the kitchen cooking up some quesadillas.

"Hey The Midnight Mailman," I say. "Those're a good idea. I think I'll do that instead of popcorn."

"Yeah," the other me says.

"...So, what's Slightly Different about this Dimension?" I ask.

"Oh," he flips the quesadilla up in the air using only the pan, and catches it with the plate. "We got the movie with the famous guy."

"Of course. How's it going?"

"It's really funny."

We both nod our heads. We knew it would be.

"Okay, I guess I'll see you later," I say.

"Sure," other me says.

In the Regular Dimension I make some quesadillas. I burn one and drop the other when I try my flip-trick. That Other Dimension Me is always so much more a badass.

XTX and Bicyclemark are now inducted into our Hall of Favorite People We've Never Even Met.

They leave notes for us almost every single time. So they get drawings made of them.

And a story. Here goes.

**********************

INT. POWDER STORE - NIGHT

The store is dark and dirty. Powder is everywhere. Old ladies wallow in it, primping and porking their wrinkles.

HER
I'll leave this store when I damn
well am out of powder.

HIM
I'll leave, too. I hurry no lady.

HER
We are in love.

HIM
And I never stop the spinning.

HER
Okay, I have enough powder.

HIM
Quick, sneak some under your lids,
the janitor isn't looking.

HER
He never looks.

HIM
Yeah, he thinks cleaning
dirt is too funny.

HER
That's the old style. When there
were children who are now old. Like
Janitor over there.

HIM
Okay, now we left the Powder Store.

HER
Which button is it?

HIM
The Formula Lemon Unruley Chatter Hatter.

HER
Oh, sure. I found it.

Ignition was what.

Yes.

On Mars.

(The janitor thought it was funny to clean dirt.)

Thor Endur.

************************

"No, Hippo," she says. "Stop."

"Give me you," Hippo says.

And she easily outruns Hippo. Hippo is fat and slow and just doesn't want her bad enough.

She enjoys a cheese sandwich.

The End.

(I'm sorry for the slackness lately. there's been a little flu, and a lot of not having internet readily available. we'll be back on track soon, we hope we hope we hope.)

Roboctopus went into the children't parents room and knocked over a lamp. He knocked over the nightstand and rifled through the papers in the top drawers. He tore up the paperback book their mom had been reading. He ripped off the bedsheets and threw them out the window, as well as the pillows, but the mattress got jammed halfway and he spent a lot of time trying to shove it out.

Roboctopus flailed his tentacles against the walls until the framed pictures crashed to the ground. He emptied all of their hygeine products into the tub and left the hot water on. The tub filled over and spilled onto the floor. He tried to flush the towels down the toilet.

Roboctopus took took all of the medicines and hid them in a secret compartment in his robot head. Later that night, he slipped most of them to Potato and Patti while they slept. It was easy, since he drugged them to sleep in the first place.

They didn't have to go to school for a week after that. Which meant lots of time to have fun with their best secret half-robot, half-octopus friend who lives in their back yard ever.

The two children cheered for Roboctopus. But quietly so their parents didn't wonder why they were so happy when their stomachs had to be pumped so often.

The real giant monster has a poem.

"It's called, 'IN THE FUTURE,'" he says.

"Time travel machines will grow on trees,
While Machine Gun bushes blow in the breeze.

Blenders are tubers,
Grown underground,
And Racecars sprout up,
Bright red and round.

Lightbulbs grow fresh
For Children to pluck,
Lazer Guns flourish
With some Rain and some Luck.

I wish I lived in the Future,
Where it all grows on Trees,
'Cause working's for suckers,
And it all grows on Trees."

"I'm from the Future," says the mechanical giant monster.

"Yeah?" asks real monster. "What's it like?"

Mechanical giant monster shrugs its shoulders. "It's, I mean, I come here all the time. It's nice to get away from so much Future. You know?"

A butterfly flits by in the gentle breeze. They both watch it, amazed at the elegant and simple beauty of the world.