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August 07, 2005
Volume 5, Issue 7
Although with our general absence of posting one might think so, fret not, lil'chirrens, these aren't the last words of 100 Words of Les Nessman.
However, today's theme is "getting in the last word."
Ted: Finally
So, all of this started when somebody said "let there be light."
Right.
So then what? Light and water and earth and birds and fishes and beasts and finally man and his dominion.
Sounds like an acid trip.
So now, here at the fucking heat death of the universe, there are just two things left alive, me and you. And you don't count because I'm not even sure you are real.
So, what now?
Do I kill you first to find out if you are real, or do I kill myself hoping you will die when I stop imagining you?
Andy: The Coming Silence
No one trusted the government when they told us what was happening. No one believed the scientists, bespectacled bores on every channel with a graph of this, a chart of that, all of them pointing to the same outcome. No one took notice when they hung that clock in Times Square, ticking down to zero, because those things are just approximations.
Usually.
But on October 8, walking through Times Square, I looked up and saw the countdown make the slow roll from 1 to zero.
"Shit," I said.
And that was the last word ever spoken aloud. Shit. Eloquent, eh?
Laurence - Rush job
Malakas the Sculptor hated rush jobs.
He preferred to plan out his work, drawing up the plans and measuring out the perfect proportions for everything. Sharpening chisels and testing the material was his favorite part of the process, not the actual work.
Fat chance. The king was due back in Athens tomorrow, and the priests needed the temple frieze completed tonight.
So, Malakas worked. And he drank. Heavily.
The intricate battle scene turned into a screed mocking King Demetrius. By the time he fit the last word in, the priests saw what he was doing, screamed, and had him executed.