Before I Could Tweet

Back in the pre-Twitter era, there was a site called Espresso Stories that prepared a lucky few for a world of 140 characters or less by encouraging them to write stories in 25 words or less. I was one of them.

What follows is an archive of 127 of my contributions to that collection from 2003 to 2008, mostly before I discovered the majesty and wonder of the all-powerful tweet.
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The author: A well-caffeinated carbon-based biped based out of Bismarck, North Dakota. Sometimes known as Clay Hove, or historically as Clayton T. Claymore. Don’t ask.
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Note: As of this post, you can still find the Espresso Stories site here.
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‘Revelations 2.0’ by Clayton Hove

And when he had opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven as they stared at the burnt Hot Pocket Panini of the Apocalypse.

8 Nov 2008.
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‘Centipede Vexipede‘ by Clayton Hove

It bothered Greg that even though he only needed 99 shoes after his altercation with the beetle, that they still made him buy 100.

11 Jun 2008.
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‘Dawn of the Ted’ by Clayton Hove

Her groaning had him confident that he was master of the bedroom.
That morning, he found out that he went home with a zombie.

18 Oct 2007.
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‘Follow your nose, err… heart.’ by Clayton Hove

She knew from the start that he was fond of breakfast cereal. Regardless, legally changing his name to Froot Loops irreversibly tainted their relationship.

4 Jan 2007.
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‘The Maltese Falcon II’ by Clayton Hove

Of all the Applebee’s in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.

27 Dec 2006.
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‘Rejected Letter To The Penthouse Forum’ by Clayton Hove

Dear Penthouse, I never thought it would happen to me, and I was right.

Dammit.

Sincerely,
Glen

26 Mar 2005.
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‘The Price Of Sweetness’ by Clayton Hove

Once over the initial shock of her sudden tentacles, Angela resumed her career as a Splenda spokeswoman to mixed reviews.

26 Mar 2005.
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‘Noah’s Lament’ by Clayton Hove

Deliberately left out of the Bible, the real reason why unicorns were not allowed on the ark was the simple fact that they were polygamists.

26 Mar 2005.
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‘”Wendy’s Is Better Than Pheromones”‘ by Clayton Hove

It seemed like a good idea at the time – buying condoms at the dollar store so that he could “biggie size” his date’s meal…

26 Mar 2005.
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‘Nothing Runs Like A Groom’ by Clayton Hove

Wary of his bald spot, Gary desperately tried to convince his fiancée why he should wear his John Deere cap during the ceremony.

26 Mar 2005.
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‘Lost in the Ethel’ by Clayton Hove

She was gorgeous. Brilliant. Funny. An insatiable animal in the sack.

But that name. Good God in heaven… that atrocious, horrible name.

28 May 2004.
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‘Fonz Fraud’ by Clayton Hove

As his television blinked out once again, he rose, approached, and rapped its side with his fist.

And again. And again.

Henry Winkler must die.

28 May 2004.
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‘Dried Up’ by Clayton Hove

Their love life was fantastic.
They could talk for hours and hours.
He used the good towel.
It was over.

28 May 2004.
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‘The near death of Roy in a 2004 Ford Focus’ by Clayton Hove

As the airbag deployed and he was knocked into unconsciousness, the last three minutes of his life flashed before him. He felt cheated somehow.

28 May 2004.
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‘4:30pm’ by Clayton Hove

He pressed his pallid hands against the glass, staring down at the ant-like people enjoying the warm, sunny day. He wished. He wished. He wished.

28 May 2004.
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’57 Varieties of Immortality’ by Clayton Hove

Instead of panicking, the people in the restaurant just stared as she attacked the bottle of ketchup. It was tough being a vegan vampire.

13 May 2004.
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‘Black Widow’ by Clayton Hove

People started to get suspicious when her fifth husband also died of food poisoning, but in truth, she was just a lousy cook.

13 May 2004.
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‘Turning Point’ by Clayton Hove

Sure, the first time he had to bail out his wife, it was kind of exciting. But now, it was starting to get expensive.

13 May 2004.
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‘Time Machine 2.0’ by Clayton Hove

For the initial trial, her web-based time displacement portal worked like a charm, and to much acclaim.

Unfortunately, she was now stuck in 1024AD.

7 May 2004.
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‘Coffee Mugged’ by Clayton Hove

It was her favorite brown office beverage mug.
Cobalt blue, with a pithy saying.
Her boss got to it first.
The day was ruined.

6 May 2004.
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‘Canine Nightmare’ by Clayton Hove

Bowser was enjoying his walksies when he nosed up to an oak tree.

Sniff.

His arch-nemesis, Tinkles, was here!

Lift. Phffffffft.

Shit! Out of urine!

6 May 2004.
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‘Improvisational First Aid’ by Clayton Hove

He looked at his stapler.
He looked at his arm.
He looked at his stapler.
He looked at his arm.
He’d need more staples.

6 May 2004.
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‘Thoughts From An Unstable Tree’ by Clayton Hove

Cloudy again. Damn squirrels. Great… more bird shit. Bugs! Bugs! Bugs! Bugs! Get them off! Get them off! Get them off! Aughhhhh! I can’t move!

6 May 2004.
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‘The New Guy’ by Clayton Hove

She was on the rebound. He didn’t care. They entered her bedroom. She stepped out of her dress. He screamed, soiled himself and fled.

6 May 2004.
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‘Anger Management’ by Clayton Hove

About twenty minutes into the company president’s furious rant, an important artery popped somewhere deep inside his head. It didn’t change a thing.

6 May 2004.
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‘Gurgle’ by Clayton Hove

Amber woke up early, thanks to a strange noise emanating from her apartment’s bathroom toilet. She was about to meet her new pet.

6 May 2004.
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‘A Rip in the Fabric’ by Clayton Hove

In her haste, she set the time machine for five seconds into the future.

Not knowing she traveled successfully, she furiously destroyed the mechanism.

11 Nov 2003.
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‘Pentimento 2063’ by Clayton Hove

Now approaching eighty, Keith hobbled into the pawn shop and traded his walker for a skateboard.

They found his body on the half pipe, smiling.

11 Nov 2003.
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A Spoonful of Cougar’ by Clayton Hove

Usually, Jasmine was as sweet as could be, so long as you kept her away from the absinthe.

Roger found out the hard way.

11 Nov 2003.
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‘Capricorn vs. Callipygian’ by Clayton Hove

The petting zoo celebrity fundraiser went flawlessly.

That is, until J. Lo bent over to tie her shoe in full view of the billy goat.

11 Nov 2003.
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‘The Big Switch, Victorian-style’ by Clayton Hove

His father’s pocket watch ticked no more, broken on the floor.

Little Abraham cried in the back yard, his backside scarred.

11 Nov 2003.
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‘The White Trash Reality Television Actors Guild’ by Clayton Hove

Alerted by the FOX camera crew that the police were coming, Joe Bob stood defiantly on his trailer’s porch, half naked and ready to run.

11 Nov 2003.
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‘Centrifugal Obligation’ by Clayton Hove

Fan Blade #3 took his job seriously and didn’t want to let his coworkers down, but secretly, all the repetitive work made him nauseous.

11 Nov 2003.
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‘Apartment Life 1’ by Clayton Hove

As yet another gunfight erupted next door, Mary fell to the floor. Clutching her bleeding arm, she distracted herself by musing about her security deposit.

9 Nov 2003.
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‘Apartment Life 2’ by Clayton Hove

As Mary took her garbage out to the rotting alley dumpster, she carefully avoided stepping on any of the strewn needles.

“Damn diabetics,” she murmured.

9 Nov 2003.
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‘Apartment Life 3’ by Clayton Hove

Watching her bathtub fill with rusty, tepid water, Mary breathed a sigh of relief. The stench of rotting eggs was much more mild today.

9 Nov 2003.
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‘Apartment Life 4’ by Clayton Hove

According to the scale, she was now down to 109 pounds.

Living in a neighborhood where no pizza place would deliver did have its benefits.

9 Nov 2003.
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‘Preschool Chamomile Bear Brains’ by Clayton Hove

Never seeing a plastic honey bear before, she found it adorable.

Later, when a teacher used it for her tea, Brianna screamed in holy terror.

6 Nov 2003.
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‘Monster Cheesemaking School’ by Clayton Hove

After years of intensive study, Chucky the Chupacabra excelled at feta and chevre, but he just couldn’t get the hang of curdling blood.

6 Nov 2003.
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‘The Dangers of Smoking’ by Clayton Hove

Oozing charm, sophistication and wit, the hunk had every girl at the table entranced and doe-eyed. Then he lit the wrong end of his cigarette.

5 Nov 2003.
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‘The Hollywood Axe’ by Clayton Hove

Thinking that Zombie #5 was just staying in character after the cut, they watched him stagger around, bleeding and moaning, then fall to the ground.

5 Nov 2003.
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‘A North Dakota Church Service’ by Clayton Hove

As Pastor Herbert’s sermon reached its apex, he gently cued his congregation. They then inhaled from their helium balloons and raised their voices to heaven.

4 Nov 2003.
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‘The Death of Brad the Bumbling Boxelder Bug’ by Clayton Hove

Creeping across the cottage cheese ceiling, Brad’s fifth leg tripped.

Too shocked to fly, he fell into the open mouth of the sleeping human below.

24 Oct 2003.
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‘Delusions of Deception’ by Clayton Hove

He secretly prided himself on his ability to lie, exaggerate and twist the truth without anyone suspecting a thing.

Unfortunately, nobody trusted him.

24 Oct 2003.
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‘Triumph of Man’ by Clayton Hove

After years of vigorous training, Jeb Schimke became the first man to successfully record a fart while standing on the summit of Mount Everest.

24 Oct 2003.
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‘Thumbs’ by Clayton Hove

For the third time in a week, Jim failed his test of coordination and problem solving.

Reluctantly, Sylvia resorted to wearing a Velcro bra.

24 Oct 2003.
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‘Budget Bionics’ by Clayton Hove

Thanks to modern medicine and technological advances, Tony was able to return to a normal life.

That is, until his cybernetic belly button linted out.

24 Oct 2003.
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‘A Hard Lesson’ by Clayton Hove

Although the pharmaceutical company’s next generation anti-impotency drug tested flawlessly in the clinical trials, the penis-shaped pills proved to be a disaster in the marketplace.

24 Oct 2003.
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‘The Secret Language of the Coors Light Twins’ by Clayton Hove

Flibiger hin.

Urgala mort wid!

Hahahaha.

…es maga por por!

Hahahaha.

Hahahaha.

Oooohh.. chexin fev hunka!

Bibby hunka bunbun!

Menage?

Sure!

22 Oct 2003.
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Coven Mitt’ by Clayton Hove

Her first time at the Salem Cook-off, Angelina wondered if anyone would notice that she secretly replaced eye of newt with paprika in her stromboli.

22 Oct 2003.
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‘Balance’ by Clayton Hove

He regretted losing his pinkie in the meat grinder.

Even more, he regretted sticking in his other pinkie, but Hell – Now they matched.

22 Oct 2003.
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‘Soul Mate’ by Clayton Hove

After the bar closed, they walked home hand in hand.

He looked at her lovingly. Her eyes. Her smile. Her horns glistening in the moonlight.

22 Oct 2003.
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‘The Scottish Matador’ by Clayton Hove

It was his first time in Madrid, but Connor was filled with bravado.

Unfortunately, he chose a bad day to wear his red velvet sporran.

21 Oct 2003.
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‘Chat Room Excerpt, 1998’ by Clayton Hove

07Praguemat: Kafka best exposed the evils of bureaucratic labyrinths.

Muriel12: Yes, but Orwell reached a wider audience.

[entering] BigDicky203: Any horny chicks here?

21 Oct 2003.
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‘Superherodom’ by Clayton Hove

After saving another busload of handicapped tykes from certain doom, Captain Bulge overheard the rescue squad sniggering.

Damn. Put the tights on backwards again.

21 Oct 2003.
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‘Das Boot und der Eisberg’ by Clayton Hove

Somewhere in the Atlantic, drifting aimlessly in the lifeboat, the surviving crew quickly wasted away.

Their only provision – a hastily grabbed barrel of sauerkraut.

14 Oct 2003.
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‘Autumn Defied’ by Clayton Hove

Refusing to admit that summer was over, Cedrid spent every evening outside, carefully gluing the fallen leaves back on to the trees.

14 Oct 2003.
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‘Cable of the Gods’ by Clayton Hove

Bored, Dale discovered a hitherto neglected button on the universal remote control.

After much careful consideration, he gingerly pressed it.

…..

“Hmmm,” she thought. “Nothing.”

14 Oct 2003.
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‘Karma’ by Clayton Hove

Eunice bobbed around in the warm, sudsy water with a smile upon her face.

Being reincarnated as a rubber ducky wasn’t so bad after all.

14 Oct 2003.
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‘Faded Star’ by Clayton Hove

With prerecorded pomp, she cut the ribbon to the new suburban mini-mall.

She then took the giant scissors and stabbed herself in the heart.

14 Oct 2003.
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‘The Flower of Babel’ by Clayton Hove

As the bloom reached into the heavens, it was destroyed by Almighty lightning.

From that moment on, plants could no longer talk to each other.

14 Oct 2003.
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‘Horror in the Woods’ by Clayton Hove

Hidden in the bushes, crouching out of sight, the beastly form grunted softly as the coed campers scampered by.

He’d kill for some toilet paper.

5 Oct 2003.
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‘The Plunge’ by Clayton Hove

The body of Kahuna Bobo, the world champion cliff diver, lay broken. Twisted. Beyond recognition.

The Devil’s Tower was a bad choice of venues.

5 Oct 2003.
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‘Intergalactic Relations’ by Clayton Hove

True, she was a gelatinous alien, forty feet long with a hoary skin, lactating tentacles and several barbed penises, but Captain Buckrod was in love.

5 Oct 2003.
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‘Bar Fight’ by Clayton Hove

Outnumbered and intoxicated, Pat backed up and slammed the base of his beer against the edge of the bar.

KRINK!

Damn. Shoulda gotten a bottle.

5 Oct 2003.
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‘Swedish Ninja Smorgasbord’ by Clayton Hove

After much trial and error, Ragnar discovered that a quick stabbing motion with a singular chopstick was a much more efficient way to eat meatballs.

2 Oct 2003.
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‘Descent’ by Clayton Hove

His space capsule bobbing in the ocean, Roger groped in the dark for a towel.

During reentry, he had spilled Tang all over his suit.

2 Oct 2003.
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‘Redemption’ by Clayton Hove

Reverend Bob, ending his fiery sermon, raised his hands to the sky, praised “Hallelujah!” and asked the congregation to bring in their empties for collection.

2 Oct 2003.
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‘Another Fuzzy Night on the Prowl’ by Clayton Hove

Slowly, seductively, one by one, the blouse buttons were worked open by his lazy yet eager fingers, gradually revealing silken tufts of sandy chest hair.

30 Sep 2003.
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‘Technology Mistress’ by Clayton Hove

Mad with power, Andrea cackled like a nefarious hyena. She then leaned over the counter and adjusted the power setting on the 4-slot toaster.

24 Sep 2003.
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‘A Bone Apart’ by Clayton Hove

Having traded his humanity for wealth and power, his egomania grew over the years.

Still, they wouldn’t let him go on the big rides.

24 Sep 2003.
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‘Panic’ by Clayton Hove

Tearing from the pasture, panicked and exhausted, Earl slammed the farmhouse door behind him. Between him and the hungry reptilian demonoid – a rusty screen.

24 Sep 2003.
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‘No Way Out’ by Clayton Hove

Tired of being ridiculed and the butt of every joke, Frank locked himself in the bathroom, swallowed the entire bottle of placebos, and waited.

24 Sep 2003.
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‘True Love, Vegas-Style’ by Clayton Hove

He gently trailed his hand down her back as he watched a loving smile form on her face.

It was the best $200 ever spent.

23 Sep 2003.
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‘Free Minutes’ by Clayton Hove

After five years of yakking and yakking and yakking on her cell phone, Jennifer discovered she could heat frozen burritos with her mind.

22 Sep 2003.
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‘Spinster’ by Clayton Hove

She power walked to the grocer every morning. The trip back home was slower, dragging huge bags of food and litter for her 132 cats.

22 Sep 2003.
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‘Nearly’ by Clayton Hove

His friends found Harvey to be very agreeable recently. Little known to them, this was only because he was trying to master his new trifocals.

22 Sep 2003.
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‘Be you.’ by Clayton Hove

“I am unique,” cried Louie. “I am different!”

Then he flew off into the night sky to join the other like-minded locusts in the swarm.

17 Sep 2003.
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‘Infatuation’ by Clayton Hove

He felt nauseous.
He felt short of breath.
He felt cold. Sweaty.
He felt his heart beat madly in his chest.

He almost said hello.

17 Sep 2003.
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‘Missing You’ by Clayton Hove

Randy stared at the empty chair by the dining room table where his beloved wife used to sit.

Upstairs, he finally heard the toilet flush.

17 Sep 2003.
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‘Corporate Cultured’ by Clayton Hove

He knew 17 ways to knot a necktie.

He knew 43 ways to charm.

He knew 86 ways to stab a coworker in the back.

17 Sep 2003.
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‘Wedding Night’ by Clayton Hove

The newlyweds’ bodies were intertwined like two matching pieces of Velcro in a bottle of Wesson oil.

“Gross,” thought the groom.

“Gross,” thought the bride.

16 Sep 2003.
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‘Parasite City’ by Clayton Hove

All along the boardwalk, young hipsters would compare to see whose ticks were more engorged or who had the largest infestation of lice.

16 Sep 2003.
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‘Bork.’ by Clayton Hove

Nearly 80 years after the first Volvo was built, the Swedish engineers looked forward to the worldwide triumph of their latest automobile – the Panis.

15 Sep 2003.
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‘Fancy Eatin’’ by Clayton Hove

Cocklebur Cody, bowlegged, mean, dusty and lean as a weasel, jangled into the five star restaurant.

Later, after shooting the maitre d’, he ordered chili.

15 Sep 2003.
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‘Geronimo’ by Clayton Hove

Explosively, the skyjumper crashed through the ceiling of the suburban split-level ranch. Grabbing his forgotten backpack in the kitchen, he ran out the door.

15 Sep 2003.
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‘Metamorphosis’ by Clayton Hove

Upon awaking, I discovered that I was a fool for taunting the gnarled, old hag.

Looking back at me in the mirror was… an executive.

15 Sep 2003.
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‘Creamed’ by Clayton Hove

Allyson was dangerously lactose intolerant, but that didn’t stop her from enjoying life.

That is, until she tried her first latte and promptly exploded.

10 Sep 2003.
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‘Dust in the Wind’ by Clayton Hove

It took many years of practice plus the conquering of his alimentary canal, but Grandpa finally proved them right by blowing smoke out his ass.

10 Sep 2003.
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‘The Cursed Dagger of Wusthofalon’ by Clayton Hove

Forged in hellfire by demons of Helkel’s Deep and infused with terrible, unspeakable powers, the blade was used primarily for cutting fresh fruit and veggies.

9 Sep 2003.
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‘Pitch Blackout’ by Clayton Hove

Soon after waking from his coma, the account executive learned that he had used “utilize” in his sales pitch one too many times.

9 Sep 2003.
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‘Like A Rolling Stone’ by Clayton Hove

Almost as if by predestination, the bryologist headed north to continue her research.

9 Sep 2003.
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‘Instinct’ by Clayton Hove

With the scorpion piggybacking across the stream, the marshmallow suddenly burst into flame.

“It’s my nature,” said the marshmallow. “It’s what I do.”

9 Sep 2003.
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‘Reaction’ by Clayton Hove

Sally hated the world. Despised everyone. Wished them all dead. Diseased. Impaled. Dead. Dead. Dead.

She was wearing new shoes, and nobody noticed.

9 Sep 2003.
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‘Darwin’s HMS Beagle Diary’ by Clayton Hove

8th of October, 1835

All these damned birds look alike to me.

– Chuck

9 Sep 2003.
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‘Flight of the Toenail’ by Clayton Hove

The steely jaws snapped shut, hurling the chip high into the air.

Landing behind the futon, it thought, “Free at last! Free at last!”

8 Sep 2003.
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‘Smooth Operator’ by Clayton Hove

His hair? Slicked back.
His shirt? Crisply pressed.
His medallions? Shiny and inviting.
His shoes? Buffed.
His pants? Tight as Hell.
His fly? Wide open.

8 Sep 2003.
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‘Optimism’ by Clayton Hove

The blind prospector wandered into town every Saturday afternoon. A toothless grin splayed across his face. His mule laden with gravel.

8 Sep 2003.
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‘Prehistoric Renaissance Man’ by Clayton Hove

He discovered fire. He domesticated the dog. He invented the wheel. He perfected the spear.

But still, Oop the Wise couldn’t get himself laid.

8 Sep 2003.
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‘Too Soon’ by Clayton Hove

Sitting before the harpsichord, the castle’s vast hall filled to capacity with anxious socialites and dignitaries, young Johann quietly wet himself.

8 Sep 2003.
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‘Emotional Impact’ by Clayton Hove

As the team finished collecting the strewn pieces of flesh and sinew, Detective Pintello wrote down their conclusion.

The victim literally flew into a rage.

8 Sep 2003.
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‘Stubbed in the Dark’ by Clayton Hove

It was time to dance. It was time to swear.

Dance and swear he did.

7 Sep 2003.
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‘Concaveman’ by Clayton Hove

Somehow, after he stole that silver spoon, his perspective of the cruel world was turned upside down.

7 Sep 2003.
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‘Kim Akimbo’ by Clayton Hove

Now that elbows were considered the sexiest part of the human body, the rebellious young guttersnipe wished she’d never pierced her funny bones.

5 Sep 2003.
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‘Leprechaunniption‘ by Clayton Hove

Lucky had cherished his long and animated career, but when the marketing goons added red balloons… RED BALLOONS!?… well, that was the final straw.

5 Sep 2003.
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‘The Greatest Show’ by Clayton Hove

He dressed atrociously, smelled of dung and had a disturbingly ruddy nose, but there was something about his shoes that intrigued Michelle.

5 Sep 2003.
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‘Revised History Channel’ by Clayton Hove

The kettle whistled impatiently, soon building to a shrill shriek of fury.

Outside, Earl Grey slept, his bottle of Scotch emptying out on the cobblestone.

5 Sep 2003.
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‘Big Sell In The Conference Room’ by Clayton Hove

Startled, everyone in the smokey room watched as he pulled his sword out of the shattered, sparking projector. It was the best PowerPoint presentation ever.

5 Sep 2003.
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‘Twist of the Genie’ by Clayton Hove

Flitting about the uptown district thanks to his newly acquired gossamer
wings, Raul contemplated the effect that his wish would have upon his steely machismo.

4 Sep 2003.
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‘Flirtation 101’ by Clayton Hove

Their eyes met from across the room. She smiled coyly. He grinned. She turned away, flipping her hair. Soon, a beer bottle hit her head.

4 Sep 2003.
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‘Roommate From Hell’ by Clayton Hove

Now rich beyond belief, he drove away cackling. When he sealed the deal, selling his blackened soul to the devil, he used his roommate’s name.

4 Sep 2003.
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‘Man Bag’ by Clayton Hove

Slowly he teased down the zipper, reached into the cavernous gap and carefully extracted his most prized possession. “Someday I’ll get real luggage,” he thought.

4 Sep 2003.
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‘Sugar Daddy’ by Clayton Hove

Jasmine playfully tousled his hair while he drove to the discotheque, the Grecian Formula squeaking between her nimble fingers as she fought back a grimace.

3 Sep 2003.
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‘Arachneddy Roosevelt’ by Clayton Hove

Most of the saloon folk were downright congenial, but being called “Ol’ Sixteen Eyes” by that ornery sum’bitch in the corner really chapped his hide.

3 Sep 2003.
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‘standards du jour’ by Clayton Hove

She found him vile. Repugnant. A spoiled and disgusting mass of ignorance and conceit.

“Hmm…,” she thought. “I bet he’s good in the sack.”

1 Sep 2003.
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‘Moby Doc’ by Clayton Hove

“Does it hurt when I do this?”

“Yaarrrrggggh.”

“How about this?”

“Arrrrgghh.”

“And here?”

“Avast!”

“Hmm. I think we’ll have to amputate.”

“That blows.”

1 Sep 2003.
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‘Damn Dirty Apes’ by Clayton Hove

Lucy looked around her in disgust. There wasn’t a single Australopithecus dude in her group that had a nice ass.

“Someday,” she thought. “Someday.”

22 Aug 2003.
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‘The Audition’ by Clayton Hove

As the icy rain pelted her slouched body, Mische, dejected, rejected, slowly walked down Juilliard’s slippery front steps, dragging her slide bassoon behind her.

21 Aug 2003.
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‘Crust.’ by Clayton Hove

Years later, after countless tragedies, Dr. Kingsler finally discovered the secret — Pet lobsters were much cuddlier after you stapled carpet swatches to their shells.

21 Aug 2003.
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‘Voodoo’ by Clayton Hove

The needle pierced through the burlap doll.

Next door, Sylvia clutched her heart and fell to the floor thinking, “Now how did that get out?”

20 Aug 2003.
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‘So Deep’ by Clayton Hove

As the glinting surface of the water slowly pulled away from his flailing arms, Hank mentally kicked himself for never learning to float.

20 Aug 2003.
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‘Tough’ by Clayton Hove

The rap star, wide awake in bed, couldn’t help but wonder if rhyming “dirty death row” with “pretty rainbow” was a wise career move.

20 Aug 2003.
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‘Tipped Off’ by Clayton Hove

Looking over the repeatedly impaled head of the victim, Detective Aduki turned to her partner and grumbled, “They oughta put warnings on them Q-Tip boxes.”

19 Aug 2003.
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‘Opportunity’ by Clayton Hove

Her hair disheveled and blouse awkwardy buttoned, she quietly stumbled out of his apartment thinking, “These credit cards should work for a few hours.”

19 Aug 2003.
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‘Getting old.’ by Clayton Hove

Tap. Drip. Tap tap. Drip drip drip. Tap tap tap. Drip. Tap tap. Drizzle. Drip. Tap. Drip. Tap. Drip. Tap. Drip. Tap. Drip.

19 Aug 2003.
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‘Spent.’ by Clayton Hove

The discarded gun clattered up against the alley wall. Its barrel still smoking. Its chamber now empty. Nearby, a garbage can continued to rust.

19 Aug 2003.
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‘Flick.’ by Clayton Hove

Sharing a post-coital cigarette, she lazily turned to him and murmured, “My belly button is not an ashtray.”

Alas, he was already asleep.

19 Aug 2003.
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