This is (I hope) a funny version of Macbeth by Shakespeare, Acts 1 and 2 rewritten to make a short version of the play. I wrote this for a class, so I thought I'd post it for the hell of it. / (Reviews)
This is a small piece that I wrote for a contest on another site for Earth Day. Sorry to say there is nothing extremely erotic about this story but if you feel like a good laugh, then this might be the read for you. And yes, unfortunately it is true. Stuff like this you just can't make up.
This story was written as a parable explaining what it really means to follow the Path of the Do Warrior. Somehow, it got all mixed up with those metaphor thingies and humor. Caution: Existentialism ahead.
Since folks seemed to like “A Very Different History”, I dug back into my extremely old files and found this beauty……Please keep in mind that this was written a heck of a long time before I met “The Grammar Fairy”……Enjoy the read folks.
What began as a simple desire to watch birds from the office window became an arms race between a determined homeowner and a squirrel of supernatural persistence. Along the way: a sword fight, a severed tail, a lesson from Vlad the Impaler, Yankee ingenuity involving a flagpole and a box wrench, and the dawning realization that the squirrel may be winning. M v. R is a comic essay about stubbornness, resourcefulness, and the humbling experience of being outsmarted by something that weighs 18oz.
My parents are devoted Catholics, and religion has consistently been an integral part of my life. When I was eight years old, I went to confession for the first time, and Father O’Callahan told me that I would come to know God. This story tells how I came to know God by going to confession and, after turning eighteen, losing my virginity. It is told in a humorous manner. If you do not enjoy stories that mix religious humor and sexual circumstances, this story may be for you.
Based on the popular TV action show, XENA. This is a story which I wrote as a sequel to an actual episode on that series. And is focused solely on the misadventure of her traveling companion, Gabrielle.
WENDY WILDE wrote deliciously wicked novels of the sexual kind. Novels so hot, so prurient, they made her legions of fans. And haters. No subject matter was beyond her writer's fertile but kinky imagination. Her books made her rich and infamous and loved and hated. And now, dead and gone. Tag Bonewell, house dick at the Wellington Hotel, had never heard of her. Until the Wilde woman was found in suite 912 with three very neat, and accurately grouped, holes in her chest . . .