Ah, Mars. The red planet. A planet of extremes. During the day, it's scorchingly hot. At night, it's so cold that carbon dioxide freezes into blocks on the ground. In between, the sublimation of the carbon dioxide causes blasting winds, whipping sand everywhere, scouring the landscape. These are all conditions that explorers will have to account for should they venture to Mars. We already have the technology to compensate for many discomforts and dangers. There's really any number of options. But first, we need to get there.

When the man gets you down, sometime you just have to pick yourself back up. This happened to me today, I was just minding my own business when my 'brother' came along and told me it was time to 'take a nap,' if you know what I mean. Obviously, I was not too happy about this, and decided my best route was to make a run for it. I took a slow count to three and sprung up, diving between his legs, hoping to confuse him. He didn't buy the ploy and grabbed me.

Now here I lay, waiting for my time to be up. I'm seven, shouldn't I be done with naptime by now?

When the man gets you down, sometimes you just have to pick yourself back up. This happened to me today, I was just minding my own business when my 'brother' came along and told me it was time to 'take a nap,' if you know what I mean. Obviously, I was not too happy about this, and decided my best route was to make a run for it. I took a slow count to three and sprung up, diving between his legs, hoping to confuse him. He didn't buy the ploy and grabbed me.

Now here I lay, waiting for my time to be up. But I'm ready to pick myself back up, when I turn seven, I'll finally be free of the man.

Many believe the Great Dragon was the source of all life and guardian of the universe. The see the milky way as his great, flowing body, floating above the world as a protector. They say he breathed forth the fireball that is the sun, that the oceans themselves are made of the salty tears that poured forth from his eyes when he created the world. Believers in the Great Dragon say that some day he'll return to Earth and swallow it, as he who creates also must destroy. Others say the Great Dragon's a myth.

There once was a lonely little boy who had a habit of running into the village square yelling "WOLF! WOLF!" Initially, the villagers were very upset by this racket and would run quickly to the boy's aid, but when it turned out there was repeatedly nothing wrong, they soon lost interest. The boy's story might have a more interesting ending, if wolves existed.

A story written, conflict never resolved.

"Happy Thanksgiving everyone!"

"Happy Thanksgiving!"

The entire family was here today, and most of them were pleased to be gathered to share a day together. Aunt Susan wasn't too pleased, but she never was. This year, there was something terribly wrong with the seating arrangement for the upcoming meal. Fortunately, the rest of the family had learned to live with (and often ignore) her, and so the holiday was only slightly dampened by her complaints. Everyone did their part in preparation of the feast, and it was anticipated by all, even Aunt Susan. When the time came, they sat down, joined in prayer, and thoroughly enjoyed a delicious meal.

He feared he was going insane. Day after day, his thoughts seemed to be more disjointed and panicked. Slowly, his body followed the same trend. He would shake uncontrollably and sometimes weep for no apparent reason. Even in his happiest moments, he felt like there was something inside him that was under constant tension, ready to snap. He thought about seeing a doctor, but he was afraid his fears would be confirmed. He saw himself getting worse and worse until finally something terrible happened. He resolved to get some help.

It turned out it was all in his mind.

At last! They'd finally escaped from the cave of ancient evil, there was nothing to keep them from delivering the sacred chalice to the goddess of the Eranhimar. Finally justice would be done. Finally the wrongs of the past would be repaid. They raced across the land, their feet eating up the distance to their destination, to the end of the suffering.

When they delivered the chalice, they realized they'd had everything wrong.

A man at a restaurant spilled the salt. The salt didn't just leak out, the entire top of the shaker came off, making a mound of salt in the middle of the table.

"Aww, that's no good. Here, I'll help you clean it up," said his fellow eater.

"No, that's all right, they'll take care of it once we're done."

With that, he took a pinch of salt from the mound and sprinkled it on his food.

There was once a man that made a habit of walking on his hands. He was sort of a silly fellow, he wore a grey three-piece suit and top hat with a broad white stripe around the circumference. He liked to sing cheerful songs as he walked to work on his gloved hands. Whenever anyone asked about his odd hobby, he'd simply reply, "Why do you only walk on your feet, doesn't that get boring?" and walk on.

No one really understood this fellow.

On the day the asteroid hit the Earth and killed everyone, an couple of many years watched the slowly growing fireball in the sky.

“How about one last time, for old time’s sake?”

“No, that’s alright.”

And that’s what we call shut down.

“Alright class, who can tell me one of the five W’s or the one H?”

“Who?” “What?” “Where?” “When?” “Why?”

“Very good, now what’s the one H, Johnny?”

“When?”

“Not quite, give it another try – we’re looking for the one H.”

“Hwhen?”
“Can you tell us Suzie?”

“How?”

“Yes, good job. Now, who can tell me the one M?”

“You never taught us that one!”

“Oh, didn’t I? The M stands for manual labor. That’s what children like Johnny do when they grow up if they don’t pay attention in school.”

They sloshed through the wide underground drainage pipe. As usual, the entire team was there: Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello, Raphael, and Bobby M. Shredder was at it once again, but the turtles and Bobby M were ready to save the day. Armed with sword, nunchaku, stick, sai, and pure enthusiasm, they were a formidable posse. Shredder was hiding somewhere in these tunnels, but the thick concrete and dirt between the turns blocked the signal from their tracking device, so they were going to have to find him by wandering around and listening very hard with their keen turtle and Bobby M hearing.

“So, where do you think he is?” whispered an excited Bobby M.

“Hush,” breathed Donatello.

“Ok.”

They searched the tunnels all night, back and forth, up and down, but they didn’t find anything, not even a hint. Eventually they got tired and went back to their apartment and went to bed. All but Bobby M, he went to his own home.

He walked through the forest, exploring the territory he appeared to be stuck in. He’s seen many a strange sight in this mystical wood, and expects to see many more. Some of his previous encounters had been extremely dangerous, so he moves with caution. The branches above him try to sweep around and grab him, but he quickly ducks and runs away a short distance. A boy nearby struggled to cut wood with a rusty ax bigger than he was.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Thank you very much, yes. Take the ax for a few minutes and give me a chance to rest, that’s all I really need, is a little rest.”

He took the ax and began to chop wood.

“Ha! I tricked you!” shouted the boy, “You’ll never be able to stop chopping wood until someone else takes the ax from you.”

The man was shocked initially, but he settled into the task, chopping wood and making a neat pile. He vaguely wondered where the wood was coming from, but didn’t worry about it too much, as the manual labor was relaxing and he could be mostly free from thought. Eventually he got tired, set down the ax, and continued on his journey.

“Can we rent a game this weekend?” asked a little boy.

“Not this weekend,” replied his mother – she had other things to take care of.