Lazy Kitty

Wandering Hedgehog

Andrea Coelho

Josh Hansen

Phil Harwell

English

There is a fungus in the Amazon that changes an ant’s entire personality—before it forces the creature to go rigid and then sends its fruiting body through the paralyzed ant’s head.

For Medea, lover of cats, skilled scientist and expert cheese taster, the obvious thing to do was to utilize this deadly fungus in her quest for world domination.

Medea weaponized the fungus and created an army of cats to carry and spread the infection by purring sweetly until the victim pet them — to their doom!

Meadea loved her vicious fungi more than anything…except maybe tea time. Her pinky stuck out as her cat army spread her lovely fungus to the victim and every other cat loving sucker out there… “purr away my sweets…make them rot like the mushrooms they are.” She bit a lil biscuit.

The biscuit was moldy but that was the way she liked it. It was her source… of what, Micah couldn't tell. He wanted to know but didn't have the courage. None of us did but Micah was the closest anyone got to the truth… yet even he had his weaknesses, and that was how she got him…

Of Cats and Shrooms

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Galen Gower

Joshua Plock

A Burns

M Greenleaf

Tyler Donnelly

Bob enjoyed his career drawing adult cartoons, until a talking fish changed his life.

Naturally he din’t believe this was happening to him. But it was undeniable a golden fish name Bilbo had requested his aid

The fish asked him to set him up on a date! He was bad enough at getting dates for himself, but he supposed there was no harm checking on Plenty of Fish.

Plenty of Fish was full of boring fish who couldn’t hold a conversation. The fish decided for quality over quantity and search relentlessly for someone with specific characteristics.

Alas, fish conversations tended to revolve around water temperature, seaweed, and laying giant piles of eggs, and so the search for a quality partner—thoughtful, intelligent, humorous—dragged on as the poor fish neared the end of their natural lifespans.

As they swam upstream, one chatty fish suggested they launch an app to replace this seasonal struggle. They’d call it Spawn. In a few fin-swipes right, a fish could make a match, fertilize or be fertilized, and get back to the sea before the wranglers block their swim lanes.

The idea was a hit.
“Brilliant!”
“Let’s do it!”
Everyone had a suggestion. Too many in fact to keep up with.
“Is anyone writing these down?”
The current grew stronger. Shadows loomed ahead. Dating apps would have to wait. 
The bears waited.

Their hunger grew with fearsome rumbles and terrific roaring, until finally it broke free. 
"No, it's not time yet! If you go now, you're going to scare them all away!" The fish, ignored in his attempts to convince them, resumed his solitude. "Oh well, it was a good idea."

Spawn

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Paige Phelan

Lilie A

Sean King

Jacob Sherman

Falling out of love is exactly how it seems. Life loses colour. You’ve lost a part of you. You’re in denial at first and try to pretend that the feelings are still there but no matter how hard you try hate shadows and grows stronger by the day. You wonder how this has happened.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but you have only found a bitter hole where it once resided.

I’m glad you’re gone, and good riddance to you. My only regret is that I didn’t get to kick you out myself.

She slammed the door. He startled and took a step back, his foot landing on the tail of a large cat. As the cat cried out and clawed at his leg, he lost his balance and fell backwards. his head hit the cement stairs with a resounding crack. The cat fled as the blood spread across

the floor, a river of red creeping down the steps. She opened the door, seeing this for herself. “Oh no, what have I done?” she cried, as she looked down at the unassuming cat. “I did this for you, Martha,” it meowed, as it climbed down the bloodied steps, never to be seen again.

What is Love?

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James Benson

Gretchen Pedersen

Fortuneteller Carter Cano did not foresee finding a dead body.

As a successful fortune teller, there were hardly any surprises in his life. Now, Carter has to deal not only with the sudden death of his sweet fiancée but also with the police considering him the prime suspect of the murder.

“Damn these cards! Why did I have to do my own tarot reading!” Carter shouted. “The professor always warned me about self-prophecy!” Distraught, Carter begrudgingly shuffled down the dimly-lit sidewalk towards his home.

The image of the knight on horseback was still fresh in his mind. Death could strike from anywhere now, even from the top of buildings looming over him. Carter kept his eyes peeled for a tall hooded figure wielding a scythe.

Then, Carter saw it: a tall hooded figure wielding a scythe, looming over him. Carter stilled. What, no, this couldn’t possibly be happening, he thought. Oh, no way——oh god please no why, his mind spiraled. Overwhelmed, Carter groaned and started to cry.

Why had Death come for him? He’d stumbled upon its last quarry by pure chance, and the tarot cards suggested a future of love and prosperity. New experiences. And ones he would’t miss. He turned to run, as if his life depended on it.

But Death grabbed him by the collar, as he took off his hood, revealing a skull. “Come with me,” it whispered, extending its bony hand towards him. “Why?” “I… don’t know. It’s just that I’ve been having feelings for you lately. It sure gets lonely wandering about, all by myself.”

Misfortune

Nancy doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. Why would she? Every refusal she’s ever encountered in life could be overturned by persuasion, flattery, or distribution of a very small fragment of her family’s money.

But after the aliens arrived, Nancy could no longer count on flattery, bribery, or persuasion to get her way.

She'd have to rely on her old network and her abilities as the world's deadliest clown assassin. She knew the shoes still fit, but she hadn't put on the jumpsuit in years.

She reached deep into the back of her closet, beyond her jet-powered unicycle and rainbow wig collection, and found the box labeled “poison-squirting lapel flowers.”

“Finally!” she shouted. “My collection of vintage Joker lapel flowers will be of great use against the alien invaders.” She took the box of lapel flowers and began to fill the reservoirs with salt water.

Despite her thirst she knew drinking this water was a death sentence. Besides right now it was more useful as a weapon. Like alligators, these aliens could not stand saltwater.
“Time to salinity-ize these alien chowder heads,” she said with a sense of triumph.

She whipped her hair over her shoulder and pulled out her supersonic, ultra high speed water submachine gun. These alligators weren’t ready for what she had planned for them. But they were about to bear witness to it anyway.

The hydro rifle hummed and vibrated. A halo of mist ringed the end of the barrel. Screams followed. 
Water was not their only weakness. Salt amplified the effect. The result was deadly. 
It was over in a matter of seconds. She had stopped them. This time.

Wandering Hedgehog
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