I. Together, but separate, they stand in the room, staring across a gulf that is the (now absent) third, who is, of course, always there.

II. Holding hands, the couple walked to the endge of the lake and stripped off their clothes. She shivered, as she began wading into the water. "Are you sure that no one can see us here?" she asked. He looked to the trees around them, stretching along for miles. "Positive," he said, reaching down and taking something from his discarded jacket. She looked at him and smiled. "You," she said softly. "Yes," he said. There was a loud crack, and then a splash, and then quiet, as he began to put his clothes back on his body. Only the birds had noticed, taking flight and fleeing the lake.

III. I missss Peasssseblossssom, Cobweb, Moth, and of coursssse the Misssstressss. Even Robin, who loved to poke me and pull my earssss. Even Oberon, that bully. The world issssso much duller now, with only thesssse Mortalssss. Thissss one has lisssstened to me so far, he writessss well. It issss time for him to tell our sssstory. Sssso far, the eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not sssseen, man'ssss hand issss not able to tasssste, hissss tongue to conceive, nor hissss heart to report, what I will whissssper to thissss Will.

IV. Her mission accomplished and the radioactive creature defeated, it was time to head back to the base. Debra brushed the sand from her blouse, took a last, wistful look at the now putrefying horse, and stepped into the hot-air balloon.

V. So I was out with Joe the other day, hunting flies and ladybugs like usual, and he was like, "I don't feel so good, Frank." I looked at him, you know, real square, so that he was refracted in all my lenses. He stared scratching at himself with all eight of his legs, and then suddenly, he fell over and was writhing around. Seriously, it was painful to watch. It was even worse than when Bobby was squished by that newspaper. Suddenly, these little Larvae burst out of his stomach. Man, it sucks when you lose a drinking buddy, but that was seriously fucked up.

VI. Being a writer is hard, when no one likes your work. Being a writer is especially hard when your mother is an actress who is sleeping with an uninspired writer who is so much more popular than you. Being a writer is fucking awful when the man your mother is sleeping with seduces your girlfriend, knocks her up, dumps her, and then the baby dies, and *still* she won't come back to you. Being a writer is nearly impossible without thumbs. But at least I won the lottery. If that hadn't happened, I probably would have shot myself again.

VII. Art took the wad of Benjamins and tossed them out the window. Tina just gasped. "See, I told you I'd do it," he said. "You shouldn't have bet against me!" He stopped the car, and Tina got out. "Fucking bet," she mumbled, pulling down her underwear, squatting over the bucket, and beginning to pee.

VIII. Oh, fuck, this is some good shit. I mean, this is awesome shit. Grade A1. Well, at least I'll be able to afford some more. Foreigners don't tip, groups of women tip poorly, and dates tip well. But no one tips better than couples that hate each other's guts.

IX. Dudes, I know you're going to tell me that this is fucked up, but it's so fucked up that you've got to know. She'll fucking kill me. ... *Sniff, sniff, sob. Sob.*

X. LOUISE: Ya can't look at much, can you?
DYL: These visions of Johanna conquer my mind.
JOHANNA: I love you.
DYL: Johanna's not here. ... These visions of Johanna...
LOUISE: I love you.
DYL: How can I explain? It's so hard to go on.
JOHANNA: I love you.
They kiss.

XI. She came back from getting the coffee, and saw us there, her where she had been moments before. I smiled up at her. She put down the coffee and sat in a chair. I just kept smiling, holding one, looking at the other. The one in the chair started sobbing, as my smile continued to widen.

XII. An intern ran up to the Professor. "We've found something!" he shouted. The Professor practically began salivating. Finally, the dig was going somewhere. He rushed over to the pit, climbed down, and carefully dusted off the little box. He noted that the box had clearly been made in the last few decades - so what was it doing here? He opened it, and found a batch of burnt red hair, clearly not ancient. Not even old. Recent. And worse: a note next to the hair: "Rebecca." The Professor fainted.

XIII. "Oh shit," David thought. "Not that dream again!" That was David's first thought. His second thought was that he should probably both clutch and clench harder, as a big wave seemed to be coming his way. His third thought was that he absolutely hated Ramon, and that he would not allow this to happen ever again.