It was four in the morning and Douglas was sweating, the harsh Alaska sunlight blasting through the window of his efficiency cube.

“Hell!” Douglas said, the worst word he could say without risking a fine.

He sat up and fumbled for the air conditioner. His cube was such that he could reach almost everything, from door knob to toilet handle, while sitting in bed. Douglas turned all the dials on the AC unit and checked the plug seven times. He was about to kick it again when he saw that his alarm clock was blank.

“The power is out?” Douglas asked aloud. “Then why do I smell squid-waffles, huh?”

all you need in life is bread, grapes, wine, a wedge of Swiss cheese, a fork, a spoon, a man in high boots looking through a hand-held telescope, a man in a flying contraption who tries to steal the telescope.

When it showers the frog shall deign
to regale the world about his reign,

“The future lies in hydrogen, you see:
the age of airships! Science! Industry!

Billy Joe Shaver shot me twice.

Johnny Cash shot me once, but I’m pretty sure it was an accident.