Musings

Primal stars were simple things Great pompous boring fiery kings. They ruled and died so long ago Blown to dust, kaput… but, OH! That pyrrhic dust, it whirled back so And formed the stars we love and know. Brightly stuffed with gold they glow Free-serving all this life below. And when our stars go BANG again They’ll shine anew somewhere… somewhen. I’ll be a glont’ar-bu-va’af then Or maybe just a kitty. Or any old thing…
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by Chris Riker Dr. LaRoche moved with purpose, using two of his six legs to pull the water pick with him as he crawled over gums and molars to reach and clean deep crevices in his patient’s mouth. He found no new cavities, but those would certainly appear if this man failed to do a better job of brushing and flossing. There! A putrid hunk of masticated ham tucked behind a bicuspid. Dr. LaRoche reached
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