Author - Chris Weagel

Each night I press record on the VCR and tape six hours of the Home Shopping Channel. In the morning, I rewind the tape and set it up for the next night. I never watch the recording. Every night and every day, the cycle continues. If I fail, the great volcano will ruin our people.

I wish to produce an illustrated guide to constructing, maintaining and defending hiding spots. I'll show how to build them on your own property, in public spaces, and on boats and inside heavy machinery. Questions addressed will include: How many blankets are too many? (Answer: You can never have too many blankets) and Will holding your breath prevent discovery/capture? (No, kicking blindly into the air works best).
An appendix will cover repeated jumping to disguise one's feet.

Tom had spent half the morning standing out behind the garage practicing his apology. He was confident in his words (short, plain, avoiding shrill bird sounds) and most of the delivery (dry and cakey like the dust he knew they rolled their meats in), but the ending still troubled him. Instinct told him to offer the audience a chance to tug on his beard. See that it was real. But there were too many of them. And he didn't want to insult them further by insisting they wash their hands in front of him or use a sleeve to touch him. Similar concerns ruled out the offer of leg hugs. Tom wanted them to know he meant it. That he really was sorry about the mess. That he wasn't saying all this just to get back into community college. Yes he wanted the tambourine back, but he really wanted...

Three months ago, our fine Governor cancelled all the fried chicken parties. Statewide, outright, wholesale. Gone. The fallout, locally, has been particularly acute. People spend a lot more time looking at the ground. Even for Michigan. Mumbling to themselves. People have been self-limiting themselves to three friends. It's all unraveling. One man covered himself in bees and drove his truck through the Virginia Farrell Beauty School. When they finally cleaned him up he couldn't stop shaking. They threw him right in the pit. No hope. Fathers, for the first time in quite a while, have had to look their children in the eye and level with them. Really open up and confess weakness. “This is how the world is. I can't change it.” It even outraged Pinball Jim. He hates...

The local Chamber of Commerce has begun vomiting into each other’s mouths for charity.

Thigh bruises leave you wanting to sleep away the days behind drawn curtains. This helps nothing. Get outside. Wipe off your mouth. Go somewhere you’ve never been. Like a soon-to-close Big Lots clearance superstore. Just walk around in it. Lean in close to the discounted wading pools and inhale deeply. There’s no security at these places. You can touch nearly anything for as long as you want. Force yourself alive. Spend too much time in the decorative glass aisle. The colored glass is seductive and can usually justify its cost through vague functionality. “This turquoise bulldog could be an ashtray. Probably use it to hold pens, too.” Guilt pangs start in the second hour. You’re not going to buy anything. This is just a distraction from your upper leg...