SKIRMISHER

Next thing Watson sees is a dead body in the garbage chute, with his pockets full of “wee models” of people.
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With human impotence breathing warmly in their faces, Watson and his friends simply watched the dancing fire tornado and told one another jokes about mothers-in-law.

Watson looks across the space. There’re all the lasers, the neons criss-crossing like deathrays. There are all the zombie-teenagers flopping their arms around like scarecrows in a nasty twister. Their eyes staring at nothing. Their faces all sweaty and empty.
Watson gazes across the space and for a millisecond, the girl looks in his direction. And […]

Sometimes, Watson sees the sign and says, “Where’s the dead tree I can hump?

“And so Watson discovers that paying $400 for some nice airline seat gives him the enviable privilege of being the sole audience to the sounds and smells of the aircraft lavatory.”

“Watson lives happily in a fairytale place where irony has yet to be recognized, sniffed, and spat. Now bend over.”

“And for many days after the incident, Watson would still wake up screaming from the sphincter-burning nightmare that was The Killer Wedgie.”