It’s the chink in the armor,

But not the one on your heel.

It’s not the one you can see

with your eyes.

It’s the sense of dread you feel,

Like a blade,

sharp,

cold,

cutting.

Like someone found the chink in your armor.

But not the one you had expected.

It’s not the problem you planned for.

Not a pain for which

you had the antidote.

You had prepared for the chink in your heel;

You knew the scorpion by name.

Yet,

they found it.

It?

You didn’t even know what it was,

where it was.

But, you know who found it.

Don’t you?

They walk away proud,

Not even knowing what they had done.

Waving,

Smiling,

They move in golden glow.

No words,

no protest,

You stand a little smaller than before.

That was the best freakin burrito I have ever eaten in my entire life. The savory meat, the fresh lettuce, the sweet corn. My stomach is rumbling just thinking about her. I wish I could live in this moment forever, queso and guac covering my fingertips. Yet, like all delicious things, it must pass.

Oh wait, I remembered touching the device in my pocket. Well, Professor Johnson said to only use it in dire situations, but I would say this is pretty dire. My fingers stain the complex computer as I fumble the buttons. Set time: Burrito o'clock!

That was the best freakin burrito I have ever eaten in my entire life. The savory meat, the fresh lettuce, the sweet corn. My stomach is rumbling just thinking about her. I wish I could live in this moment forever, queso and guac covering my fingertips. Yet, like all delicious things, it must pass.

Oh wait, I remembered touching the device in my pocket. I'm sure Professor Johnson wouldn't mind if I just...

My Daughter, Jewel, was Delicious. Honestly, it was a Healthy and unforgettable meal! I kept her well taken care of, but not too taken care of. I didn't Expect her to have Fought as valiantly as she did. I Ought to have taken it into the Equation, she left a rather nasty Bruise on my arm. She was a fragile girl; she loved to Paint and you could tell from the flavor pallet. I still don't know where she learned all those fight moves. I think it was from all those Action movies from the Western Period that I let her watch. It's my Fault really, I let her watch them. Then again, what's a poor girl to do when she Lives in this Jungle on my private Island? I don't see a problem with letting her watch a classic movie every now and again. Anyways, it looks like my Number is up. The police have put a Triangle on my location or is it triangled my location? I should have hidden my secret Tunnel better. I have to run, but thanks again for sharing this dining experience with me.

The air was as bitter as a child's first attempt at lemonade. All sour, not sweet. Lemonade, it's just lemon juice and water right? Wrong. You just made sour water. It's not just the way the air here cuts you, it's the way it smells. The air here even smells sharp. Yet, it's not as sharp as the grass.

The grass, dulled by the grey of the sky, licks your ankles with sandpaper tongues. If a balloon were to miraculously fall, you know it would pop before it hit the ground. The grass is so long it reaches past your sneakers, clinging to you like sinners burning in hell trying desperately to claw themselves out.

It only makes sense that the sky, the midpoint between the air and the grass, was so dull to contrast the two of them. If the feeling of grogginess and utter exhaustion had a physical form, it would be the look of this sky. It was dense and deep and all-encompassing. It was the kind of sky that appears in a horror movie on the worst day of the protagonist's life. The dulls and sharps and bitters of this landscape merge and twist your perception.

You've been walking for a while, but all you can see is grass and sky. If you believed in the Christian god, this would be purgatory. Forever a blend of sharps and softs and bitter kid lemonade.

Hansel and Gretel were hungry.

So they ate their father out of the house and home.

If I were a betting man,

I'd say their hunger conquers none.

Thus, off they went, to fill their bellies.

They meandered for many days,

growing ever hungrier.

Luckily a woman had moved in,

across the forest floor.

Starving, teeth sharper than knives,

they set their sights there then.

I wish I were a betting man,

for I would win.

As for what came next,

no one could guess.

Not even her or him!

Their eyes drew crazed and red.

Their strength grew tenfold!

As they devoured,

that house of steel and bone.

Wood cracked beneath their teeth.

Blood poured down their lips.

That poor woman could do nothing,

for Hansel and Gretel were hungry.

She tried to run and scream,

but it was over quick.

They went home that day,

and claimed she was a witch.