Kate Ryan

One crawled up the side of the bag and opened her wings, a hardtop convertible with legs.

The bread had to be store-bought and white, of course, so as not to raise a red flag among my classmates. I still see rebellion in a ham sandwich.

She knows you’re not supposed to call it an “it,” but she honestly can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl or . . . undecided.

Light some candles and use those bath salts you've been saving for a special occasion. Masturbate for 55 minutes.

At Monster High, Jimmy Werewolf gets another demerit for forgetting to shave again.

LAX, on the other hand, seemed like a perfect place to pick up the latest deadly virus.

The birds abandon their posts in the pepper trees, sending tiny, oblong leaves raining to the ground.

For all of you crazy people that think going to Target is ever a good idea during the holiday season, this is a list on how to survive a shopping trip to Target is for you…

A bloated mother in her polka dot one-piece gnaws on a corndog while reading the romantic pulp she picked up on her way out of the supermarket . . .

“You are the naked girl on horse, yes?” he said, approaching her table from across the café patio.