Roger, at Cornell University they have an incredible piece of scientific equipment known as the Tunneling Electron Microscope. Now, this microscope is so powerful that by firing electrons you can actually see images of the atom, the infinitesimally minute building blocks of our universe. Roger, if I were using that microscope right now, I still wouldn’t be able to locate my interest in your problem.

My parents taught me never to judge others based on whom they love, what color their skin is, or their religion. Why make life miserable for someone when you can use your energy for good? We don’t need to share the same opinions as others, but we need to be respectful. When you hear people making hateful comments, stand up to them. Point out what a waste it is to hate, and you could open their eyes.

Three horsepeople of the semi-apocalypse

“You sure you got ‘em all?” He asked as the three of them slipped quietly through the darkened yard of the transfer station.

“Yep,” the dark-haired girl agreed confidently, holding up a can of spray paint. “Monkey skills and this are no match for cameras. Where’s his car?”

“Right there,” he answered, pointing to a ragged out Camaro. Too many run-ins with the same douche-bag had culminated that afternoon into a blowup of epic proportion on his part. The asshole in question had left his vehicle at work to go drinking with some other rednecks after hours, giving them a prime opportunity to take revenge. “What’s the plan again?”

“Run over the car, back up, scoop it into the ditch, and then set it on fire,” she repeated with mild exasperation, flipping open her lighter for punctuation. “Done and done.”

He opened his mouth, suddenly doubting a plan that had been hatched between shots of tequila, but before he could figure out what to say, he was interrupted.

“Is that it?” the girl on the other side of him asked excitedly, her dark eyes glittering in the faint glow of the security light. The front end loader he drove everyday loomed before them. She had been begging to drive it all night, and had just about talked him into handing over the keys.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he agreed hesitantly.

“Come on!” she insisted, dragging him by one arm. The two girls scrambled up into the cab and he followed, any doubt evaporating as he was surrounded by them in the small space. Their half-drunk excitement was too infectious. And what did he have to lose at this point, anyway? After what happened, he probably wouldn’t have a job long, and he hated it, besides.

“Let’s show this motherfucker what happens when he fucks with the wrong people,” the little one snarled in the dark.

As the engine rumbled to life, the other one put a plastic Viking helmet on her head and let out a scream: “TO VALHALLA!”