I write, and I'm alive.

Of course, if you tell everyone you’re going to go talk to a rock, some folks will say things like, “But rocks don’t talk!” or “Are you feeling okay?” or “Rocks are only good for eating!” Don’t worry. They’re wrong. Rocks can talk.

Game night with the guys turns ugly when the cop shows up.

They don't change fundamentally -- they don't sprout mouths and stomachs. But every year, even a twisted old crone of an apple tree suddenly decks herself in fresh pink blossoms, like a grandmother dressed for a wedding.

Now you can read (or reread) your favorite alternative news satire pieces from my short-lived but immortal "Fabricated Press."