Andrew S. Taylor
Newspapers authored by intelligent viruses.  Snake ladders.  Panthers, made of pure velvet.  A galaxy where every constellation looks like a necktie or an ashtray.  Poems about tax collectors.  Frogs born with corporate drag-racing decals.  Telephones with wet, writhing horse mouths instead of speakers.  People with speakers in place of mouths that dispense muzak and automated menus.  Left nipple for Spanish and right for English.  Television commercials for magic toast.  Elephants with human psychiatric disorders.  Pornographic math equations.  Gigantic molecules in the shape of blasphemous, rutting monsters, floating in communion wine.  Foul odors that speak in complex sentences about the sins of those who emit them.  Gymnasiums filled with vines that yield ripening lacrosse players.  Three-dimensional television images which detach from their programs and berate viewers for their perverse voyeurism.  Levitating sex-toys which dive-bomb like bats in the dark of the night.  Elf porn.  Plastic cartons filled with existential doubt.  Pillows that eat dreams and shit facelifts.  Robotic vacuum cleaners in the form of Galapagos turtles.  Puffer fish, frustrated with diplomacy, finally exploding.  Office furniture that unionizes.  Bi-cameral legislatures divided between bacterial swarms and hirsute face-eaters.  Expanding clouds of brownish fog with grievances against humanity.  Electricity that forgets where it's going.  Pills that scream when swallowed.  New Jersey, on television, submerged underwater, encased in glass, filled with octopuses staring in desperation.   Customized penis enhancements which cause erections to sprout rose blossoms.  Particle of dust which prejudicially discriminate against other kinds of dust.  Wars based on pop music.  Radioactive sky plankton.  Lust-filled rain, dripping against gravity.  Tumbleweeds made from neurons and dendrites, driven by thoughts of pious arrogance.  The Big Yellow Smiley Moon.  Leaning towers with leering eyes and questionable values.  Spherical consumers.  Children programmed to hibernate when stored in refrigerators.  Loud arguments between nose goblins.  Razor-sharp customs forms, smeared with blood.  Mirrors imbued with irreverence and mocking humor.  Pants that change shape and size according to their fickle affections for whomever wears them.  Television writers capable of outwitting mushrooms.  Swarms of locusts that turn out to be rather pleasant.  Sponge police.  God, at long last, severely reprimanded by Meta-God.  Female Jesus.  Cameras that swallow souls.