flash fiction
flash fiction
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We Have Been Trying To Contact You About Your Planet’s Extended Warranty
In the corner of a nondescript building in the corner of a nondescript office, there was a red telephone. No one answered it. No one except Gargox the Groggler. “Human garbage, but necessary,” said Reclan, his boss, “You understand.” Gargox understood. Human creations were…chaotic. Gargox understood too well. He was chosen for his placidity of…