Vengeance is Mine by Carlos Soca

Cracked by bmiles on DeviantArt.com

You gunned it through the crosswalk.
Sixteen hours on a ventilator so she could be spare parts for other parents’ kids.
Doubt you registered the impact; tracks didn’t swerve or slow down.
Outside your house, eyeing the gun that took her place in the car beside me, I imagine how long I’ll take.
They say there’s only two stories, one about love and one about revenge. I only read the Good Book and don’t worry I’ll see you in hell when I’m done.
What I’m going to do to you is biblical, and that makes me God.

Don’t mess with Fluffy by Austin Malcome

Battle Hamster Goes South by ursulav on DeviantArt.com

The hamster leaped from his cage and sank his teeth into Harold’s neck. Harold screamed, and tried to pull Fluffy away.

“Damn you, Fluffy!” Harold screamed. “I’ll teach you to bite me, you fuzzy bastard!”

He ran to his gun locker and pulled out a shotgun.

Fluffy’s eyes widened.

“Hey, wait man,” he muttered through a mouthful of neck. “Let’s talk about this!”

“I’ll see you in hell!” Harold replied.

He pointed the gun at Fluffy and fired.

Fluffy jumped out of the way. Harold shot himself in the face.

The hamster packed his suitcase and left.

Kids are for Trxxks by Katherine J. Parker

Monster Breakfast by The Despot

“Don’t play with your food, honey,” Lrglphmp gurgled.

“But it’s more fun when I gotta catch’em.” Hrglphx gave the scrabbling bipeds a poke. They scattered, clambering up the walls of his bowl.

“Hm, a bit underdone.” Lrglphmp leaned over and delivered a glob of corrosive mucus to her son’s meal. “Better let them ferment.”

“Boooorrring,” Hrglphx groaned as his playthings grew lethargic. “They’re better raw.”

Lrglphmp thrust a tentacle behind the salt shaker, snatching an escaped morsel. It screamed as she tossed it into her gaping maw. “You’re right, humans do taste better raw.”

Respect Your Elders by The Despot

Laughter, the best medicine by VaggelisFragiadakis on DeviantArt.com

The doorbell rang. Betsy shuffled to the door. As she opened it, rank smoke billowed inward. On her doorstep, a paper bag burned.

“Oh dear.” She stomped on it. The bag burst, smearing her Dr. Scholl’s in dog poo.

Laughter erupted from behind some bushes.

“Dadgum neighborhood boys,” said Betsy, wiping her shoes with a tea towel.

The next day, the doorbell rang. Betsy shuffled to the door and opened it. An open pit had replaced the doormat. She peered down the hole. Two boys wailed as spikes penetrated their intestines.

“Respect your elders, scoundrels!” said Betsy, closing the trapdoor.