About John Zakour: John Zakour is an American science-fiction and humor writer.
As a matter of fact, Ona spent more credits on the window shades alone than you will make in your entire lifetime and that’s if you live to be 185.” “And that’s meant to make me feel better?” I said. “No, that is meant to inform you. I am...
Don't worry, boss,” HARV said. “I get the feeling that this is only the tip of the iceberg of complications.” “HARV, you’re a machine. You don’t get feelings.” “Would it make you feel better if I said I've done a numerical analysis on...
How bad is it?” “The story is only just now being reported, but let's put it this way,” HARV said. “The bag is now clearly catless, and there’s a very foul odor coming from the fan.
I told you it was easy,” HARV said. “True, but you say that about everything.” “That's because everything is easy for me.” “Everything but humility.” “No, that's easy, too. I just choose not to practice it.
Carol, I thought you didn't liked playing with the minds of normal people.” “Yes, but the press don't count as normal.” “She’s got you there,” HARV added.
Forget it,” I said. “Opie could be bloodthirsty, rabid, radioactive, and selling life insurance and he’d still be preferable to listening to the two of you.
W turned on his heel and began walking toward the door at the far wall. And by walking I mean, of course, not moving at all, at least not to the naked eye, because his strides could only be measured in micrometers. His creaky legs made barely the tin...
I can tell you that she's not breathing,” he said. “She has no heartbeat and all organ function and brain activity have stopped. Also her body temperature is now at seventy-three degrees.” “So you’re saying that she’s dead,” I said. “...
HARV appeared in front of me, arms crossed, head tilted. “You really should read your e-mails from Randy more carefully,” he lectured. “I skim them,” I protested. “Well, if you skimmed them more carefully you would know that prolonged expos...
HARV, can you help at all here?” I asked, spinning downward. “I am writing your obituary. Well, not so much writing it as updating it,” HARV told me. If I lived, I was going to kill HARV.
Walking into Nova Hollywood, I remembered why I didn’t come here more often. I like a good slice of cheese as much as the next guy, but this place would be too cheesy for a giant mutant rat who had been starving for a week.
My number one fear is heights. Well, not so much the heights but the falling from heights. Actually the falling isn’t that bad (I have a strong heart), it’s the sudden stops that are painful. Believe me — I experienced it once.
Thing is, I am not a big fan of hovers. I firmly believe that if man was meant to fly we’d have feathers, rubber bones, or better insurance coverage.
So, what you’re basically telling me is death is boring but no worse than hanging out with family.
Twoa said, obviously still in my brain. "It was my pheromones," she said defensively. I looked up at her; she was sniffing herself. She looked down at me. "Okay, maybe it wasn’t ALL the pheromones," she admitted. "Nobody makes a good deodorant for ...
I remembered the last time I put this thing into my eye it was more painful than watching old political speeches while listening to the “Macarena” and having a root canal performed by an angry, clumsy chimp.
Miss Hunter leaned toward Stormy. “Well, as you also may know, ever since the year when Dylan Jackson was nominated for and won prom queen without his knowledge, it’s been school policy to inform all nominees that they have been selected as a can...
Stupid Ape: I had to quantify this with the word “stupid” so as not to offend the ape community. Large of limb, impotent of intellect, he was the kind of guy who lettered in leg-breaking at thug school but flunked the written exam because he didn...
Great Gates almighty,” HARV said inside my brain. “I go off-line for a few nanos and the whole world goes to DOS.
You bastard, stop that whistling and fight me like a man!
