Casey Hall lives and works in a stupor. He often thinks of that scene in
A theoretical mote of an uncomposed universe nibbles on the dust of the cosmos.
Primordial Ooze on the right, Primordial Ooze Light on the left.
There is surprisingly little meat on a pterodactyl wing.
For the herbivorous, may we recommend an 18-year-old cave slime?
One great ape ruffles through the matted, napped fur of another in search of a succulent tick.
A Neanderthal, name of Shug, beats a dragonfly the size of a modern Volkswagen into a paste that he intends to spread on fibrous swamp reed at a party he is hosting that evening.
It unclear to man what food and what not food. Thing usually not food.
Woolly rhinoceros goes extinct. JUST GREAT.
Between shifts of back-breaking labor, young pyramid builders portion out mud-cured cat whiskers from canopic lunch pails.
Invention of the pot helps usher turtle shells off of the cooktop and onto the table.
At the poshest bacchanals your options are pretty much perfumed snake tongue or the testicles of eunuchs.
Nothing but loaves and fishes, always fucking loaves and fishes.
It has been 12 weeks since the inhabitants of a small Norse settlement buried a shark under loose sand and gravel. Soon the bacteria will build up enough, and rotten shark meat will explode from the earth. This is the season’s only celebration.
As a prank, the inedible parts of a schepe [sic] are boiled inside of the inedible part of a cowe [sic].
Huddled in a waterlogged corner of the