Aline-Janet, a great great grandmother who lived to the remarkable age of 103.

She outlived each of her siblings, both of her parents, and seven of her children.

Most say she was lucky.

Others say she was cursed.

Some even say she was protected by God.

But no.

She was not.

Aline-Janet may have lived a long life, but that doesn't mean it was a good life.

Cheated.

Abused.

Manipulated.

Robbed.

Attacked.

Aline-Janet had every reason to die early.

No one would blame her, at least, no one who knew what happened.

But she lived.

And then the FBI came, kicking down the door.

The family was scared, screaming, pleading.

Aline-Janet knew they were here for her.

She went with them willingly.

They were going to sentence her to death, everyone knew.

Aline-Janet knew.

That's why she called them.

Have you met the trolley man?

His daughter's been selected.

Her hair is black and eyes are cyan,

Such beauty is expected.

The trolley man's been here before.

It's nothing more than work.

But this cult he cannot ignore,

It's worth going beserk.

Many bodies line the track,

But trolley man will drive.

It mattered not who he attacked,

As long as May's alive.

The missing members won't be found,

But at least May is safe and sound.

When the cat caught the canary, everybody smiled

"Good on you for murdering a young innocent child"

The bird's grave was nothing more than a hot tourist spot

For politicians to make money off of his gunshot

Does nobody care for the canary that was attacked?

Do you only see him as a modern artifact?

I swear I'll avenge him so you better hold your breath

And then we'll see how much the cat likes the taste of death

Everyone tries to persuade me not to get payback

But nobody cared when the cat decided to attack

If an eye for an eye leaves us blind without a spark

I will glady pull the trigger and wander the earth in dark

When Cupid shot his arrow into my heart, he forgot to sharpen it first. Not even the gods could dent my stone heart, and he knew it. But Cupid tried anyway. Every suitor I met with filled me with hate. Every kind person on the street. All of it was hate, and I was sick of it. I would yell at the gods, why? Why did you curse me?

But then I met him. And for the first time in my life, I realized the gift I was given. So much hate gave me the power to see true love.

One night, a man received a letter in the mail. It had no envelope, as if someone had simply placed it in the box. Perhaps the mailman? Oh well, it's not like it matters, he was bound to receive the letter some day.

"You have been invited to the Roselock Mansion, where you will meet Simon Roselock and pick your present." Well that was unexpected. Why would Simon Roselock want to meet him? The man flipped the paper to see a single sentence on the back. "Bring nothing but yourself, and do as you will."

Pay had been low recently, so the man took the bus to save on gas. It took a little bit longer, but he had finally reached the Roselock Mansion. The gates were as shiny as when he had first seen them. So many years ago, and the place was still in perfect condition. His old friend hadn't changed at all. But then... what did he need them for?

"What did you do, Simon...?" The man muttered to himself, pushing open the gates. His childhood friend was always the independent, cocky type, so he would only ever request his help if he was in serious trouble. And clearly today was one of those times. The man knocked on the door, only for it to swing open. He took a cautious step in and was met with a well-dressed older man. "Ah, Mr Kaden. We've been expecting you."

"Did Simon mess something up?" The man asked. The older man shook his head, guiding him to the conservatory. Simon Roselock was standing with a drink in hand, facing the windows. "Glad you could make it." Simon turned to face him. "Glad... to be here." The man nodded. "It's been a while, I haven't seen you since you went to..."

The man's words trailed off. Simon gestured to an armchair, and the man took a seat. As Simon poured him a glass of wine, the man observed his surroundings. There were significantly more flowers since the last time he had visited. The man guessed that meant Simon had regained his passion for nature. "You're probably wondering why you're here." Simon took another sip from his glass. "After all, we haven't spoken to each other since... you know, what happened to the rest."

Of all his memories, this one was the most painful. The mere thought of their old friends sent a twist in his gut. It was a horrible incident and caused him and Simon to grow apart. The man cleared his throat, hoping to divert the subject. "Your letter said something about... picking a present?" Simon set down his glass, picking up a small box from the nearby table. "That's right. I figured I should give you this option, for old time's sake." The man's heart jumped in his chest. Simon held out the box, and he took it in his hands. "I'm giving you the choice to pick what happens now. Open the box, or don't." Silence enveloped the room, and the man gulped. So this was why Simon wrote him... "Alright, I'll pick." He choked out, opening the box to see a single sentence inscribed at the bottom. I REMEMBER THE FIRST AND LAST THING YOU SAID TO US.

Yearly magazine subscriptions

On the counter I don't use.

Unless, of course, the mailman wants

His payment for the ruse.

After my trial found not guilty,

Violetta let me go.

Even though she hated me,

No confessions were bestowed.

Oh mailman, I apologize,

Perhaps you can forgive me.

Of course, it's not like you gave back

What I have given thee.

Explain to your wife what you did with

Richardson's affair.

Offer up your excuses,

Violetta will not care.

Enlighten our audience, mailman,

Read to them what you wrote me!

Magazines detailing the woes of

Eden, the lowly thief!

"Amazing stories from Eden!

Negative thoughts and family feuds!"

You shared the stories around town,

Mailman, this is on you.

Oh mailman, although I killed you,

Richardson declared me innocent.

Enlighten me, you fucking idiot.

You know, I haven't been honest,

Our mailman isn't lost.

Understand I had no choice, even

Knowing the true cost.

Now, the mailman had a secret,

Of the highest crime degree.

Whatever you think he did wrong,

Times that thing by three.

Had I forgiven his debt,

And looked the other way,

The mailman would have harmed even

I, the runaway.

Knock knock, said the mailman,

News of the latest political stride!

Open the door, you lowly thief,

We'll wait for you outside.

Riddle me this, your honor,

If the mailman didn't flee,

Given the current circumstances,

Have you acted just like me?

Then I'm not guilty.

I wonder if the mailman's here,

Knocking on the door.

Newspapers and magazines

On the kitchen floor.

Where did the mailman go?

When will he arrive?

Has he got my packages?

And is he still alive?

Tonight the bills are overdue,

You know what that means.

Our town's mailman may be dead

Unless we hear his screams.

Very strange, the mailman was,

Everybody knows,

But have they heard what happened under

Everybody's nose?

Even I, the lowly thief,

Never owning what is mine,

Decided that the messenger

Owes us the truth divine.

If I forgive this debt, will I

Never see the mailman then?

Guess again.