Oh, the HugeManatee (hint: sounds like Humanity)

I was woken up early the other morning by the spouse's alarm. He had a golf date. Why did I have to wake up for that? Unknown. Was it raining? Heh. Yes. I reached for my buhberry, because I'm addicted to it. Also, I have really poor eyesight and have to bring a clock to within an inch of my eyes to see what time it is. It was an ungodly early hour and, worse, I had an email. Well, several, but I only recall the one.

It was...deep breath...a short story rejection. I'd had a ss on a short list for a few months and it was time for them to either select it or send its remains back to its maker. They chose the latter in a very polite and encouraging form rejection. Did I bury it? Did I bury my head under the pillow and go back to sleep (which I should have done, it being obscenely early)? No. I ran down to my computer and started searching for the next market to which I would send it. We do not dwell, gentle readers. We move on. Because, you know, life is short.

I then skimmed through my file of short story ideas and starts, looking for a project that I could (ha!) quickly perfect and submit to this market to show them how very sorry they were to have dismissed me. (Please remember that this was early in the morning, before my civility or professionalism had risen.) Instead I was faced with documents with titles such as "Lawn Zombies", "Erotic Card Game", "Diminutive French Girl in a Box" and "Naive Demon YA Start". Startled, and having no idea what these files could possibly contain, I simply backed away.

The mind boggles. "Naive Demon Young Adult"? I'm considering deleting it unexplored.

And what dirty or flummoxing concepts do you have hidden out of sight and mind, dear readers?