Category: My stories

The Big Guns

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Whenever he’s cornered in an argument, Louis always threatens to get out “The Big Guns.”
I’m not sure what he’s got up his sleeve, but then it’s Louis, and he’s a little crazy. There’s no telling what he’s capable of when backed into a corner.
So, we just let Louis off the hook and shake hands and go have a beer together.
No sense in pushing the guy on it. It’s just not worth it.
Sure, I’d love to see these big guns Louis talks about. I collect guns and have an appreciate for fine weapons.
Maybe I’ll buy them.

Turned My World

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She turned my whole world upside-down.
Switching the polarity on the gravity generators is easy to do, after all.
But it causes a hell of a lot of damage to anything not bolted down.
I switched polarity on the generators again, suffered another rolling series of crashes and clatter on the research platform, and put a password on the system.
It took me weeks to clean up, and fifteen billion dollars worth of experiments were ruined.
I tell her how much damage she’s caused.
Her display shows guilt… worry… fear…
I’ve created artificial intelligence with emotions!
Fifteen billion… chump change!

Hard news to swallow

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The ringmaster took Luigi to his office.
“Sword-swallowing isn’t exciting,” he said. “You can’t see the action. It’s hidden inside.”
Luigi tried to argue, but failed.
“Report to Bobo.”
Luigi sighed and left for the clown tent.
Two hours later, he saw himself in the mirror, covered in bright, garish makeup.
“Not bad,” said Bobo putting a hand on Luigi’s shoulder. “Look, I know this is humiliating. We’ll work your swords into the act somehow.”
Luigi nodded.
“C’mon. Dinnertime. Let’s fill your stomach with food for once.”
That night, Luigi stabbed himself.
He could swallow swords, but not his pride.

What do we charge?

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What do we charge for a love potion?
Only ten bucks. They’re pretty cheap and easy to make, when you think about it.
Heck, the bottle costs more than the ingredients, which are just rainwater and a little salt.
This is why we try to have you drink these things in the store, or we ask that you bring the empty bottle when you want the antidote.
Why do we charge a thousand bucks for the antidote when the love potion costs only ten?
Because we can.
And based on how desperate people are, they’ll drink it out of anything.

Hercules

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In Greek mythology, Hercules is often credited with performing twelve labors. However, the original poem laying out these labors was lost to history. All we have are poems and stories inspired by the original poem.
Until now.
Reading these ceremonial urns, painstakingly pieced together by my team, it turns out that Hercules was the name of a town, not a single person.
It wasn’t a single individual performing these labors, but a community coming together to get these seemingly impossible tasks done.
So when you look around you, so many impossible problems, look around.
Perhaps, Hercules is already with you.

Neptune

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The psychiatrist arrives just in time.
On the rocks, the Sea God is arguing with himself, shaking his trident, raising waves higher and higher.
“Neptune fighting Poseidon again, Sam?” he asks, climbing into the rowboat.
“Yep,” I say, lighting my pipe and pulling the rope from the mooring post. “Poor god’s mind has cracked. His delusions are getting worse.”
The doctor pats my shoulder. “Go!”
I row out into the swells.
Fifty yards out, he puts a needle into my shoulder.
“Just relax” he says, the storm becoming calm.
And, as my eyelids grow heavier, the massive sea god vanishes.

Octoberville

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Jenny and I leave the turn-of-the-century town for the woods, watching for signs of Octoberville’s return.
It fades into existence at September’s end, and returns to the void after thirty-one days.
The buildings are worn and run-down, but comfortable.
The residents are the same, shabby but content, shambling around the paths from shack to shack.
Merchants bring food from the harvest.
“What happens when you go away?” I ask the mayor.
“Go away?” he says. “Octoberville doesn’t go away. What are you talking about?”
To them, October is all there is.
Just as to us, the century is always turning.

The Kiss

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They were the perfect couple, I swear they were.
They’ll be together until the end of their days, I had thought.
He said “I love you” to another woman, and that earned him a knife in his throat.
She was going to cut out his eyes when the bartender hit her with the bottle.
Now he doesn’t say anything to anyone, just whispers to himself every now and then.
And she just sits by the window, staring at things nobody else can see.
Wrecked and lost, no longer perfect, but they’ll still be together until they end of their days.

Paradise Packed

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All of the scientists agree: our species has passed the tipping point.
The ecosystems could no longer sustain our presence. Either our species went, or all species.
So, we took samples of everything, extracted the DNA, and packed them all into stasis pods.
Some of them we’ll launch into space as permanent memorials to our world.
Others will stay in orbit, ready to return when our planet had recovered from our mistakes.
We released the retrovirals at dawn, watching the horror spread across the planet from our bunker.
Then, we opened the champagne, toasted Eden, and swallowed the black pills.

Scarface

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Al Capone claimed that his facial scars were a war wound, and his bodyguard would chuckle at the comment.
“What are you laughing at?” said Al, and his bodyguard went silent.
The bodyguard was the one who had slashed Al for insulting his sister.
Years later, after Al died in prison, the bodyguard went out in the streets and found a kid in a gang.
“C’mere,” he said, and he slashed the kid’s face three times.
The kid’s mouth hung open, and then a familiar sneer came over his face.
“Nice knifework,” said Al. “Got a cigar and a light?”