Confessions of a Dangerous Strand of Refined and Processed Semolina Flour


Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.
It’s not easy for a strand of spaghetti to confess his sins, let alone sin.
But somewhere between the pasta factory and the boiling salted water, I engaged in horrific, lewd, and perverted acts in my box with the stockgirl whilst on the grocer’s shelf that I dare not mention.
I thought that the tomato sauce and grated Parmesan would cover all of this up, but I realize now that I cannot hide my transgressions in the eyes of The Lord.
Please put that fork down and take a moment to forgive me.

Feh to Foliage


Other kids had Christmas Trees.
I had a Menorah.
No, I didn’t have a Hannukah Bush. We never had a Hannukah Bush.
What’s the origins of that stupid Hannukah Bush anyway? The Menorah represents the Burning Bush, so what is this other bush for?
Next thing you know, they’ll dress some jackass in a blue suit and call him Rabbi Goldstein or something.
Can we look forward to Ramadan Ralph putting presents by an ivy-covered trellis?
How about a Buddhist Bob passing out Zen Candy in an algae-covered dish?
Whatever happened to Holiday Spirit? Good Will? All that Jazz?

The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln 22


Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be, thought Abe, and he sat in his chair and smiled.
“I am very happy,” he said to his wife.
“Any particular reason why you’re happy?” asked Mary Todd.
“Because I have decided to be happy,” said Abe. “I have made my mind up, and I will be happy.”
Mary Todd smiled.
“Why are you smiling?” asked Abe.
“The voices in my head have stopped screaming,” said Mary Todd. “They’re now reading the newspaper aloud.”
“Let me know when you get to the sports section,” said Abe.

To Sir With Love


Patty? Yeah, I knew her. She was always a bit dyke-y.
Her parents were so in denial. They were always joking about her being a tomboy.
She’d grow out of the sandals and flannel shirts some day. Despite always running him down, that Chuck kid would make a good boyfriend, perhaps?
Yeah, right.
Instead, she turned to me. And heroin.
God, she was fun, but I swear I tried to get her to go clean. I really did.
I was the one who found her body, the needle still hanging out of her arm.
I wonder what Velma’s doing tonight.

The Circus is coming to town!


“The circus is coming to town!” the kids shouted.
It was nice to hear that sort of thing these days. With videogames and the Internet, wholesomeness like kids getting excited by the circus coming to town was refreshing.
Of course, nobody was looking forward to the circus itself, but what happened while the circus was in town.
Stampeding elephants down Main Street.
Murder-suicides among the sideshow freaks.
Food poisoning scares on the Midway.
And just because you can stuff twenty drunk clowns into a sedan, it doesn’t mean everybody gets a seatbelt.
You can’t fault the EMTs for laughing, though.

Send ’em off with a bang!


Suzy wasn’t cheap, but the Boosters were picking up the tab.
Every year, the same thing. Sort of a graduation ceremony for the football team.
She still had a scar on her lip from last year, thanks to a quarterback with a piercing and a thing for slapping.
They paid her double to keep her mouth shut, so to speak.
This time, it was behind the Science Building. Suzy found it funny that some didn’t even know where it was despite getting A’s and B’s from there.
She heard a zipper.
“Showtime,” she sighed, as the line started to move.

The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln 21


Abe walked over the hill and saw a circle of robed priests, chanting at a naked man.
Every five seconds, the man leapt into the air and fell back down to the ground.
“What are you doing?” whispered Abe to an acolyte.
“We are helping our master leap to the moon,” said the priest.
Eventually, the naked man was too tired to jump anymore.
While the naked man rested, Abe took his place. He was happy to help the chanters, and it had been at least a week since he’d been naked in public.
“To the moon!” he shouted, leaping.

In space, no one can hear you say “I do”


Russia denies it was a stunt for desperately-needed cash. “How do spacewalk weddings work?” is legitimate research in their opinion.
“Bullshit!” NASA seethed, but it’s all fair game in the partnership contract.
The Sultan wore a specially-made Tuxedo-suit. In reality, it was just standard cosmonaut’s gear painted black with tails and a bowtie.
The bride’s gown was an elaborate sculpture of gossamer and a mile-long glittering silk train.
Dazzling, it was.
When the preacher said “You may now kiss the bride,” The Sultan lifted his visor and unlocked his helmet seal.
The Russians shrugged. The fool had paid in advance.

Time Jerk


Across history, there was no name more loathed than Elias the Time Jerk’s was.
At any moment of his choosing, he and his Temporal Easy Chair would fade into sync.
He liked to watch History in the unmaking.
Not this time, however. A temporal rift had tossed him facedown in the dust of Yuma, Arizona.
Elias brushed himself and walked into a diner.
“Mafle Garfle Mumgle,” said the waitress.
“Great,” said Elias. “Phaseshift sickness.”
Elias smiled, gladly accepted some coffee, and headed to a mall for a new chair and radio parts.
Rebuilding was easy, all it took was time.

Hold the dead brunette, please.


Every day at noon, I head down to Harry’s Hotdog Cart for a footlong with mustard, sauerkraut, and relish.
“The usual, Sam?” asked Harry.
“Work your magic, Harry,” I said.
Harry smiled and waved his tongs.
The man’s a hotdog wizard, I tell you.
Just as Harry handed me his latest masterpiece, a scream came from above. And then WHAM!!!! a red blur smashed into the cart, scattering bottles and buns everywhere.
I picked myself up and looked at a woman sprawled across the cart.
Red dress. Dark hair.
Very dead.
“No cutting in line, bitch!” I yelled.