I recently moved offices.
I threw out the stuff I didn’t want to move from the old office, boxed up everything I wanted to move, and carried it across the hall to the new office.
It took a while for the facilities crew to move my desk. I didn’t want to move it myself because it was big, heavy, and my back was hurting from moving the boxes.
I worked from a small side table for a day.
Once the desk arrived, I arranged my shelves, hung poster frames, and connected the equipment back up.
Then, I shut the door.
I twisted the lid off of the jar, bent over, and shook the frog on to the grass.
The frog righted itself, licked its eyes, and hopped away.
“Happy hunting,” i said.
Two months later, the mosquitos in the area were gone.
The frog I’d released had a virus which inserted DNA into other frogs that caused them to gorge themselves on mosquitos.
The virus had spread quickly among the population.
No more nasty pesticides. No more fervent searches for stagnant water.
I smiled, and licked my lips.
No more mosquitos to eat.
Maybe a nice cheeseburger will do instead?
Johnny was ten years old, dressed in Union blues and holding the flag high as he ran through the trees with his father, his uncles, and his brothers to charge the grey Rebel lines.
Bullets everywhere. Men and boys, screaming and falling into the dirt and mud and water.
Blood and death, bodies trampled into the earth, into the shadow of night, where you couldn’t tell where man ended and ground began, or the blue from gray.
Johnny dropped his flag, stopped, and stared at the surrounding carnage.
He fell to his knees, and instead of a prayer, he vomited.
I’ve had a lot of things on my mind in the past few months.
I’ve tried to draw inspiration from them, but instead, I find myself dwelling, trapped by my thoughts.
Instead of writing my way through the fear and pain, and finding strange new territory to explore, I find myself digging myself deeper into them.
Trapped. Scared. Alone.
The few bright spots are hard to see through the darkness and gloom.
But I know that they are there.
I pet my cats. I watch Netflix and on-demand.
Maybe the light will come back soon.
And I’ll follow it out.
I’m really scared.
I said something I shouldn’t have.
And I totally regret saying it.
Yeah, I was mad.
Yeah, I was frustrated.
But that’s no excuse.
Now, I don’t know if I have a job.
I have to wait for the managers to investigate and discuss the situation.
Until then, I’m suspended.
With pay, but that doesn’t really help in the long run.
I’ve left jobs without knowing where the next job was.
And it’s absolute hell.
The waiting and not-knowing is awful.
I’m tempted to call in and quit.
Just so that I know for certain.
I packed the picnic basket, loaded up the horses, and we rode out into the forest.
We rode for half an hour, until I found the perfect spot.
We dismounted, and spread out the blanket.
Then, we unloaded the basket for our afternoon meal.
As I held the bottle of wine, I realized that I had forgotten the corkscrew.
“Should I go back?” I asked my companion.
“No,” she said. She took out a Swiss Army Knife, and flicked out a corkscrew.
Unfortunately, the Swiss Army Knife didn’t include a condom.
And nine months later, you were born.
It’s not hard to make ice cubes.
Pour water into a tray.
Then put the tray in the freezer.
Let the water in the tray freeze.
Then dump the ice into a bucket.
Repeat this as needed.
Sometimes, I forget to let the water freeze.
And half-frozen shards fall into the bucket with a trickle of water.
Even if I pour out the water, the ice shards freeze together.
The bucket becomes a solid block of ice.
And I have to bash it against the counter to dump it out.
Then, I get out the trays, and fill them up.
Call it what you will:
The Shell Game
Cups And Balls
It’s a magic trick, slight-of-hand, and a con game.
Make people think they have the advantage when they don’t.
Open a fake telegraph office, and take people’s money to tap a telegraph key that wasn’t connected to anything.
Open a fake Army induction office, and while the doctor checked out the men, the nurse stole their wallets.
So, you challenge him to a duel, and he lets you choose a pistol from his set.
And he hands you a bullet.
That turns out to be a blank.
Down in the dungeon.
That’s where Caroline goes every Friday.
Her hands, bound to the tile walls.
Her ankles, shackled to the floor.
A ballgag in her mouth.
Hot candle wax on her skin.
And a rubber plug in her ass.
No tears. No whimpers.
Sometimes, they whip her.
Other times, they spray her with the fire hose.
Then there’s the times they make microwave popcorn where she can hear it and smell it and can’t do anything about it.
And then they whip her some more.
When it’s all over, they give her the bill.
That’s when she screams.
Down in the dungeon.
That’s where Caroline goes every Friday to play.
Binding the customer’s hands to the tile on the walls.
Shackling her ankles to the floor.
Popping a ballgag into her mouth.
Dripping a candle on to her skin.
Stuffing a rubber plug in her ass.
She listens… no crying, no whimpering.
So, she whips the girl.
Sprays her with the fire hose.
She takes a break, and makes microwave popcorn. Lets the girl smell it, and gives her nothing.
Finally, she tallies up the evening’s bill, and shows it to the girl.
That’s when she screams.
Back in the day, if you tried to order something special at McDonalds, the whole place grinds to a halt.
No onions? No pickles?
But that wasn’t my special order.
I’d try to order a shake with chocolate on the bottom, vanilla in the middle, and strawberry on top.
The flavor depended on how deep you poked the straw.
The pimply-faced teenagers running the place would look at me like I was crazy when I insisted on a triple-flavor shake, but I knew that when the dinner rush was over, everyone mixed them up and tried it themselves.