Ted has a face for radio. His face is shaped like a sound booth, and radio talent step into his face and speak into his nose.
He also has a penis for radio. It’s a thousand feet long, and when he lays on his back, it’s an antenna mast to which he can mount a transmitter.
In fact, pretty much every part of Ted’s body is for radio. His eyes, his ass, his feet… they’re all for radio.
One day, the amplifier in his spleen burned out, and he needed surgery.
The surgeons didn’t ground themselves, and everyone was electrocuted.
Doctor Odd used to own a castle in Eastern Europe, but he got tired of angry mobs of peasants with pitchforks and torches.
At first, he hacked Google Maps to lead the peasants over a cliff, but that only worked once. Eventually, the peasants followed road signs.
Doctor Odd removed the road signs, but that made it difficult for the Post Office to deliver his mail.
Sure, most of it was bills and junk mail, but he didn’t want to have to get a Post Office box and risk going into town.
Where the peasants waited. With pitchforks and torches.
His name is Fritz Fitzimmons.
You can call him Fritz, or you can call him Fitz.
Every Tuesday, he’s down at the Auctioneer Union Hall, playing Bridge with his buddies.
He’s not very good at it, but neither are they.
They used to shoot pool, but arthritis made it hard.
They can barely shuffle, deal, and hold the cards now.
But the bidding’s pretty fierce.
Rattling off their hearts and spades and diamonds.
And their no trumps.
When the bidding’s over, the dealer shouts SOLD! and the winner takes the cards.
As I said, they’re not very good at Bridge.
All across the world, bright lights have appeared in the sky, and people have risen into the lights and vanished.
Nobody has seen the source of the light, and nothing appears on radar or cameras or other means of detection.
Some say it’s UFOs. Others say it’s God sucking the people into Heaven.
There’s no pattern to the disappearances at all. Analysis of the victims reveals no rhyme or reason to the incidents.
There aren’t many of them though. Ten or fifteen a day.
So many more people die of other things every day, but still, the fear spreads quickly.
Never stare a gift horse in the mouth?
Who gives a horse as a gift?
How the hell do you wrap it?
And what if they don’t like horses?
Can they exchange it for a sweater or a waffle iron?
I never got any horses as gifts.
I got my horses with hard work.
It took a lot of effort to steal them.
Horse thieving isn’t easy, you know.
Maybe I have a few leftovers I could give as gifts.
If I give you a horse, don’t just regift the thing, okay?
And don’t look it in the mouth.
After Bob graduated from Clown College, he wasn’t ready to join the workforce just yet. He couldn’t imagine himself shoveling elephant poop while waiting for his chance at the big top, so he stayed for Clown Graduate School.
He earned his Masters, and picked up his PhD.
Instead of the circus or carnivals, Bobo applied for a research grant.
Over the years, his lab made some amazing discoveries.
The optimal floppy shoe length.
Self-driving clown cars.
Memory rubber for self-folding balloon animals.
But every now and then, for old times sake, he smacked himself in the face with a pie.
Don’t steal another man’s shoes
At the Palace Hotel
They’ll throw you out of the window.
Don’t walk on the sidewalk
At the Palace Hotel
They’ll throw a bum out of the window
For stealing another man’s shoes
And he’ll land on you.
Don’t wear shoes
At the Palace Hotel
Someone will steal your shoes
And throw them out of the window.
Someone will say that you stole their shoes
And they’ll take your shoes
And throw you out of the window.
Maybe you shouldn’t go to the Palace Hotel.
Just stay here, down in the alley.
Every morning, I put on my workout clothes, start the coffee maker, and turn on the treadmill.
I put a desk fan and my laptop on the desk of the treadmill, attach the safety key to my hip, and get moving.
The only thing that gets in my way is Myst the cat.
If I lay on the sofa for a bit before my walk, she’ll get up on my lap and fall asleep.
It’s her way of trying to veto my walk.
That veto is easily overturned. I set her aside, and get moving.
I press START and walk.
The sadness spreads to everyone.
We all tread water in a pool of tears.
Sometimes, we splash each other for fun. Make the best of it.
Other times, we splash in frustration. Or rage.
And then there’s the ones who will pull you under with them.
Trying to scream under the water, thrashing and kicking.
Into the dark.
We build a raft out of the drowned
Lashing them together with their clothes
And we paddle for the shore.
But we never see land.
Only more people treading water, splashing, and thrashing.
It goes on and on and on
I go to bed early, my wife goes to bed late.
While I sleep, she watches TV, reads, and lets the cats go out and play.
Now and then, a neighbor cat comes by, and she feeds the cat.
Sometimes, it’s a friendly cat, and it comes inside to get warm.
Recently, an orange cat with a very fluffy tail has come by to visit.
I woke up at three in the morning and instead of our cats, I saw him, sniffing around on the bed.
“Hi, Fluffy,” I said.
He meowed, and scampered off.
So much better than dreams.