People rarely send letters these days.
It’s all electronic now.
The only things that end up in your mailbox are the very important, like official documents, and junk mail.
Tom shuffled through the campaign material, the credit card offers, and local business advertising… tossing it in the trash.
But then there was… the letter.
Plain white envelope, but no return address.
And a Martian stamp, express.
Very rare.
Must be important, because sending anything physical… it must have cost a small fortune.
He opened the envelope, but it was empty.
So, he had it framed to show off the stamp.
Category: My stories
Down on Main Street
You might find this weird, but our little village has two Main Streets.
The brothers who founded the town had a falling out, and each built a Main Street.
So if you’re looking for something on Main Street, you might need to walk over to Main Street.
We call them Benson’s Goods and Mortimer’s Bar, based on the grocery and the bar on those streets.
Main and Main is easy enough to find, that’s where the village hall is.
And Winston Park.
As opposed to the other Winston Park.
(Which is further down Main Street… no, the other Main Street.)
Pudding after pudding
I’m scheduled for major dental surgery next week, so I looked over the suggested foods list, removed the ones that aren’t good for my other health issues, and went to the grocery store.
Milk, apple sauce, popsicles, soups, mashed potatoes, and other foods that are soft and mushy and cold.
Well, the soup will be cold after I cook it and then chill it.
When I got to the car, I realized I hadn’t gotten pudding.
Do I go back in?
No way. I’ll look like an idiot.
So, I went to the grocery store across the street for it.
Carless and stupid
I’m careless and stupid, and I don’t stick to diets and exercise plans well.
Getting a cashback card for restaurants year-round was a huge mistake.
I go from size 36 jeans to size 42 and back again almost annually.
Since I don’t have much closet space, I end up donating the ill-fitting jeans in Christmas drives.
At this rate, half the Houston homeless population wears my pants.
Well, the slightly overweight to very overweight average-height homeless guys.
I’m not a midget or a whale, you know.
I just feel like a whale… when the size 42s feel a bit tight.
Judge’s chambers
I don’t understand why a judge’s office is called chambers.
Everybody else’s office is called an office.
Why not call it the judge’s office?
And besides, the judge only has one office, so why not call it a chamber?
It sounds like some Dungeons and Dragons kind of thing, a chamber. A creepy chamber.
Like the judge is a monster, and the adventuring party is sneaking in to kill it and steal its gold.
Maybe that’s what they do in the chambers… they fight to try to steal the judge’s gold.
No wonder why they bring their briefcases with them.
Ultrasound gremlins
I’ve been having gastro issues for a week or so, and after a runaround by the clinic, I’ve gotten a virtual visit, some bloodwork done, and an ultrasound scheduled to check out my organs.
But in order to have the ultrasound scans, I can’t eat or drink anything after midnight.
What am I, a gremlin? You can’t feed me after midnight or I’ll turn into an evil version of myself?
I guess I can go take a hot shower before the exam… and as the water hits my skin, it begins to bubble and pop out little balls of fur.
Frosty of Prague
The truth is, Frosty the Snowman doesn’t really need that magician’s top hat to come alive.
If you look closely in Frosty’s mouth, you’ll find a holy scroll commanding him to life.
Consecrated by an old rabbi from Warsaw, it wills the snow to follow its master’s commands.
Unlike the Golem of Prague, Frosty does not go out and murder the community’s enemies.
Instead, he plays with children every winter and lives with Santa at the North Pole the rest of the year.
Sometimes, Santa ponders stuffing his Naughty List in Frosty’s mouth.
Sure would beat a lump of coal.
George’s donations
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He gave red Santa caps to all of his shipmates.
“It’s Christmas,” said George. “It’ll help us get into the holiday spirit.”
He also decorated the mast and rigging with strings of colored lights.
You’d think that this would make it hard for the pirates to sneak up on their intended prey.
But other vessels thought that George’s ship was some kind of Goodwill donation vessel.
And instead of plundering and looting, George’s men asked for donations to poor orphans.
“Well, most of us were orphans,” whispered George, winking.
Swept away under a manger
These days, if you really need to abandon a baby, you are supposed to do it at a fire station or a police station.
You’re not supposed to toss them in a dumpster or leave them in the bathroom at the junior prom.
And you’re especially not supposed to leave them in a Christmas manger scene in front of City Hall.
Not only is it dangerous out there, with wild dogs and coyotes, but it’s probably going to be really cold out there in December.
Unless it’s Florida. Then it might be warm.
For the newborn baby. And the alligators.
George and the Christmas Toys
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
His crew hijacked a Chinese cargo vessel, which was full of Christmas toys.
“We’ll make a pretty penny with this!” shouted the captain, and the whole crew cheered.
Except for George.
He remembered the orphanage, owning nothing but a broken stick that he pretended was a cutlass.
All the kids made fun of “Pirate George.”
He waited until everyone was asleep before he dropped the toys off at the orphanage.
The toys contained dangerous chemicals and lead paint, and all the orphans died.
The orphanage is now a Starbucks.