Category: My stories

Ted told the truth, and only the truth.
He could put his hand on a Bible, and swear to tell the truth, and people believed him.
Maybe he took it a little too far sometimes.
Doing it before ordering in a restaurant, the whole hand-on-Bible swearing thing.
Or when answering the phone.
It’s not like the person on the other end of the line could see him with his hand on the Bible.
When Ted died, he had a mirror as a headstone.
With the words “ONE DAY I WILL DIE” engraved on it.
True to the end, he was.

Where did you go, Superman?
What happened?
Do you get homesick?
Wherever you went, we miss you.
And not just because you save us, all of us, so often.
But because you are so good.
A good person. A good soul.
Someone we all look up to.
Maybe fear a little, but still, we respect you.
There will always be a place for you.
Just come back, and everything will be okay.
We promise not to try to hurt you again.
That was a mistake.
No hard feelings, right?
Just put the moon back in orbit, and all is forgiven.

A developer announced their two weeks.
I’d noticed that they’d been de-decorating their office.
That’s usually a good sign that they’re clearing off soon.
And sure enough, they did.
Been noticing quite a bit of that as of late.
Me, when my time comes, I’m just going to take a few clocks home, maybe the hydroponics, and the baseball caps, of course.
Let ’em put the rest in a pile in the parking garage and burn it.
The fun is not in keeping things, but obtaining them.
Once you have it, you have to dust it.
I hate dusting.
Blech.

Fat, tired, and sick… I can’t go on like this.
Doctor says I need to cut down on snacks and sweets.
So, instead of a whole package of Oreos, only one cookie for me.
And only one.
Even though you open the box, take one, and it’s so hard to stop with one.
Because doctor’s orders.
Which cookie will I get?
So many to choose from.
Know the place in the mall that makes those big cookies with the frosting?
Yeah, I got one of those.
But at least when I finish it, I don’t need a second one, right?

It’s nice to walk through the woods.
I go for a walk every night.
Sometimes, I walk into one woods and out of another.
It used to be confusing, trying to find out which woods I ended up at.
Looking for a sign. A marker.
And then I’d walk into those woods, trying to get back home.
Sometimes, it takes hours.
Other times, it takes days… weeks…
I got a phone with GPS.
Now I know where I end up.
But it still takes time to find my way home.
I just don’t feel as lost, knowing where I am.

The monks can teach you anything.
All it takes is one lesson.
Just knock on the door of the monastery, wait for the monks to open the door, and walk inside.
They’ll take it from there.
How long does a lesson take?
It depends on what you want to learn.
Maybe an hour.
Maybe a day.
Maybe a year.
Maybe the rest of your life.
But you won’t know until you go to the monastery and knock on the door.
So, what is it that you want to learn?
Where is the monastery?
Oh, that’s easy. Here is a map.

Every time we’d visit my grandparents, they’d drag out the roller coaster toy from the closet.
We’d put it together, adjusting the scotch tape that kept two broken pieces together, and stuck in some batteries.
Slide the switch, and the chain would pull the little cars up the ramp and let them loose down a winding track.
And back up the ramp they went.
It took half an hour to assemble, and it was only interesting for maybe a minute.
I knew I’d grown up a bit when I stopped asking about the rollercoaster.
Boring habits are easy to break.

How long have you had that phone?
We can look that up, you know.
Walk in to the store, your phone looks for WiFi, and we know you’re here.
We look up your name, your device information, your credit rating.
Your browser history, to see if you’re looking for a new phone.
And looking at our competition, of course.
Oh, and how often you have to charge your phone.
In case we can upsell you a battery pack or two.
Maybe a smart watch. And a tablet.
We do value your privacy.
As much as we can sell it for.

Early in life, Melvin showed a talent for sorting.
He sorted his socks, his papers, everything.
His parents would have him sort mixed salad and mixed vegetables at dinner parties.
The university gave him high marks in sorting, and the government hired him to sort things out.
There were protests about racism and sexism and all kinds of isms, but after a while, people realized that Melvin’s sorting actually made things better.
People got along better with people like themselves.
No wars, no crimes. Everyone was happy.
It’s hard to have a hate-crime when there’s nobody different around to hate.

Piers Morgan woke up, identified as an elephant, and went to the bathroom.
It was a tight fit, being an elephant, but he managed to get in.
He crushed the toilet and broke the mirror.
His shower head was on a hose, but it didn’t quite reach all over his body.
He ended up filling the tub and using his trunk to hose himself down.
Drying off with five bath towels, he squeezed back out of the bathroom, checked his voicemail, and went back to bed.
The bed creaked with his weight, and his snores echoed off of the walls.