Category: My stories

The war was over. Germany had lost.
And a lot of Berlin delicatessens who had named sandwiches after Hitler had to make some drastic menu changes in 1945.
“Hi, Franz.”
“Hi, Rolf. What’ll you have?”
“Oh, my usual. The Hitler.”
“Sorry, we call it the Hoagie now.”
“Is it still seven wheelbarrows of Reichmarks?”
“Yes, but cheese is one wheelbarrow extra.”
“So expensive!”
“No milk to make cheese. They had to shoot the cows.”
“Oh, so it is. Coleslaw comes with it?”
“That or potato salad.”
“Okay, fine.”
Instead of sandwich wraps and napkins, they used Reichmarks.
They were cheaper.

So, if you like asking your HR staff insane questions, try this one: “If I built a robot that beats the Turing test, can I declare it as a dependent?”
If they say that you cannot declare robots as dependents, reply with “How do you KNOW that it’s a robot I keep in this cardboard box, and it’s not my son?”
They might respond “Why would you keep your son in a box?”
And you could say “Maybe he’s really ugly?
Or he’s shy?
Or really sensitive to light?”
I bet there’s a special form for that kind of thing.

If Daedalus could build functional wings out of the debris strewn about in the Labyrinth, why couldn’t he just build a goddamned minotaur-killing machine?
Well, the truth is, that was his first project.
He gathered up the bones of the minotaur’s victims, wood, wax, feathers, and twine.
From these, he fashioned an elaborate minotaur-killing war eagle.
Winding up the device, it thrashed and flapped about.
Then, it flew out of the Labyrinth.
“Well, shit, Dad,” said Icarus. “I hope there’s material left for us.”
As we all know the story, there was.
Just not enough left over for emergency parachutes.

For years, I worked in an office without a window.
I liked the dark and the quiet.
And I thought I’d be scared of heights.
Every time I went into another office with a window, I’d look out the window and get vertigo.
So, I didn’t want an office with a window.
Then, when one was available, on a whim, I moved into a corner office with a lot of windows.
And I liked it.
It was bright on sunny days, and interesting on cloudy or rainy days.
The freeway traffic is like the ocean sounds.
I nap more easily.

Back in the old neighborhood, Aaron’s house was on the corner.
It was bigger than other houses, and had a kind of Addamms Family kinda feel to it.
He had a tuxedo cat named Cleo, and there was a spideweb by the front door with a black widow spider.
The way Cleo was, it was safer to try to pet the spider.
There were other kids on the block, and I remember going to their houses to play, and them coming to ours.
A few moved away, then we moved away, and it all looks so small on Google Maps.

Just because I am smart, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you are dumb.
Just because I am tall, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you are short.
Just because I am beautiful, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you are ugly.
Just because I am rich, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you are poor.
Just because I am thin, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you are fat.
Just because I am fast, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you are slow.
Just because I am alive…
Well… okay. You are, in fact, dead.
You dumb, short, ugly, poor, fat, slow fuck.
Good riddance.

Raoul and Esmerelda made such a nice couple.
But they could never be together.
Raoul says Taco Tuesday.
“My family has tacos every Tuesday! It’s tradition!”
Esmerelda says Taco Thursday.
“My family had tacos every Thursday! It’s tradition!”
They nearly broke up over it.
“Why not have tacos on Tuesday and Thursday?” said the town’s priest.
The crisis was over! The whole town celebrated as they planned their wedding.
On Sunday, of course.
Then, while on their honeymoon, they ordered tacos.
“Soft tortilla or hard shell?” asked the waitress.
They came home, and the town priest worked up the anulment.

Harry was a happy guy.
He kept a little black book with everybody’s name and what made them happy.
Some people knew what made them happy, and they told Harry.
Others kept it a secret because they were ashamed of what made them happy.
Harry didn’t judge. but he was persistent.
Eventually, everyone told Harry what made them happy.
Then, Harry would leave a letter on their doorstep.
No, it wasn’t what made the person happy.
It contained instructions on how to keep from being exposed.
Blackmail is such a dirty word, but it makes Harry happy.
And very rich.

Way back when, I was her babysitter.
I was eighteen, she was eight.
I kept her safe.
Ten years later, she comes to me,
Says she loves me. Always loved me.
I tell her no, and I leave her crying.
Every ten years, the same thing.
She comes to me, she loves me, has always loved me.
Well, then another ten years won’t hurt anything.
Decade after decade, she manages to find me.
You only get so much time.
And mine ran out.
I woke up to the smell of brimstone.
Will she follow me here, too?
I hope not.

In the Bible, it says that Daniel found himself in a cave with a lion.
And because he showed compassion to the lion by removing a thorn from its paw, the lion did not eat Daniel when the man faced that same lion in the Coliseum.
Or was it a mouse that removed the thorn?
It certainly wasn’t a thorn in a mouse’s paw. That’s silly.
Nobody throws people to the mice in the Coliseum.
Was it the Nemean Lion? I think that was Hercules.
Whatever. I’m going to lay down with this lamb and go to sleep.
Good night.