Category: My stories

I hate Henry.
I wish he was dead.
Everyone knew that.
One day, I got my wish.
Henry’s car exploded.
And Henry was dead.
Dead.
I smiled.
And whispered:
“Thank you.”
To whoever.
Made the bomb.
Set the bomb.
And made Henry dead.
I went to the police.
And I said:
“Are you looking for me?”
They interrogated me
For hours
And hours
I told them nothing.
I just smiled.
They wanted a confession.
Nope.
“I guess you’re not
Looking for me.”
Laughing.
They never found
The bomber.
Because i distracted the cops.
They got away.
Did they thank me?

Bob Marley’s last words to his son Ziggy were: “Money can’t buy life.”
And then he died.
Ziggy was only thirteen.
At first he thought he’d meant that he could take all the Life cereal and Life board games he could grab.
But despite what Mikey says, Life cereal’s kinda bland. And that board game gets really boring after a while.
So, Ziggy practiced.
And then he made music, bought a nice car, bought a nice house or two, and bought a lot of nice things.
No, money can’t buy you life, but you can buy nice stuff for it.

I bought pizza dough, sauce, and a mozzarella ball the other day.
It didn’t take me long to shape out the dough.
While the dough rose, I harvested basil from the patio and washed it.
I rolled the dough flat twice, spread out the sauce, and arranged the basil.
Then I sliced up the mozzarella into thin sheets and laid it on top of the basil.
It only took 10 minutes to bake in the oven.
I cut up the pizza, took a bite, and it was wonderful.
But the cheese slid off too easily. Next time, I’ll shred it.

When I get home after work, I usually put my keys and my door pass in my hat, and then I leave my hat on the side table.
However, I’ve recently bought a set of Hogwarts school ballcaps. I pick one at random in the morning and wear it to work. When i get home from work, I put the Hogwarts hat back in the pile, and the keys and door pass end up in my old hat.
Yep. Forgot the door pass today.
I sit in the lobby and wait for the receptionist to hand me a temporary badge.

Over the years, Andy’s computer has been a collection of all the parts that his friends have left over from when they upgrade their computers.
His battered and broken furniture is a jumble of sofas, tables, chairs, and shelves they replaced with newer stuff.
Andy’s car has always been a clunker that his friends couldn’t get trade-in credit for.
He’s on his fifth wife. All five have been ex-wives of his friends.
Now he’s in the hospital. He desperately needs a heart-lung transplant.
I guess we’ll have to wait and see which of his friends gets into a motorcycle wreck.

The room had a chair and table bolted to the floor.
And the subject chained to the chair.
We’d play a tape of people screaming for a while.
I’d walk in with a bloody belt sander, and I’d ask them a question.
They wouldn’t talk. They never talked.
“Fine,” I’d say, and plugged in the belt sander.
Thumb the switch and revved it.
Sometimes skimming my arm hair.
I’d let them smell the burn.
“Okay, here we go.”
But the cord wouldn’t reach.
“I need an extension cord,” I’d say. “Need anything while I’m up.”
They talked. They always talked.

Frederick’s of Hollywood sold naughty clothing.
Frederick’s of Chicago sold guns.
Frederick’s of New York sold electronics.
Frederick’s of Tokyo sold fish by the bucket.
Frederick’s of Berlin sold clocks.
Frederick’s of Marakesh sold slaves.
Frederick’s of Sydney sold souvenirs.
Frederick’s of Guam sold the best sandwiches. The sign on the front said so.
Frederick’s of San Salvador sold stage magician’s props.
Frederick’s of Bombay sold carpet by the yard.
Frederick’s of Seattle sold coffee.
Frederick’s of Rome sold bus passes.
Frederick’s of Waikiki Beach sold pineapples.
Frederick’s of London sold fancy hats.
And Frederick’s of Juneau sold space heaters.

Cameron always felt uncomfortable about who he was.
Or she was.
Cameron’s parents didn’t understand. Nobody did.
Today, some teens get the support they need. And options.
Surgery and hormone therapy instead of wishes and bitter tears
Back then, kids like Cameron didn’t.
Years of self-loathing and wishes that never came true.
Instead of taking the easy way out, Cameron became a mentor.
So many lives touched and changed.
Cameron died the other day.
Ashes in an urn.
We had them injected into hundreds of breast implants.
For teens to use during transition.
Still guiding the lost to find themselves.

One night, after I had consumed too much coffee, I stayed up for a while and did some cleaning.
The vacuuming was kinda fun. So was cleaning out the bad food from the fridge and the shelves.
But I’ve never been good at cleaning mirrors.
That’s okay. My doppelganger in the Mirror World is just as bad at it as I am.
He uses the same brand of glass cleaner, and an identical rag.
Puts just as much effort into it as I do.
I guess we tried our best, right?
We high-fived each other and…
Where’s that vacuum again?

She called herself a robot, but robots don’t run on windup keys.
That’s more of a toy or dolly thing.
Her serial number had been scratched out, but there’s always other in the chassis.
Runaway status.
“I worked in a hospital in the childrens ward,” she said. “I loved them so much.”
She told me about the games the children would play, the adventures they’d pretend to go on.
“But they never got better. So much pain, and they were so alone.”
If she could cry…
Before I wiped her memory, she kissed me on the cheek and thanked me.