George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was a good active listener, though.
Active listening is different from passive listening, because you’re not just saying “Uh huh” and nodding your head.
You’re repeating back key phrases and showing an interest in what they’re saying, prompting for more.
The other pirates would tell George their problems, and he’d listen, and keep the conversation moving forward.
Pretty soon, George learned a lot about his fellow shipmates and their lives.
He came to realize that they were all scallawags, brigands, and thieves.
You know, because they were pirates.
Category: My stories
St. Amateur Night
It’s St. Patrick’s Day.
St. Patrick’s Day is Amateur Night for drunks. Stay away from the pubs.
Just like Valentine’s Day is Amateur Night for lovers.
Stay away from the restaurants. And flower shops.
Black Friday is Amateur Night for shoppers.
Stay away from the malls. Shop online, until the online stores crash, and you can’t go there anymore.
Christmas? New Year’s Halloween?
They’re all Amateur Night.
Every night is Amateur Night here.
Except one.
There’s only one night for the professionals: April Twelfth.
Nothing happens then.
Nothing that you know of, that is.
Nothing that we let you know.
Click Clack
Jack compulsively flicks his lighter open and shut.
Jane compulsively flicks a switchblade open and shut.
They do this everywhere: at the diner, at the bar, while walking on the street.
Especially when they walk on the street.
There’s a rhythm to it. They’re in sync.
Click clack. Click clack. Click clack.
All day long.
they took baths instead of showers so they could keep flicking and clicking.
Jack would refill his lighter.
Jane would sharpen her switchblade.
And then they’d flick them open and closed again.
Sitting there at the retirement home.
Click clack. Click clack.
All day long.
Poor Dan
At first, Dan kept saying “I cannot believe my eyes!”
Then, he’d say “I cannot believe my ears!”
Rarely did he say that he could not believe his nose, tongue, or skin.
I guess he didn’t smell, taste, or feel much.
It was when Dan said “I cannot believe my accountant!” that he was in trouble.
Dan was way behind in paying his taxes.
“I cannot believe my lawyer!” said Dan as he was dragged out of court and off to jail.
Let’s just say that his cellmate made sure that Dan believed that he was in jail.
Poor Dan.
Build the wall
Instead of building a wall along the border, why not something fun?
Perhaps a ball pit, like they have at Chuck E Cheese and McDonalds.
Then, families trying to cross the border will have to fish their kids back out of it.
“COME ON, MOM!” they will shout. “FIVE MORE MINUTES! PLEASE?”
And then it will get dark, and they’ll have to get home.
If they leave the kids behind, they will sink to the bottom of the ball pit.
And fall through chutes to The Organ Havresting Factory.
Oops. I meant to say The Ice Cream and Unicorns Room.
The Voltmaster Laughing
“Follow the wires.”
These are the first three words that every child in Mirkwood learns.
They look up at the gigantic mains that pass near every village, and down to the substation as the voltage is stepped down.
“Follow the wires, and you will find The Voltmaster.”
He used to harvest his power from the clouds, but with the help of giants and ogres and dwarves, he constructed a dam across The Eternal Falls.
Within, machinery like windmills, but for water, convert the flow into energy.
Precious energy.
The lights flicker, then return.
They say this is The Voltmaster laughing.
Cladimer Zook
Until we find three witches, we cannot hold the funeral of Cladimer Zook.
It’s simply too dangerous to allow his unbound spirit to roam at night.
As long as his body is wrapped in The Emerald Shroud, we’ll be safe.
But the owner of The Emerald Shroud charges us monthly for its use, and it’s not like we are made out of money.
Unlike the Silvergold Legion, who are made out of money.
Oh, Zook, you fool. Not to make arrangements.
Nobody lives forever.
To amass such power, you knew the consequences.
One day, a wizard. The next, an abomination.
Squirrelfeeder
We had a hawthorn tree in the back yard, and my dad hung a birdfeeder from one of the branches.
The birds flew from all around to eat the birdseed, but there were also a lot of squirrels coming to eat.
My dad would get angry and yell at the squirrels, and he’d fill a bucket with ice to throw at the squirrels.
“Go chase those squirrels away!” he’d yell at us.
And, for a while, throwing ice cubes at squirrels was fun.
But futile.
So, I stopped thinking of it as a birdfeeder. And, instead, it became a squirrelfeeder.
Stress and plants
They say that plants can relieve stress.
So, I tried to raise some plants at home and in my office, but I couldn’t keep them alive.
Not enough light… not enough water… too much water…
They just caused even more stress.
So, I got some of those automatic hydroponic plant systems.
Just add plant food and water when the system tells you to add them.
They handle all of the rest.
They cost a bloody fortune. And my electric bill went through the roof.
And so did my stress.
Now I just have plastic plants.
I haven’t over-watered them yet.
Never Had
Never had a kid.
Never held my baby in my arms.
My baby.
So precious.
No first tooth.
No first words, first steps.
First day at school.
None at all.
No report cards, nothing but A’s.
Or F’s.
Detentions.
Run-ins with the police.
That’s no so bad, really.
Never having to bail your kid out.
Or identify their body.
Waiting for a match on the transplant list.
As they get sicker… and sicker… and sicker…
Is it selfish of me?
Not to want to feel any of that?
Not to take a chance?
Maybe.
When someone took one on me?