Category: My stories

I liked The Lord of The Rings movies. And I liked The Hobbit trilogy, but not as much.
I saw all six movies in the neighborhood theater, but they were so long, I had to rush to the bathroom at some point during each one.
There’s websites out there that say when the best time to go is, but I never have to go right at that point.
So, as much as a large soda causes the problem, it’s also a part of the solution.
As long as I remember to wash it out before I get the free refill.

When I was little, my mother would lay on her back and lift me in the air.
I’d spread my arms, and pretend I was a a jet airplane.
“ZOOOOOOOOOOM!” said my mother.
“ZOOOOOOOOOOM!” I repeated. “I’m an airplane!”
“Now flap your arms,” my mother said. “You’re a bird. A big bird.”
I’d flap my arms and pretend I was a bird, flying high in the air.
And then…
“Put me down!” I’d shout. “Put me down.”
So, my mother lowered me to the ground.
Then I ran into the garage, dropped my pants, and shit on the car’s windshield.

“Where is the ring?” demanded Great Sauron.
After days of torture, the creature Gollum screamed “SHIRE! BAGGINS!”
Sauron sent out orcs to investigate.
Several weeks later, the orcs returned.
“Sorry, boss,” they said. “But we couldn’t find any place called Baggins.”
If Sauron could slap his face with his palm, he would.
“The place is called Shire, dumbasses,” said Sauron.
“Oh,” said the orcs. “Right.”
Sauron watched them leave and sighed.
“I should have made two rings to rule them all,” he muttered. “Next time, I’m making a backup.”
The Ringwraiths howled and swooped.
Sauron sent them out for pizza.

I wrote a note, put it in a bottle, and sealed it with a cork.
Then, I drove to the beach and parked the car.
It took a few minutes to walk to the shore.
The gulls were gliding in the breeze, circling over and over.
With all of my strength, I threw the bottle as far as I could into the water.
The bottle smashed against a rock.
I shrugged, walked back to the car, and drove home.
It’s not like they would have been able to read the note.
I was really, really drunk when I wrote it.

Jim Henson found great success with Kermit the Frog, but he didn’t start with a green felt coat and a ping pong ball.
At first, Jim covered his hand with rubber cement and lit it on fire. He called it “Whoosh the Fire Guardian”, and as much as the kids loved it, it hurt like a son of a bitch.
Jim stopped lighting the rubber cement on fire, but he did roll his hand in broken glass. “Glitter the Huggable Fairy” got a lot of complaints from parents.
And then came Kermit.
Kinda boring. Well, when he’s not on fire.

It’s hard to tell when someone comes out of a deep coma.
For a while, they’re awake, but not quite aware or alert.
But then, can you really tell when someone else is there or not?
Fred was in deep for a few months before he came back out.
It took about two weeks of physical therapy before he could walk again.
Sure enough, as he was crossing the street, another bus hit him.
This time, he was down for good.
We dress him up in a clown outfit, makeup and all.
And wheel him around the pediatric oncology ward.

The Lottery Commissioner scanned Ted’s ticket.
“It’s good,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”
They shook hands, and eventually, Ted fell asleep on the sofa.
The next day, Ted woke up to the most spectacular sunrise he’d ever seen.
Manhattan penthouse view, surrounded by windows.
Butlers offering him breakfast, setting out clothes for the day.
Ted suffered endless interviews while celebrities and partiers filled the air with music and laughter.
“Yeah, it’s great,” lied Ted, wanting to enjoy the moment instead of talk about it.
Afterwards, he fell asleep to a gorgeous sunset view, and woke up on his own sofa.

My grandfather ran a cooperative grocery warehouse.
We’d walk along narrow twisted passages between the shelves and stacked crates.
Candy and gum were kept in a loft, and we’d fill our pockets Garbage Can-dy.
Those were small plastic trash cans filled with tiny candy fish bone and banana peel shapes.
My grandfather would ask us if we took anything, and we’d always say no.
But he knew. Inventory never lies.
Topps Candy discontinued the Garbage Can-dy here, but you can still order it from Canada.
But I won’t.
Not out of guilt, mind you.
I like Sweet Tarts much better.

It’s two in the morning, and trumpeters are out on the streets, trumpeting.
They have bright, shiny trumpets.
They have clean, fancy uniforms.
From their snazzy shoes, all the way up to their magnificent hats.
They’re strolling down the avenue, casual and relaxed.
The air fills with the sound of trumpets. So many trumpets.
And it’s horrible. So noisy.
Because bright, shiny trumpets and clean, fancy uniforms don’t make trumpeters.
Knowing how to play a trumpet makes you a trumpeter.
Some people spray water hoses. Others throw rocks.
Buckle your seat belt. Let’s see how many we can run over.

I love the smell of incense.
I have closets full of the stuff, and I’m always burning it to make an aromascape of my house.
I can walk around from room to room, navigating just by smell.
I go on trips to find new and rare incense aromas.
A temple on a mountaintop in India had the most amazing scented incense.
I tried to buy it, but the high priest said it was cursed and not for sale.
So, I stole it, and brought it home.
My house burned down while I slept.
But as it did, it smelled amazing.