Category: My stories

Do you prefer Coke in a bottle, can, 2-liter plastic container, or on tap?
Dr. Odd doesn’t like it from any of those.
So, he mixes it himself in his lab.
It wasn’t hard for him to figure out the formula. He is a mad scientist, after all.
The hard part was finding the one planet in the universe with oceans of that exact formula.
A tiny wormhole brings him the syrup, and it mixes with carbonated water from another wormhole dispenser.
The Jack Daniels, he adds from the bottle.
Because the only place you can get that is Earth.

Forget about that… we have bigger fish to fry.
Is a shark a fish? Yes? Okay, then we have bigger fish to fry.
Although we don’t have a deep fryer big enough for a shark.
Or a big enough skillet.
We’ve got a baking sheet big enough, but we don’t have an oven big enough to bake it.
Why do we have such a big baking sheet if we don’t have an oven big enough for it?
Can you grill a shark? Or roast it on a spit?
Maybe we should cut the shark into smaller pieces and fry it?

On March 30, 1981, during an assassination attempt on President Ronald Reagan, White House Press Secretary James Brady was shot in the head.
He was rushed to the hospital in grave condition.
Several hours later, most media outlets reported that Brady had died.
Despite the fact that the trauma surgeons had saved his life.
Brady fought hard to survive and recover.
No, he never returned to his job.
But he did return to the White House Briefing Room.
The audience of reporters and correspondents applauded him, those same despicable vultures who rushed to pick at his twitching corpse for headlines.

It is Holocaust Remembrance Day.
And we say NEVER AGAIN!
There are some that wish that Hitler had finished the job. AGAIN! they shout.
And others deny that it happened at all. NEVER! they shout.
What amazes me is that you’ll find someone who believes both.
Both lies taught by the same teachers to classrooms full of young hateful monsters.
The result is someone who shouts AGAIN! and also NEVER!
Believing and exposing both of these evils at the same time.
So, I stopped saying NEVER AGAIN!
Instead, I say we reopen the camps, and gas those crazy monstrous assholes.

Sally sells sea shells by the sea shore.
She is the only sea shell seller by the sea shore.
She has the sea shell market cornered.
Every morning, Sally and her contracted prison laborers go to the shore and collect up all of the sea shells.
If you try to go to the beach and collect your own, Sally will ask you nicely for your shell.
If you refuse, she might offer to buy it from you for a quarter.
But if you insist on keeping the sea shell, her goons will throw you into the sea and you’ll drown.

Ted wasn’t a very good employee, and his supervisor constantly reprimanded him and gave poor performance reviews.
One day, the supervisor said “We’re need to have a ‘Come to Jesus’ moment here.”
Ted went back to his desk, put on a Roman centurion costume, picked up a spear, and went back to his supervisor’s office.
“I know you’re busy,” he said. “We’ll skip the whole crown of thorns, whipping, and nailing to a cross part, okay?”
And then he stabbed his supervisor in the gut.
There wasn’t a rock to bury the supervisor under, so Ted used a filing cabinet.

The best thing about Pluto’s demotion from planet to dwarf planet was Sailor Pluto being stripped of her status, too.
Literally stripped. All of the Sailors gathered together, and they slowly stripped the former Sailor Pluto until the hot young college student was left naked and powerless.
And then they took turns spanking her.
Never mind that Sailor Moon and Chibi Sailor Moon don’t represent planets. They represent the Moon, right?
Better strip them down, too.
Oh, and then they could all take a bath together, too.
And this is why Neil DeGrasse Tyson isn’t allowed to write fan fiction.

When I win the lottery, I’m going to hire a gang of birthday clowns, and have them follow me everywhere like a posse.
A posse of clowns, in their makeup and baggy pants and floppy shoes, making balloon animals and squirting flowers and annoying the hell out of everyone.
We rough it up with other lottery winners and their posses.
Of mimes. Of Renaissance Fair fortune-tellers. Of chiropractors.
And we fight. Boy, do we fight.
We fight like… well… a pack of clowns.
There are a lot of casualties.
I pour out a forty-ounce of seltzer water on the curb.

People are always saying that the barbarians are at the gate.
Of course they are. It’s Barbarian Airlines, and everyone knows that you need to be at the gate at least 45 minutes prior to departure.
Oh, sure, they might have some trouble with Security, and parking is such a hassle, but as long as they’re at the gate 45 minutes prior to departure, they’ll be fine.
Now, the standby barbarians, those are the real problem. One or two get seats and upgrades, but the rest…
Close the door!
Push back from the gate!
And let’s get out of here!

Failure is not an option. Failure is not an option. Failure is our goal.
Failure, Idaho may not sound like a great place to live, and you’d be right.
It’s a horrible place to live.
The water is poisonous and the air is toxic.
That’s why we brought water and breathing masks.
We get in, grab as much of the money left in the bank’s vault, and get the hell out.
If anybody’s guarding it, they weren’t going to last much longer. Killing them is a mercy.
What if they want to come along?
We’re robbers, not the Red Cross.