Category: My stories

“Are you staying in Atlanta?” asks the stewardess.
“No,” I say. “But I wish I was.”
We’re flying to Columbus.
I spent ten years there.
I never wanted to go back.
But there’s a conference there and I couldn’t get out of it.
The Visitor’s Bureau consists of one big sign that says “WHY?”
If you can see it through the pollution.
I ask for a ginger ale.
“Sure you don’t want something stronger?”
Maybe if she comes back this way, I’ll get a bottle of Jack.
By the time you feel the smooth whiskey burn, the bottle is empty.

John and Joe look the same, but they’re not twins. They’re not even related.
Joe’s adopted. But their parents made him undergo a bunch of plastic surgeries to look like John.
You can hardly see the scars.
Well, the surgery scars.
Their parents used to beat John whenever he acted up, or didn’t do things exactly like John.
When the drugs wore off and he chewed through the gag, how he used to scream at night.
“Your name is Joe,” they said. “Say it.”
“My name is Linda!” Joe would shout.
More drugs. More surgeries.
John watched, and he laughed.

Dr. Smith says not to sweat the small stuff.
Then he says “It’s all small stuff.”
Of course, Dr. Smith says it’s all small stuff.
Everything is small compared to Dr. Smith.
The guy is almost seven feet of solid muscle.
Plus, he keeps his office cold. Meat locker cold.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him sweat,
If he did, it would freeze like an icicle.
So, I take my pills and come to my sessions.
And I always answer his questions politely.
Because, to him, I’m also small stuff.
And he wouldn’t even break a sweat crushing me.

Have you heard about the power of compound interest?
That’s when you deposit a dollar in the bank, and the interest builds up the principal to earn more interest, until your ending balance is much larger than before.
The problem is that if interest rates are low, or zero, there’s no compound interest.
So, people invest. Too much.
The bubble builds with the overvalued investments, until the bubble bursts.
The scared folks out there end up keeping their money stuffed in their mattress.
This is why I invest in mattress companies.
For people to stuff money under… and sleep better.

Carl Sagan said that to make an apple pie from scratch, first you must invent the universe. So, when God wanted an apple pie, He said “Let there be light” and invented the universe.
After a few thousand years with a few crusades and plagues along the way, God noticed the first apple pie cooling on a windowsill.
“Excellent,” God said, and He flew down to investigate. “Is that apple pie?”
“Yes,” said the woman who cooked it, and she offered God a slice.
God thought it was delicious, but… it needed something.
“Want to invent ice cream?” He asked.

Ever eaten at Tony’s? That restaurant on Sixth and Main?
It’s Tony’s place. He runs it himself.
He’s the chefs, the waiters, and the valet for the parking lot.
Amazing what you can do with cloning technology these days.
Every day, he and his clones draw jobs from a hat.
Just to keep it fair to himself.
It used to be a family business, but Tony kept telling each of his family members that he could do their jobs better.
And he could. So he did.
Just be sure to tip him well.
Otherwise, they’ll all spit in your food.

Usually when I travel to a conference or go on vacation, I buy a ballcap with a local sports team logo on it so I can blend in.
When I went to Portland, I got a green Oregon Ducks hat.
When I went to Phoenix Arizona, I got a black hat with Devils on it, for the Arizona State Sun Devils.
However, when I went to Columbus Ohio for a writer’s conference, I didn’t buy a hat.
I lived here for ten years.
I don’t want to blend in.
I just want to get the fuck out of here.
Again.

The complex says that they will fix the air conditioning today.
It’s been nearly two weeks.
The part they needed didn’t arrive until Monday.
But it was storming Tuesday, so they couldn’t start until Wednesday.
An optimist would say that this is the perfect time of year for it.
A pessimist would say why the fuck didn’t you rip the part of of a unit that isn’t occupied and put it in ours?
Never underestimate the stupidity of humans in positions of responsibility.
Tinny is asleep in my lap. She doesn’t give a damn.
I turn the fan on high.

Lou was our agent in the field.
He spread out a blanket in the field, sat down, and took a nap.
Unless it was raining. Then he’d nap in his car.
“Is there anything going on?” we’d ask Lou, checking on him.
“One second,” he say, and look around. “Nope. Nothing at all.”
“Good work,” we’d say.
Lou really liked working in the field.
Even though it wasn’t much work at all, really.
At the end of the day, Lou would get up, fold up the blanket, and drive back home.
Unless it was raining. Then he’d just drive home.

I can’t remember the maid’s name.
Maybe it was Venezuela, or Rosita, or Maria.
She cleaned every Tuesday.
Which meant that any time we made a mess Wednesday morning, my mother would yell at us louder than usual.
Almost as loud Thursday, maybe a bit less loud on Friday.
All the way to Monday night, which was pretty much “Eh, the maid will get it.”
And she did. The mess would be gone by the time we got home from school Tuesday afternoon.
God forbid we made a mess Tuesday evening.
We went straight to our rooms, hiding and cowering.