Category: My stories

I defollowed the Trump supporters, because they supported a serial fraudster and failed businessman riding a reality-television popularity wave.

I defollowed the Cruz supporters, because they supported a homophobic misogynistic evangelical hypocrite.

I defollowed the Sanders supporters, because they supported an unprincipled charlatan who ran as a Democrat only for the campaign money and party mechanism.

And I defollowed the Clinton supporters, because they supported a amoral failed diplomat with blood on her hands, who vilified victims of rape and sexual abuse while claiming poverty from within a New York mansion.

My timelines empty, I took up gardening.

Mmmmmmmmm… peppermint!

Here, in The Kingdom, we swear our loyalty to The Crown.
No, not The King. The King is just the man who wears The Crown.
The Crown uses The King as a host, speaking through the body and consuming it slowly.
Until a new King is needed.
Prisoners from the jail.
The sick. The old.
And those who refuse to swear their loyalty to The Crown.
You can try to resist The Crown’s power, but it’ll just hurt more.
Give in.
Let The Crown take over.
Just as it has taken The Kingdom over.
And wisely ruled us for centuries.

In a fight between Batman and Superman, who wins?
Not me.
I’m an insurance agent. And I have clients in Gotham and Metropolis.
Every time these goons go at it, my phone rings off the hook.
The dead, the injured. Life insurance claims. Medical claims.
Property claims, too. Collapsed buildings. Totaled cars. Shattered windows.
And looting. Always the looting.
Every new policy I resell now includes Batman and Superman under “Acts of God.”
I guess it’s impossible to sue Batman and Superman.
The phone rings. Must be another fight.
I pick up the phone.
“Wayne Industries Insurance Agency,” I answer.

Bob started his own business a while back.
He’s sick of paying taxes, so he looked into an offshore tax haven.
He bought a boat, loaded his company on to it, and pulled up the anchor.
“NO MORE TAXES!” he cheered. “SCREW YOU, AMERICA!”
Things went okay for about a day, until government lawyers showed up.
“This extension cord is plugged into an American power source,” they said. “And your cell phone uses an American cell tower.”
So, he mounted solar panels, bought a satellite phone, and proudly cheered again.
Until he hit a rock and needed the Coast Guard.

My team doesn’t tells me when something changes.
It’s not that they forget to tell me.
When I walk into the room, they stop talking.
Or, if it’s important, they stop me in the hall and just stare at me.
Then they follow up with blank emails and memos.
Once, they hired a singing telegram, and the dancing girl stood there and stared at me.
Then, they hired a skywriter to fly his airplane around without releasing any smoke.
Another airplane flew around without a trailing banner.
As long as they keep filling out my paychecks properly, I don’t mind.

I bought a memory foam mattress.
It’s comfortable. And I sleep well.
At least I thought I did.
Turns out, I toss and turn all night.
But the foam absorbs my memories.
So I forget the discomfort and restlessness. And the pain.
That would be fine, as long as I don’t forget anything else.
I assume that the memories aren’t totally gone.
They’re in the mattress. Deep in there.
Years of lost sleep.
Years of my life, good and bad.
Years of time with you.
Whoever you are, because for the life of me, I can’t remember who you are.

We release new versions of the software every four months.
At the end of the development cycle, we declare a feature freeze.
Then, we test all of the features of the software to make sure it all works.
Once we finish testing, we release it to the public.
Developers and companies who need advance copies of features in development can join the bleeding edge releases.
That way, they can test against the upcoming features.
What? We’re changing to three month cycles?
And some day, maybe even two-week cycles?
I get out my aspirin bottle.
Ah, aspirin. Some things never change.

Ships leave once a month to carry men sentenced to transportation.
Exile to Australia.
The trip from England to Australia is a long one, and perilous.
Some crew stab their passengers mid-journey.
Others throw them overboard into the ocean.
A few show mercy, and release them in Africa or some island.
The crew then estimates how long it would take to get to Australia, resupply, and then head back home.
And they go on a vacation.
Whores in Madrid? Wine in Paris?
Whatever, as long as it doesn’t involve smelly, evil prisoners.
Until they need to go back for more.

I looked out my office window at the next building over.
Their flag is at half mast.
I don’t know of anyone famous that has died recently. Or any local disasters.
Maybe someone at their office died.
That’s a shame.
So, is there a job opening?
Or maybe someone’s husband died… are they hot? Or a rich widow? Or widower?
Maybe I should go over there and offer my condolences.
And bring something… maybe flowers?
They have some nice flowers in the landscaping around the flagpole.
I could pick some of those.
But I’ll wait until lunch to do it.

When Jackie was growing up, other kids would tell him “Tell us a joke, man!”
So, Jackie became Jackie the Joke Man.
He tried to turn it into a job, but he struggled.
Folks would say “Jackie, you’re a joke, man!”
He stuck with it, toured and made albums, wrote for popular television and radio shows, and made a decent living.
Now, the young comedians steal his material, and audiences accuse Jackie of stealing their material?
Jackie doesn’t like that shit, and he tracks them down.
“Okay, put down that gun!” they scream. “I’ll pay you for your joke, man!”