Category: My stories

Be careful when you get a laugh at Mindy Felton’s expense.
She’ll make you fill out an expense report.
Those are a pain to fill out, because you have to itemize and justify every laugh.
Don’t forget the receipts, either. No per diems allowed.
Copy and attach them to your form.
Then you have to get it approved.
“Why couldn’t you get a laugh at your own expense?” management will demand.
If you manage to get approval, then you have to deal with the taxes.
Most accountants won’t touch these kinds of cases.
Best not to laugh at Mindy at all.

If God has angels and saints, what does The Devil have?
“Fallen angels,” says the priest, as he goes through his checklist.
Bible. Crucifix. Holy water. The basics.
A wad of cash for bail, spare phone battery and charger cord.
A pack of gum comes in handy.
Garlic, a gun loaded with silver bullets… those are strictly off the books.
When you get to hyacinth petals for the Wookooloo, that’s where things get strange.
“There’s shit from China and India that’ll make your eyes bleed,” he says.
I nod, and do my best to hide my tail under my trenchcoat.

I was only four years old when Nixon resigned.
And the Vietnam War raged on half a world away.
For me, it was the summer after kindergarten.
I never knew anything going on.
Life was Sesame Street and summer camp.
A tire swing in the willow tree.
Catching fireflies in the evening so they’d flash in a jar all night long.
An AMC Pacer in the driveway.
Big Wheels in a bin by the garage.
We couldn’t ride them in the street.
We turned them upside-down on the sidewalk, worked the pedals, and spun the big wheel.
All summer long.

I don’t understand the Army-Navy game.
They say it’s a rivalry, but shouldn’t they be learning to work together?
You know, because they should be working together to defend our country and kill our enemies.
And why are they playing football? Or basketball? Or any other sport?
Why aren’t they learning to shoot guns, fire mortars, sail ships, fire torpedoes, and fly planes?
When was the last time we had to defend our country with a football or a basketball?
Take off the football helmet, pick up a gun, and put on a combat helmet.
And fight the real enemy!

I was morbidly obese, so I needed to lose weight.
All you need to do is reduce calorie intake and exercise more.
That worked for me.
All of the fad diets are a marketing scam.
Atkins diet, Paleo diet, South Beach diet.
Someone comes up with a magical formula, and they get rich off of your hunger and suffering.
The greatest scam was the Diet of Worms that King Charles recommended to Martin Luther.
Several of Martin’s loyal followers died as a result of it, and it nearly led to his death, too.
Did Martin Luther end up rich?
Nope.

Recently, I was fitted for invisaligns.
These are clear plastic trays that act like braces, but don’t use all that metal and rubber band crap.
People can barely notice that you have them snapped in.
The problem is, my teeth are yellow and stained. So people can see my yellowed and stained teeth.
My dentist won’t bleach my teeth and replace my bonding until after the invisalign treatments are done.
In two years.
I asked if I could get white trays instead of clear trays.
“Then they wouldn’t be invisaligns,” they said. “They’d be whitealigns.”
I need a new dentist.

TS Eliot wrote famously that he measured his life out in coffee spoons.
I’m sure this led to him being late to a lot of important meetings, crucial appointments, and dinner dates.
How do you measure time in coffee spoons?
Maybe he stuck the spoon in the ground and used it like a sundial.
Or he threatened passers-by with his spoons and demanded to know the time.
WHAT TIME IS IT?
WHAT DAY IS IT?
Now that I think of it, a man who threatens others with spoons isn’t very likely to get asked to all that many dinner dates.

I’ve found from experience that praying to solve a problem doesn’t solve anything.
In fact, it makes things worse.
Not just because praying wastes time that you could otherwise use to come up with a solution.
When was the last time you solved a math problem with prayer?
Pick up a fucking calculator, you dipshit.
Not only does prayer not solve the problem, but it annoys God.
He’s the Almighty Creator, not a third-grade math teacher.
Add the five and the seven, carry the one.
There. You got it.
Save the prayer for something important next time.
Like long division.

It’s amazing how quickly a preacher will turn from preaching love and brotherhood to revenge and bloodshed when you touch his daughter.
Is she an adult? Damn straight, she’s an adult.
The things she can do with her tongue…
The hellfire and brimstone hypocrite reaches past his bible for the shotgun.
Now’s not the time to tell him “She came on to me!”
Now’s the time to run. Run like Hell.
And if you want to pray, pray.
Pray that he didn’t load it, or it jams.
“Call me!” she shouts at your back, as you hear the first blast.

Even though you may think that it’s sexist to use the term “mailman” instead of the gender-neutral terms “mailperson” or “letter carrier” the truth is that no matter what gender ratios the Postal Service uses for hiring quotas, much like the clownfish and other unusual coral reef-dwelling species, the staff that runs delivery routes for letters and packages undergoes a metamorphosis which slowly transforms all of them into the male gender.
The Postal Service denies any involvement, because the biological agents they force staff to drink is supposed to render their letter carriers into neutered, docile homonculi, not all men.