Category: My stories

Stan hated his dead end job.
He was paid by the city to hold up a DEAD END sign at the end of the street.
At least he got 2 weeks off a year, medical, dental, and a pension.
Ralph, who had the night shift, was non-union. He had medical, but with a big co-pay.
They had seniority, though. The weekend guy had to cover for Stan and Ralph when they were sick.
The contractor wanted to replace them with illegal aliens, who were cheaper, but the union fought it.
In the end, they were replaced by a metal post.

I don’t understand why people say that a piano player is “tickling the ivories” when they play the piano.
I make pianos for a living, and I can report as fact that the white ivory keys are not ticklish.
Neither are the black ebony keys.
This is why you can dust a piano’s keys with a feather duster, and it won’t laugh.
In fact, none of the piano feels a damned thing.
The piano bench, on the other hand, is an oversensitive little prick.
That’s why we fill it with music books and sit on it to keep it shut.

I don’t like stories about how frustrating it is to write stories.
It’s a cop-out. It’s shying away from those holes in reality through which I look through to see the real world behind this one.
It’s whining and bitching about how hard it is to write.
How hard can it be? I’ve written for ten years, and I have yet to miss a day.
If I can do it, you can do it.
Except…. today has been so busy. And I’m totally worn out from all the bullshit I had to deal with.
Maybe just this one time’s okay.

San Francisco is an expensive place.
And I’m not just talking about the taxes.
Real estate is horribly expensive there, and it’s just getting more expensive.
And if it’s expensive to live there, it’s expensive to work there.
Office space is at a premium. And that Starbucks around the corner is on expensive ground.
So is the McDonalds. And the corner grocery.
So they charge more. Which means that the employees demand more so they can pay for their coffee.
Everybody charges each other more. And more. And more.
So, move out. Move to Austin. It’s cheaper there.
(For now.)

Lots of people say “Thank God it’s Friday.”
I did too.
But I’d wait until 11:59PM to say it.
Just to fuck with God.
Once, I said “Thank God it’s Friday.” when I stayed up late on Thursday.
God had all day to fuck with me.
So, he did. Harshly.
When Friday was finally over, I almost said “Thank God that’s over.”
But he would have just fucked with me all Saturday, too.
These days, I live in the woods.
I hunt for my food. I don’t have a TV. Or a calendar.
Who cares what day it is?

so, my friend is turning fifty
my cheap friend.
and they invited me to their birthday party
well, sorta
they want me there to serve drinks
as bartender
and yet, it’s a bring your own bottle party
that’s right
they’re so cheap, they’re having people bring their own drinks
and not paying for a real bartender either
i brought a bottle
it’s a vodka bottle, full of gasoline, and a rag in it.
but i forgot my lighter.
i’ll just wait until they light the candles on the cake
unless they’re too cheap to get a cake and candles too

The thing about The Green Lantern is that it’s not just one guy.
Well, Guy. As in Guy Gardner, and his stupid haircut.
No, it’s whoever happens to have the Power Ring on.
That person is called the Green Lantern.
I suppose whoever dresses as Batman is Batman, or Robin is Robin.
As opposed to Superman, who is Superman.
Even when he takes off the cape and the tights, he’s still Superman.
Although, when he puts a paper bag over his head, they call him The Metropolis Streaker.
Until he flies away. Then it’s back to “That goddamned pervert Superman.”

Some say that Elon Musk’s gone too far with this whole “hyperloop” idea.
Which is why he was smiling wide for the cameras as he unveiled his gleaming hyperloop test track.
A miles-long vacuum-sealed tube through which a passenger cabin would race at thousands of miles per hour.
He ushered the press into the cabin, stepped outside, and slammed the door shut.
“How does it slow down?” asked a reporter through the window.
“I’ll show you,” said Musk.
Then he pressed the Go button.
The cabin leapt forward, and zoomed away down the track.
“It doesn’t,” he grinned. “Good riddance.”