Hansel and Gretel shoved the witch into the oven and laughed.
Until they saw her skin melt, her eyes pop… and the screaming.
Oh God, the screaming!
It traumatized the kids for life.
They sit in their beds at the hospital, staring into the distance.
Never talking, never crying.
We ran feeding tubes into their stomachs.
And nurses change their diapers once a day.
You can do pretty much anything, and they’d just sit there, staring.
I realize that’s somewhat distracting.
So, we use burlap sacks to put over their heads.
I know that’s creepy, but those stares are creepier.
Category: My stories
Spilled Chemistry
Sure, there’s no crying over spilled milk.
But I’m more concerned about crying over spilled Plutonium.
That’s assuming that your eyes haven’t already bled out of their sockets, or you aren’t dead from the radiation sickness.
I’d suggest not crying over spilled Sulfuric or Hydrofluoric acid, either.
You’ll choke on the fumes and die, or your skin will begin to peel off in sheets.
Crying over pure Sodium will cause it to spark and flash, if it isn’t already catching fire.
So, if you’re going to cry, do me a favor and get the fuck out of my Chemistry lab.
Gambling Problem
Dan had a streak of bad luck at the underground casino.
Eighty thousand dollars in the hole.
He threatened to tell the cops about the underground casino.
The owner put Dan in the hospital.
By the time Dan came to, the casino had already packed up and vanished.
The cops found an empty warehouse.
Owned by nobody. No record at all.
When Dan finally got released, his house was on fire.
His car smashed up. Everything was gone.
He’d been gone so long, his job had let him go.
You can find him under the freeway, throwing dice and laughing.
Add vs Create
I got into a discussion over the use of the words “add” and “create” at work.
You know, because when you add something, you’re adding it to something else.
And when you create something, you’re making something completely new.
I used Frankenstein and his monster as an example.
“Frankenstein created his monster,” I said. “He didn’t add his monster.”
Of course, then Frankenstein told Igor to throw the switch, he didn’t mean for Igor to literally throw the switch.
He meant for Igor to close the electrical circuit.
To add the power of electricity, and bring his creation to life.
Stormvale
It’s strange, living in the shadow of Castle Stormvale.
Especially because The Silver Horde destroyed Castle Stormvale a decade ago.
The castle may be gone, but the shadow is still there.
Makes it hard to raise crops, but we manage.
When we saw the castle come down, we thought “Oh, maybe more light will get through.”
And then The Silver Horde pillaged all the nearby farms.
Somehow, we managed to clean up and replant.
Even used a few stones from the castle’s ruins to build walls for a nice sheep pen.
The shade is kinda nice in the summer, really.
The Bridge of Frankenstein
The townspeople were outraged by the local mad scientist’s latest abomination.
“How dare he do this?”
“Has the man no shame?”
They gathered their torches and pitchforks, and they marched to Castle Von Frankenstein in an angry mob.
As they crossed the moat to the front gate, a few stopped and looked at the drawbridge they were walking across.
Then, they pounded on the gates, demanding entry.
Eventually, they talked to Dr. Frankenstein, and they realized it was all a simple, honest mistake.
“I’m constructing a bride to marry,” he said. “Not a bridge.”
Satisfied, the townspeople went back home.
The lovely audience
The Beatles start Sergeant Pepper with: “You’re such a lovely audience, we’d like to take you home with us!”
And, on occasion, they did. They took the lovely audience home with them.
Some audiences, they let romp in the yard and play in the sun.
Other audiences, they threw into the basement and forced to make shoes for sale at Selfridge’s Department Store.
The worst audiences were fed to Yoko.
The diminutive performance artist would tear her victims limb from limb, drinking their blood and swallowing their ropy intestines.
Then she’d sing, and the few mangled survivors envied the dead.
Melvin’s door
When Melvin went Trick or Treating, he’d come up with the most surreal costumes.
One year, he walked around behind a lightweight carbon-fiber front door, and at every home he’d visit, he’d make them ring his doorbell to get candy.
Once he ran out of candy, he’d turn off the battery-powered porch light and hide behind the door to pretend that nobody was home.
Bullies tried to egg his front door and smash his pumpkins, but Melvin turned the water hose on them.
After Halloween, Melvin would harass Jehovah’s Witnesses, going door-to-door with his door, slamming it in their faces.
Impossible
My wife, she’s impossible.
She couldn’t come up with a good costume for Halloween.
So, I told her to go as someone who doesn’t dress up for Halloween.
Which, technically, is impossible. Because if you dress up as someone who doesn’t dress up for Halloween, you’ve dressed up as someone for Halloween.
Still, she tried, and the resulting paradox tore a hole in the fabric of space and time.
“Wow, that looks totally awesome,” I said to the rent in the universe.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Does this make my ass look fat?”
Which is impossible to answer correctly.
Trunk or Treat
These days, a lot of neighborhoods don’t do “Trick or Treat” because they’re scared of criminals and predators.
Some hold parties at the local school. But that doesn’t help if the criminals and predators are teachers or janitors at the school.
Others do “trunk or treat” where they gather in a parking lot and fill car trunks with candy for kids to pick from.
Safety in numbers, right? Well, not if there’s a predator or a poisoner there in the parking lot.
What my neighborhood does is burn down the houses of the criminals and predators.
Then we eat candy.