When I feel down about things at work, I have to remind myself that things are much better here than anywhere else I’ve worked.
This isn’t the fucking public TV station, threatening to take muppets away from kids if you don’t pay up.
This isn’t the fucking news TV station, polluting the airwaves with sensationalist bullshit in between the commercials.
This isn’t the fucking webhosting company, treating broken freaks and geeks like slaves so they can host porn, jihad, and stolen music and movies.
“This is better,” I tell myself. “We are better than that.”
And, thankfully, I believe it.
Category: My stories
Marvin’s Mustache
While Jack is asleep, his mustache flies around the neighborhood.
Then, when Jack wakes up, his mustache comes back and lands back on his face.
I’ve tried to convince Jack of this, but he calls me crazy.
He says that my photographs are all PhotoShopped. And the movies I take with my smartphone are all faked.
So, I waited for Jack to fall asleep, and closed the windows and doors to his bedroom.
After a few minutes, I woke him up.
“Holy shit!” shouted Jack. “Where is my mustache?”
It never came back.
So, how do you like my mustache?
Race To The moon
It’s a race to the moon.
Our team against theirs.
First team to the moon wins.
They have experience.
But we have the numbers.
The contest judge yells GO!
I open the first can of beans.
And shovel them into my mouth.
The other team duct-tapes one ladder to another.
“More ladders!” yells the other team. “More duct tape!”
I eat another two cans of beans before they get another ladder.
“It’s so close!” yells the man at the top of their ladder. “More!”
That’s when the beans kicked in.
No, I didn’t reach the moon.
But they tasted good.
Probes
I bought a headset that delivers a mild electric current to spots on my head. The electrodes are on ports that can be adjusted to various angles so the current stimulates different parts of my brain.
I turn it on, let it do its work, and then write down how I feel.
Since it’s hard to map these things on paper, I take photographs of my head so I can remember what this thing does to me.
This position makes me happy.
This position makes me angry.
This position makes me… me…
I think I need to take a shower.
Charlie – Cave
The cave was meant as a lark. I convinced the kids that I was going to dig the hole so deep that when I came out the other side, I would be in China. My youngest, a smart little shit, said if I dug down straight I’d come out someplace in the Indian Ocean, so I had better angle the hole a bit. This took the fun out of my little prank, so I just dug a hole deep enough to bury some junk I had in the garage and all the incriminating stuff inside my safe in the den.
#2
They invited me for a day of spelunking West of here. They said it would be an easy day, with no water traps or streams to contend with. It was an invitation offered by my church group. I haven’t been afraid of tight spaces, heights, darkness, and bugs since my divorce, so I looked forward to the adventure. I put fresh batteries in my headlamp, grabbed some more gear and was on my way to Gardner Cave. Again, I reminded myself that wrestling myself through tight, wet, cracks in the semi-darkness was something I left behind a long time ago.
#3
Teenie Parker’s husband spent hours in his man cave, watching sports on a large TV, and mixing drinks made at his built-in bar. Teenie stumbled on photos of “she-sheds” online. She wanted one of her own. She sheds have become the female response to man caves. She saved, and had one built in the backyard. The new shed was fitted with solar heating, a small bath, and comforting wood stove. Teenie spent more and more time in it, and grew to love it so much, she moved out of the main house, and divorced her cold spouse in the process.
For The Sea Gods
I spent the whole night on the beach with her.
Sat next to her and watched the tide come in.
She begged for me to dig her out of the sand, but there’s no way I’d do that.
So, I gagged her before she started screaming.
As each wave rolled in closer, she went from scared to angry to what I swear was forgiveness.
Like all the others.
Sometimes, I dig them out after they get a wave or two against their face.
But not this one. This one belongs to the Sea Gods.
“Yes,” they demand.
And I comply.
Dan Bakerology
I had a hard time choosing a major in college, so I decided on Dan Bakerology.
That’s the study of me, Dan Baker.
I got straight A’s in it, too.
Graduated Magna Cum Laude.
Barely beat out my girlfriend, who was minoring in Dan Bakerology.
Well, ex-girlfriend. She dropped me, but didn’t drop the minor.
The campus police called it stalking.
She was allowed to graduate anyway.
For my masters thesis, I plan to turn in a mirror.
The big question is, how the hell do I get a job with this degree?
I knew I should have chosen Sociology.
SAT
Back in my day, the SAT was a test on paper that you picked the best answers or combination of answers.
It went electronic a few years after I graduated.
Then, it went immersive. A neural halo that measured knowledge and analytical skills directly in the brain.
But some kids had their brains fried when they tried to cheat with chemical boosters.
Their parents sued the college board, claiming it was the neural halo, not the boosters that caused the damage.
Eventually, the whole system was disbanded. Smart or dumb, it didn’t matter anymore.
Only the rich could afford college.
Super Rage Quit
I was there when Superman said he would never fly again.
“I’m never going to fly again,” he said. “Ever.”
Then he took off his cape, tossed it in the trash, and walked to The Daily Planet.
“I QUIT!” he shouted.
It took them a few minutes to realize that he was Clark Kent.
Then he did a few interviews and speaking engagements for money. Even posed in Playgirl.
“Easy money,” he said. He thought about selling his services to the highest bidder, but he decided to stay retired.
“If you monkeys screw this planet, I’ll just fly to Mars.”
Put Behind Me
It took me a few years, but I finally put my ex-wife behind me.
No, not just the lawyers and paperwork and financial stuff. Or the emotional stuff.
I literally put her behind me. A microsecond behind me in the space-time continuum. And as long as she is out of phase with the universe, she’s out of my life.
This also solves the joint-custody problem with the kids. She can see them any time she wants, even if they’re just echoes of themselves.
Her lawyers say this is unreasonable. So I sent them back to the age of the dinosaurs.