Sally and Bob had hit a rough patch.
Sally told Bob to go to Hell.
Bob told Sally that being with her was worse than Hell.
Which was true.
Sally’s parents were pitchfork-carrying demons. And instead of a lawn, the house was in the middle of a lake of fire.
You could say that the air was filled with the wails of the damned, but it was just a Justin Bieber album that got stuck in the player.
But you don’t tell a chick that being with her is worse than Hell.
She killed him.
And he went somewhere better.
Category: My stories
Taggart’s Grill
Taggart’s Grill has the usual.
Burgers. Fries. Slaw.
Every now and then, Taggart fries up whatever he’s run over with his truck.
Sometimes, it’s possum. Other times, it’s snake.
He’s hit a deer once. That was real good.
When it flooded, Taggart ran over a school of fish that was swimming from one side of the road to the other.
I think he got a net and snagged up the fish, though.
Running over fish doesn’t leave much to fry up.
Taggart accidentally backed over his dog the other day.
I had a burger, slaw, and fries.
Just in case.
Don
As he neared the age of fifty, Don Quixote grew weary of endless adventure and battles.
“Go home to your island,” he told his companion Sancho.
Quixote rode his horse Rocinante one last time down the main road, and settled into the old Quijano Estate.
“Please, come back,” wrote his beloved Dulcinea.
But he never did.
Quixtoe hung up his lance, hammered the helmet of The Knight Of The White Moon into a shaving basin, and quietly read books.
“Fight us!” hissed the giants on the hills.
But they were long since dead, and their skeletons turned in the breeze.
Bob Dows
The man in the white wig and blue glasses was famous.
But not for being an ungrateful monster.
No, the city loved him. For all the wonderful things he did for people.
Except for his cameraman and producer, who he depended on for everything.
When the famous man died, the television station got rid of the producer, but they couldn’t shake the old cameraman.
This was all he truly cared for.
He shot whatever needed shooting. Edited anything needed editing.
They wore him out. He had one knee replaced. Then the other.
But they never brought him to his knees.
Time Melts Like Ice Cream
Time melts like ice cream.
Dripping all over.
What flavor is your time?
Strawberry?
Chocolate?
Vanilla?
Is your time in a dish? A waffle-cone?
Or one of those lame, bland sugar-cones?
Do you roll your time in sprinkles?
Some call them Jimmies.
Who’s Jimmy? Did he invent these, or did he roll himself in sprinkles?
Is your time real ice cream?
Or that soft-serve crap at Dairy Queen?
Soft-serve crap they dip in the chocolate that hardens.
Or roll in nuts.
If they’re really good, they can do both.
But that’s soft-serve crap.
Not time.
That melts.
Like ice cream.
Voices in Jeopardy
When the angry voices in his head came back, Harry checked himself into the hospital.
The doctors tried a variety of medicines, but they made the voices angry.
So, the doctors took Harry to an amusement park. And the voices had a good time.
Then, they had Harry try out for Jeopardy as a contestant. The voices helped him with the answers, and he won match after match.
Harry should have become rich on the winnings, but the show found out about the voices and claimed he was cheating.
Harry checked himself into the hospital, soaked in Alex Trebek’s blood.
Play With Fire
Other kids played with action figures and board games.
I played with fire.
Fire was fun and cheap. And it was so much more fun than action figures and board games.
And it was great for ending arguments.
Paper beats rock, rock beats scissors, scissors beat paper, and fire beats them all.
Water beats fire?
No! Fire boils water and turns it to steam. Fire beats water.
I’ve heard people say that children shouldn’t play with fire, but fire has no warning labels on it.
That must mean that fire is safe for all ages, right?
Here’s some fire… enjoy!
Wallet
I remember my first wallet. It was more of a change purse with a single zippered compartment, and a velcro flap over some key hooks.
Over the years, I got real wallets of black leather, three folds, and slots for cards.
Now, I keep my phone, cash, and cards all in a phone wallet. And I choose carefully only the cards I need to keep with me. No room for them all.
The movie theater loyalty card, museum membership, and Starbucks are all apps on my phone. Dozens more in there.
God forbid I leave the stupid thing somewhere, right?
Combover
My neighbor Ed is a middle school gym teacher.
He’s got the worst comb-over of anyone I know.
And it’s not just his hair.
His lawn’s mostly brown patches, and he’s raked the few remaining green blades of grass over them.
His carpet’s stained and worn, and he’s tried to push the clean shag pile over the worst spots.
His Afghan Hound has a patchy pelt from worms and mange, but he’s pushed the fur around to cover the bare spots.
And when he has me over for dinner, it’s spaghetti.
Just a few strands draped over a huge meatball.
Musical Cats
Most people’s pets like music.
For instance, my cat loves opera music.
However, she’s no longer satisfied with opera on the radio. Or on DVD or CD.
It has to be a live performance now.
At first, I had to smuggle her into the opera house. And I had to pay for one of those private boxes, because someone might have seen her in my backpack in a floor seat.
Then, an usher caught me, but he saw how much she loves opera now.
Ballet, on the other hand, is a no-no, after she attacked The Mouse King in Nutcracker.