I found a program that plays bird songs.
It is very relaxing. And it has a timer, so I can play it at night to lull me to sleep.
I could let it play all night long, but that would mean that the bird songs would play while I sleep.
And I’d dream about the birds.
Hundreds of birds.
Thousands of birds.
Millions of birds.
Birds all around me, singing.
And hungry.
Hungry for anything.
I run, but the birds are fast, and they attack me.
I wake up screaming, covered in bloody scratches.
Did I roll over the cat?
Category: My stories
Skillset
I get a lot of endorsements and requests to connect on LinkedIn.
Most of them are for my writing skills, but some are for technical skills I don’t have. From people I’ve never met before.
Sure, I write about MySQL and Apache a lot, but it’s not like I administer and maintain those services.
Right?
This makes me wonder if I black out at night and become a Tyler Durden-like personality.
That’s when I check my PayPal balance.
Where the hell did that money come from?
And for what?
I click Transfer Balance to Bank Account.
Best not to ask.
Landing
When the stewardess asked me to turn off my electronic devices and put my tray table back up, I refused.
“I want to keep my tray table down!” I growled. “And I want all of my electronic devices on!”
So, we couldn’t land. And we stayed in the air.
After an hour, the other passengers got mad. One tried to turn my stuff off while another shoved at my tray.
“No!” I yelled. “No!”
They subdued me, and then the plane landed.
At the gate, federal agents were there to arrest me.
Which is why I didn’t want to land.
Flags
Ted “Avalanche” Jones played dirty. He was the dirtiest player in football.
Dirtier than Louie “The Freight Train” Brown, Robert “Knife To The Face” Williams, and Juan “Murder” Rodriguez.
That dirty.
He collected more flags than a lawn crew at Arlington National Cemetery after Memorial Day, and his fines ended up paying off the national debt.
He was so dirty, he was called for a late hit at his Football Hall Of Fame induction ceremony.
That’s right. He did a horse-collar tackle on his own son and threw him into the press pool.
They don’t make punters like that anymore.
Apple Picking
This weekend, we’re going up to a friend’s apple orchard to pick on apples.
No, we’re not going to pick apples. He hires Mexicans to do that shit. Do we look like Mexicans?
We’re going up there to pick on apples.
Sometimes, we pick on them by walking around the orchard, saying how much we really like oranges.
After that, we’ll drink wine and say how much better it is than apple juice or cider.
Finally, we’ll use baseball bats to beat apples out of the three.
(Just gotta be careful not to hit a Mexican while they’re picking them.)
Holy Gravity
The Bible says that Jesus ascended to Heaven, but the truth is that Jesus simply gave up his attraction to the earth.
He simply ignored gravity.
Since gravity keeps people on the ground, giving up on gravity causes you to rise rapidly from the earth, until you’re left out there in the void of space, floating around.
No, he doesn’t orbit the sun, because that takes gravity. He just floats around out there, watching the earth and moon pass buy once a year.
If you look closely at the sky around Easter, you might see him.
But I doubt it.
Hangover
After years of experimentation, Dr. Odd determined that the best remedy for a hangover is not drinking as much the night before.
When he woke with the worst hangover of his life, he built a time machine and went back in time to convince himself not to drink so much.
But instead of convincing himself not to drink so much, he saw how much fun his past self was having, so he got drunk with him.
Both his selves woke up with hangovers.
Failure.
He started to build a time machine.
“Can you do it quieter?” his past self groaned.
No Hope
When Bruwyn disappeared, we went to all the local animal shelters to see if he’d been picked up.
But he hadn’t. He’d been run over and killed.
We didn’t know this, though. So every black cat we saw, I’d say “Bruwyn? Booboo?” to, and watch.
Even the ones who had been abandoned by their owners.
Some had green eyes. Bruwyn’s were yellow.
But still, I’d ask, hoping.
When we got the call from our neighbor, we knew he was gone.
I still look around the hedges and parking lots, though.
Not as much as before, but I still look.
Hoping.
Will Work For… Food
The guy’s sign said WILL WORK FOR FOOD.
“Any good at raking leaves?” I asked.
He nodded.
Turns out, he was really good at it. He raked the front and back yards, and bagged everything.
“Well done,” I said. “What do you want to eat?”
He sank his fangs into my neck and drank my blood.
I almost laughed at the cleverness of his sign. After all, he had done work for me, his food.
Somehow, I managed to jam the rake handle through his chest to kill him.
Thank goodness I didn’t ask him to mow the lawn, too.
Fred’s in a better place
Shady Acres Home is a dump, and Old Fred had the worst room at Shady Acres.
It was too hot in summer, and too cold in winter.
But despite all this, Old Fred smiled.
“One day, my days here will be over, and I will be in a better place.”
And when that day came, Fred’s bed was empty.
“There was an opening at Golden Arms,” said the administrator of Shady Acres to the staff. “Fred moved out.”
When Fred died, nobody said he was in a better place.
He’d donated his body to science. That medical school is creepy.