Tonto sick of getting shot at.
This time, Tonto hire crazy paleface to put on white hat and ride white horse to draw fire from Tonto.
Hiring Mexican to wear black and ride black horse was mistake, even if Mexican work cheap and use sword.
He go back to Mexico, call himself Zorro now.
Do he once thank Tonto? Hell no.
Tonto sick of getting shot at.
Tonto just want to make enough to go East and write poetry. Maybe wear black beret instead of dead animal on head.
For now, just follow crazy paleface.
From behind. Far, far behind.
Category: My stories
Nothing personal
When the villagers put me in a cage and told me that they were going to shoot me in the heart with a silver bullet, they told me that it’s nothing personal.
But that’s because they don’t consider me a person anymore.
Gone is Moishe the Blacksmith.
Now, I’m just a snarling, throat-ripping monster to them.
Did I not keep my hunting to vermin and thieves?
Not once did I touch a honest villager!
When the Tsar sent his Cossacks, did I not kill all the soldiers barehanded?
Besides, I made this cage. And the lock.
And the spare key.
My only sunshine
“You are my sunshine,” sang Carlos to The Sun. “My only sunshine.”
But The Sun knew better.
This morning, as she rose with the dawn, she saw how sad Carlos was after the stars had all vanished one by one when the night was over.
This time, she’d caught him whispering: “Goodbye, my loves!”
Stars are nothing more than far-distant suns.
Suns. Just like her.
Carlos’ only sunshine?
Bullshit.
The Sun vomited with molten fury, spitting a massive flare at Carlos.
It incinerated him and the entire planet he’d been standing on.
“Who’s your sunshine now, bitch?” thought The Sun.
Red socks
Everybody at the office wears red socks on Thursday.
It’s not policy, and nobody tells anybody to do it.
We just do it.
I have no idea how it started, but every Thursday, everybody at the office wears red socks.
So, when Jake showed up with green socks, everybody was freaked out.
“What are you doing, Jake?”
“Where are your red socks?”
“Those socks are green!”
Jake pointed to the calendar…
It’s not Thursday.
It’s Wednesday.
We dragged him into the bathroom and beat the crap out of him anyway.
Not because of the socks. Because Jake’s been embezzling funds.
Phone
I left my phone somewhere.
It’s not in the bathroom or conference room.
So, I borrowed another phone and ran the Find My Phone app.
Oh. Wait.
It’s in the back seat of the car I got a ride to the restaurant in.
I’ll see them at work on Monday.
This means I’ll be without my phone all weekend long. The longest I’ve been without it since… since…
Stop worrying. I’ll be fine without it. I can go a whole weekend… without… a… phone…
I’ll just go and get a new one right now.
Eh, I needed an upgrade anyway.
Squatters
BB Wolf wasn’t like other wolves.
He was a farmer. His primary crops were corn and soybeans, he also raised cucumbers, basil, and other things.
One day, he went out to his fields and saw three houses:
A house of straw.
A house of wood.
And a house of bricks.
“Goddamned squatters,” he mumbled.
Not only had they tapped his electrical line, but when he checked his router, they were stealing his WiFi, too.
Instead of confronting them directly, he called the sheriff.
Three squealing pigs were dragged off to jail.
The Wolf used the brick house as a shed.
In Heels
She hates driving in heels.
“Try my shoes,” I say.
So, we swapped feet.
“Much better,” she says.
She hates how the seatbelt feels on her lap in that skirt.
“You’re not on your period, are you?” I ask.
She says no.
So, we swap a bit more.
And even more when she complains about the shoulder strap across her tits.
We get to the restaurant, but never make it inside.
“Take off my panties,” she says, undoing my belt.
We fuck, and it really hurts.
Ten minutes without her pussy, and she forgets to let it get wet first.
Facelessbook
Okay, so there’s this one woman in the news who got attacked by her pet chimpanzee.
By the time the cops arrived and got the chimp off of her, it had torn off her face and eaten it.
Somehow, she survived, but without a face, her Facebook account was terminated.
“It’s called Facebook for a reason,” said Mark Zuckerberg. “You have to have a face.”
So, she signed up for face transplant surgery, and surgeons gave her a donated face.
“Okay, it’s ugly, but you can use Facebook,” said Zuckerberg.
But after hundreds of bullying wall posts, she quit again.
The Unholy Grail
Okay, so you know about King Arthur and The Holy Grail, right?
It was the vessel from which Christ drank, and any who drink from it are healed of all disease and illness.
Well, I know about the Unholy Grail, from which those who drink are poisoned and suffer greatly.
Still, no matter how many times you warn the guys, the moment she spreads her legs, they all come with their tongues waggling and licking.
Then, they come crawling to me, begging for a sip from the Holy Grail.
“It’s in the dishwasher,” I say, and I slam the door.
Pick Up Artist
People ask me all the time how to pick up girls, and I tell them that you should lift from the legs and not the back.
Unless they’re so big, you need a forklift. But you don’t want to pick up those porkers, right?
Any you can pick up with tweezers are going to be a real cheap date because they don’t eat nothin.
Some, you can pick up with a radio. Those are probably way out of your league. Especially the ones on Howard Stern.
And if you can pick em up on a Geiger Counter, run like hell!