Okay, so I have a gambling problem, but some days the dice are good to me.
Once, I was on a roll, and I had a pile of chips so high, I couldn’t see over them.
I held out the dice and asked a lady to blow on them for good luck.
She turned out to be a fire-breathing dragon, and she breathed fire on my hand.
I got third-degree burns from that, and I had to spend all my winnings on surgery and rehabilitation.
The dragon didn’t stick around to see me through all the pain and agony.
Bitch.
Category: My stories
Ghost Ribbon
I wear a transparent ribbon. It lets people know that I believe in ghosts.
But I don’t just believe that ghosts exist.
No, I also believe in the right for a ghost to exist.
If a ghost is haunting someone, perhaps that person did something to deserve it, such as betray a deathbed promise, or kill that person who became the ghost?
And if a ghost wants to marry a ghost, well, who am I to say that they can’t?
As for those Ghostbusters and Poltergeist movies, well, that’s just hate-speech.
Afterlife, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all!
Naming
I know a guy who used to be named Steve.
He was named Steve until his parents had another kid.
They felt that the new kid ought to be named Steve.
So, they named the new kid Steve.
“That’s my name!” said the guy who was formerly Steve.
“No, it’s not,” said his parents. “It’s Steve’s name.”
When he asked what his new name was, his parents said “Who cares? All that matters now is Steve.”
Nowadays, he calls himself “The guy who used to be named Steve.”
Unless he’s performing on stage. Then he’s called “Tiffany.”
Hey, don’t judge!
Idea Store
I write a story every day.
I hope to write every day until the day I die.
Some days, ideas for stories appear to me, and I write those stories quickly.
Other days, I struggle to scribble down the story on the notepad I keep on my nightstand.
When I am completely out of ideas, I go to The Idea Store.
It’s a huge place, full of wonderful and amazing things that inspire me every time I go there. Open 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
I open my front door, step outside, and walk into the store.
Bugs
I wonder, if RAID kills bugs dead, are there other kinds of killing bugs?
I smacked a few dozen bugs with my shoe, but they were killed just as dead as the bugs I killed with RAID.
I tried a few other methods of killing bugs, but they were all killed dead.
Then, I learned the art of Necromancy, and killed a few bugs undead.
They turned into zombie bugs, crawling around and acting creepy… well… nothing really changed much, because that’s what bugs do. Crawl around and act creepy.
I smashed them with my shoe to finish them off.
Mr. Tile
I sat in the tub and counted the square tiles around me.
Then, I imagined they were pixels on a screen, and I filled them in to make various low-resolution images.
The easiest was a pair of eyes and a smile. I named him Mr. Tile.
“Hello, Mr. Tile,” I said. “I’m enjoying my bath very much.”
Mr. Tile said nothing.
So, I closed my eyes and took a nap.
When I woke up, Mr. Tile was gone.
So was the bathroom. And my house.
Did a tornado hit? Did the place burn down?
Sadly, I couldn’t ask Mr. Tile.
Slip n’ Slide
Teddy was in the high school marching band.
But instead of the slide trombone, he played the Slip n’ Slide trombone.
While everybody else marched around the football field and played their instruments, Teddy would get a running start and leap on to a wet orange plastic sheet while he played his trombone.
Everybody thought it was cool, and Teddy got cheers and shouts every time he slid.
Until he tripped.
Instead of sliding along the sheet, Teddy fell face-down into the dirt, and the trombone mouthpiece knocked his teeth out.
After that, he played the Slip ‘n Slide whistle.
Walrus
Don’t believe those TV shows where medical examiners run all kinds of tests to discover weird and unusual causes of death.
For the most part, it’s the same stuff:
Heart attack
Stroke
Car accident
Drowning
Choking
And natural causes
Over and over.
Just once, I’d like to write “walrus” as the cause of death.
Sadly, every time someone gets killed by a walrus, the goddamned family asks me to write “natural causes.”
“Walruses are natural, right?” they say.
Maybe. Maybe not.
Disney made robotic hippos for the jungle cruise. They could always make robotic walruses.
And sell them. As weapons.
Cadbury Sperm
My degree is in Biology.
I chose that field because I wanted to find the answers to all the mysteries in life.
So, when I received a basket full of Cadbury eggs for Easter, I wondered where all the Cadbury sperm were.
Did Mr. Cadbury have a vasectomy? Or is he sterile?
Maybe he was diagnosed with prostate cancer, and he had them frozen in a sperm bank before the radiation treatment.
But then, at least they’d be in the freezer section, right?
I asked my grocer where the Cadbury sperm were, and he threw me out of the store.
Library
Every time I do a search with Siri on my phone, Stacy yells Library and screws up my search.
“Siri,” I say. “Where is the nearest-”
“Library!” shouts Stacy.
And then a map arrears on my phone.
Fuck.
No matter where I am, she manages to disrupt my searches. Even when I am in the bathroom, she shouts through the door.
After all these searches, I know where all the libraries in the world are now.
So, I went to the nearest library, got out my phone, and asked Siri the question I wanted to ask.
“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” said the librarian.