Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?
I thought I’d solve that problem when I developed MindWipe.
Neurotransmitter blockers combined with targeted quantum spin alteration treatments to eliminate specific memories.
It wasn’t hard to formulate champagne with the blockers, but how do you convince someone to lay still in a quantum spin generator?
That’s when I came up with the relay.
We shaped it like a sparkly tiara, and I made the whole ballroom a quantum spin generator.
When the clock struck twelve, I threw the switch.
Oh, poor Dick Clark.
We’ll say it was a stroke.
Category: My stories
Penny Saved
Benjamin Franklin said that a penny saved is a penny earned, but these days a penny is close to worthless.
However, if you save a lot of pennies, you could roll them up and exchange them for a few bucks.
The most I ever saved up at once was thirty bucks, and that had been kinda heavy.
Instead of wasting all that effort, I now stick a pound of pennies in a sock, and then whallop people on the head with them.
The most I’ve gotten that way was two hundred bucks from a guy coming out of the bank.
Drinker
I like to drink coffee with milk and Bailey’s in it.
But I’m out of Bailey’s.
So, I went to the liquor store for Bailey’s.
That’s when I realized I drank the last of the milk that morning.
I got back in the car, to pick up a fresh gallon of milk.
If only I had picked up more coffee… I was out of that, too.
After another grocery run, I had the Bailey’s, coffee, and milk.
I put a filter in the machine, poured in water, and hit the ON button.
Nothing.
I took my Bailey’s bottle to Starbucks.
Bambi The Commie
After every school massacre, the liberals blame the NRA and demand gun control.
And I polish up all the weapons in my basement and wait for the government to try to come and get them.
Yeah, I tell people that I use guns to hunt, but who the hell needs to vaporize Bambi with an automatic assault rifle?
Me. Especially if Bambi’s working for the government and trying to take my guns away from me.
Maybe if his mother carried an assault rifle to defend herself, Bambi wouldn’t have ended up an orphan and going around with that stupid bunny.
Art Deficiency
I was walking down the street on a beautiful day, when I was overcome by a strange feeling.
My balance failed me, and I collapsed.
An ambulance arrived, and the paramedics quickly checked my vital signs.
“When was the last time you were at a museum?” one asked.
“I don’t remember,” I said.
“THIS MAN IS SUFFERING FROM A LACK OF ART!” shouted the other paramedic, and I was loaded into the ambulance.
“The Downtown Contemporary is on drive-by,” said the driver. “But we’ll get you to a local gallery. It’s just two blocks away.”
And the siren wailed on.
The Zoo
I love the way the word zoo makes my mouth hum.
Zooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
I like to play my kazoo at the zoo.
But the zookeeper doesn’t like the noise.
“If you don’t want people playing kazoos at the zoo, why sell them in the gift shop?” I shout.
“Just because we sell them, we don’t encourage their use here,” he shouted back. “You can buy condoms at the drug store, but you don’t use them there, right?”
Of course not.
His wife is the pharmacist. We’re having an affair. And she’s on the pill.
(Or. at least she says she is.)
The Sled
I grew up in a big family, and we didn’t have much.
All the kids had to share one sled. We carved our names into it.
Right over the curse.
That Winter, the year I had the broken leg, the other kids took turns going down the hill.
“Let’s all get on!” shouted Robbie.
I watched through the window as the sled veered out of control, and they ran straight into the old tire swing tree.
Broken necks, hypothermia, and frostbite got them all.
Except me. I was the last kid left.
My dad busted the sled up for firewood.
The Shooter
They said peace and love, and they offered me a flower.
I looked to Billy, who was standing behind the peacenik.
We do this a lot: I confront a stranger, Billy scouts behind them, and reports if they’re safe.
I can read lips.
“He’s holding a gun behind his back,” he said.
So, I shot the guy.
“WHAT THE FUCK!” shouted Billy. “I said he was holding nothing behind his back!”
“I thought you said ‘gun,'” I said. “Oops. Sorry.”
We dragged the stranger to the dumpster and threw him in.
I kept the flower.
“You need glasses,” said Billy.
Grepton
The Grepton metabolism cannot handle large amounts of salt.
Nobody told Rufus this. Or told him the fact that Greptons exist.
He fired his rock salt-loaded shotgun at the the “college kids” who were making circles in his crops.
Instead of scaring them off, the salt killed the little bastards.
The Grepton Ambassador demanded Rufus’ extradition so they could charge him for murder.
The Deputy Undersecretary For Alien Affairs said “No.”
“They were my children!”
“No.”
Deeply hurt, the Grepton Ambassador left.
So, when you say Elvis is dead, technically you’re right.
But to Elvis, Earth is dead to him.
Boing
I wasn’t responsible enough for a dog or cat, let alone a pet rock.
“You’d throw it through a window,” said my mother. And then she’d tighten the straps and buckles on my harness.
As I sobbed, I noticed a glimmer on the wall.
A sunbeam reflected off of a buckle.
I named it “Boing.”
He followed me everywhere.
At night, I turned on the lights, and Boing danced on the walls.
Over the phone, the psychologist told my mother to bring me in.
Boing felt threatened, and he leapt into her eyes while she drove us to the hospital.