Honk, the God of traffic jams, watches the city from Metro Control, smiling at the video feeds of his followers. He feels a tiny buzz of power with every prayer the populace sends his way, palms slapped against steering wheels to call out his name in frustration, fury, and faith.
Red…
Red…
Red…
Green?
He points at the city map, dispatching construction crews to places where cars can still move.
“Go forth and obstruct,” commands Honk.
The crews head for the garage and prepare to squash the heathens with orange cones red flag.
Honk laughs and smiles upon the city
Category: My stories
That’s Super
Remember when Superman would hear someone shout “HELP,” and he’d run into a phone booth, and then run back out as Superman to save the day?
Well, there are no phone booths anymore.
So, how does Superman change?
Potable toilets.
Which, if you think about it, is what he should have been using all along.
Unlike glass phone booths, portable toilets have opaque walls, and no matter how fast Superman is when he changes, there’s still the possibility that someone’s going to catch a subliminal dose of Supercock or Superass.
I assume that’s how Lex Luthor became such an asshole.
Drooling
My job is to write technical documentation.
Because we have so many global customers, I need to write in a manner that makes it easy for translation engines to translate my documentation into many languages.
To help me, I bought a Global English style guide.
The more I use it, the more I realize that I have poor grammar and write in rambling sentences that translation engines choke on, spewing out confusing nonsense.
This is turning me into a neurotic drooling mess, unable to communicate.
Wait. Am I drooling?
Oh my God! Please don’t let my last word be “drooling!”
Drink Me Baby
Sometimes, Trixie likes to trade bodies with me.
So, I got out the soulstones, handed her one, and swallowed the other.
And then we went to sleep.
The next morning, everything was grey, and I felt strange and awkward.
I tried to feel myself, but I didn’t have Trixie’s hands or body to feel with.
I was in the dog.
She’d covered her soulstone with peanut butter and fed it to the dog!
I’m in the goddamned dog now!
I barked a few times, and that’s when the smell hit me.
A bowl. Filled with anti-freeze.
I… just… can’t… resist!
My Table
This is my favorite restaurant.
I have my own table here.
And I have my own chair, too.
They keep a special set of fine silverware for me.
And I’ve got my own wine glass. With a fully-stocked wine cellar to serve me from.
My personal waiter takes my order from the menu they printed just for me.
He goes back to the chef that works in my kitchen, using the ingredients they bought for my meal.
That’s when I hear the commotion from outside.
They’re towing my car? From my special parking place?
Unspeakable!
I’ll never come here again!
Washing Balls
I don’t play golf with Father Cunningham anymore.
It’s not because he’s so much better than me.
It’s because of how he’s so much better than me.
“Oh, I just have Sister Mary say a blessing over my balls before I go out to play,” he said one day.
And I didn’t think about this at all. It was just a little divine intervention.
Heck, don’t we all sneak in a little prayer now and then to beg The Almighty for help?
Then, I realized that he always bought golf balls still in a package before every round we played.
Puss In Boots
I never understood the story Puss In Boots.
I’ve never seen a cat walking around in boots.
However, I’ve owned a cat that pissed on my boots.
Maybe whoever wrote Puss In Boots had a cat that pissed on their boots, and they rubbed the cat’s nose in the pissed-on boots until the idea came to them for a Puss In Boots.
Probably not.
When my cat pissed on my boots, I came up with the idea for a boot rack in my closet, and closing the closet so the cat couldn’t get in there to piss on them again.
Guest
It rarely gets cold during Winter in Houston, but it’s cold enough on some mornings for a jacket and gloves.
I was walking to the bus stop when I felt an odd tickle in my left sleeve.
Was my elbow acting up in the cold?
No. It was a crawling sensation along my arm.
So, I took off my glove, pulled my arm out of the jacket, and there was a mouse in my hand.
I put it on the ground to let it scamper off.
Clever thing. It waited until it was far from our cats to reveal itself.
Regicide
Prince Alfred was the only heir, and from the day he was born, he was never a well child.
The King wanted another son, because it was obvious that Alfred would never rule. So, he hired assassins to kidnap and kill the queen so he could marry again.
Alfred knew that his father had his mother killed, so he had to kill his father’s mistresses.
He poisoned the first four before his father had the cook replaced.
When Alfred stabbed the fifth mistress himself, The King smiled.
“I believe you’re well enough to rule,” he said.
Then Albert stabbed him.
Frolic
I like to watch webcams which show baby zoo animals, but only when the zoo animals are cute and playful.
Don’t point cameras at ugly things. I don’t want to look at ugly things.
And don’t point cameras at things that aren’t playful. Might as well watch a photograph.
When a cute animal is sleeping, I want to tap the screen and shout “WAKE UP SO I CAN WATCH YOU FROLIC PLAYFULLY!”
But that’s useless.
So, I called a friend at the zoo, and they pointed an air horn at the panda.
Thank goodness there’s no audio with this feed.