I can’t remember the last time I flew a kite.
In fact, I can’t remember the first time I flew a kite.
Or even flying a kite.
I know I’ve gotten kites as gifts, and I remember putting them together.
And I live somewhere near a spot with large fields and far from power lines.
It gets windy here, too… perfect kite-flying weather.
But not today. It’s not windy. And it’s raining.
So, that’s why I have this kite-making kit with me.
In case it’s nice out.
And windy.
And I’m near a wide open field.
So I’ll be ready.
Category: My stories
Blood Money Hostage
The kidnapper wanted to send a unique ransom note, so he sliced the message into the stomach of his hostage and pressed a sheet of paper against it.
He pulled the sheet off and…
Damn it. The words were backwards.
So, he flipped her over, and tried again on her back.
He still got a few letters reversed.
The third time, he tried to use her ass, but she was thrashing around a lot, making it hard to get a clean transfer.
Dipping a quill in the blood, he wrote the note by hand.
And she bled to death.
Oops.
Z Pack
The doctor called it a Z Pack.
Two antibiotic pills the first day, and then a pill for each of the next four days.
The first day, my sinuses cleared up, and my cough eased.
The second day, I was hearing strange bubbling and squishing noises from my guts.
The third day was spent on the toilet, expelling my gastrointestinal tract’s contents and its helpful bacterial flora.
The fourth day, I could have swallowed golf balls and launched them further than Jack Nicklaus at a driving range.
The rest, I don’t want to remember.
Pass the antibacterial hand wipes, please.
At your expense
According to the company’s expense report policy, alcohol may not be expensed unless a Vice President or above is present at the event and approves of the expense.
This makes for a very difficult situation if the Vice President is giving you such a hard time at the event that you are driven to crawl away and drink yourself stupid. Because the next morning, when you sober up in a pile of empty bottles, it’s going to be difficult to get approval for the expense.
And that’s assuming you wake up with receipts in your pockets, let alone your pants.
Jacked Up
Whenever a famous artist dies, the price of their work goes up.
The obvious example is a painting at auction.
It also applies to famous musicians who die suddenly.
I’m not talking about some Best Of album or unreleased studio material that gets rushed out and released out after they die.
I’m talking about the existing albums out there on the iTunes and Amazon marketplaces.
As people rush to download their favorite tracks to remember them, the companies quietly bump the price up from 99 cents to a buck twenty-nine.
Thirty pieces of copper for the modern-age Judases of Music.
Scratching Backs
Whenever someone says “You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours” I feel uncomfortable.
In order for us to scratch each others backs at the same time, we’ll need to get awfully close to each other, and facing each other.
We’ll look awfully silly that way, and not that I have anything against people of differing sexual preference, I’d rather not get a reputation for that behavior.
“We’re just scratching each others backs!” I say.
“Oh, sure you are,” you say, and wink.
Sure, we could take turns, but who goes first?
We toss a coin, and both call heads.
Bluesman
The story that Robert Johnson went down to the crossroads and sold his soul to The Devil to become the greatest guitarist in the world is totally bogus.
However, the story that Rabbi Hiram Goldberg sold his soul to God to become the greatest washboard player is absolutely true.
Why he wanted to become the greatest washboard player is a bit of a mystery, but when given the option to drag your fingers along a washboard with a hillbilly band and to stick your mouth on a disgusting ram’s horn every year, I’d choose the washboard, too.
Play, Rabbi! Play!
RGB
If you take the red pill, it’s poison.
If you take the green pill, it’s poison.
And if you take the blue pill, it’s poison.
But if you take all three at the same time, yeah, it’s a really wild trip.
RGB’s the newest drug to hit the streets.
But nobody sells the pills together.
For that reason, the courts can’t convict a Red Dealer, a Blue Dealer, or Green Dealer.
You’ve got to get busted with all three, or with two trying to make the third.
So, the cops were screwed.
Until they started manufacturing and distributing genuine-looking placebos.
Why do birds
Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near?
This is a trick question, right?
It’s because you’re covered with bird seed.
How do you do it? How is it sticking to your body?
Is it some kind of spray-on adhesive? Caramel? Office Depot gluestick?
Either way, it’s really kind of weird.
When the birds pick the seed off, does it hurt?
And do you scrape it all off at the end of the day, or do you wash it off?
I’m just curious, that’s all. And I’m sick of gluing dog biscuits to my body to attract dogs.
That’s Absurd
What if maple trees used our blood to make a syrup for their pancakes?
That’s absurd. Maple trees don’t eat pancakes.
What if pigs used our skin to make a ball to play games with?
That’s absurd. Pigs don’t play football.
What if elephants used our teeth to make billiard balls.
That’s absurd. Elephants don’t play pool.
Or so I thought.
I watched the elephant chalk his cue and run the table on a young punk.
The kid put down another hundred. And lost it just as quickly.
The elephant pointed his cue at me.
“No thanks, shark,” I said.