My boss, the President, says that nothing is off the table.
Nothing’s fallen off of it, either. It’s a very sturdy table. Unlike most tables, which have a bit of wobble in them due to uneven legs or a warp in the floorboards.
Sometimes, he puts beverages on the table. I make sure there’s plenty of coasters for them.
You know, because coasters count, too. Nothing’s off of the table, remember?
Oh, and dust. Lots of dust on that table. Dust isn’t nothing, either.
I just know it’s not easy to dust when you can’t take anything off the table.
Category: My stories
Uncle Tom’s Cabin
Whenever I need to get away, I pack a bag and head up to my dad’s old cabin in the woods.
For years, I’ve been doing this, chopping wood to feed into the stove, watching the snow fall, and reading by candlelight.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said to his framed photograph.
It was hanging a bit askew, so I straightened it.
Something fell from behind it.
A letter:
“Dear Son,
This cabin actually belonged to my brother Tom. He’s buried under the floor.
Love,
Dad”
So, I thanked my Uncle Tom, tossed another log on the fire, and made some coffee.
The Guy In 7B
Nobody knows the name of the guy in 7B.
What little mail he gets is addressed to Resident or Occupant.
He must have a post office box somewhere in the city.
If you walk up to him and introduce yourself, he’ll say “Yes, I know you, how are you doing?” but not introduce himself back.
I did a search online, but there’s nothing about him.
Don’t bother trying to look through his trash. He shreds everything beyond recognition.
The super won’t tell me.
So, I called him 7B.
“How did you know my name?” he screamed.
And promptly moved out.
Bubble Boy
Teddy was a bubble boy.
He’d spent his entire childhood in a germ-free environment.
Despite bone marrow transplants, he never grew his own immune system.
So, he stayed in his specially-made room in his parent’s house, and connected to others through his computer and cameras throughout the world.
He had a lot of friends online, one of which who’d ride rollercoasters with a camera on her head, then sending the videos to Teddy.
He loved the thrill, but the dizziness made him ill.
Then came the stroke.
Teddy died with a smile (and a bit of vomit) on his face.
Funerals
A good friend of mine died last week.
Their relatives were contacted, flights booked, the funeral was set for 11 tomorrow.
Last night, my best friend died.
They were on their own for many years, mostly kept to themselves.
Except for me.
They wanted to be buried as quickly as possible, so the funeral home set them for 11 tomorrow, too.
On the other side of town.
Damn! Which do I go to?
I take a quarter out and flip it.
Heads.
And… I use it in a pay phone to make a bomb threat at one of the funerals.
Sesquicentennial
I love the word sesquicentennial. It’s a shame that it doesn’t get used much.
Thank goodness for my state’s urban blight and rural renewal program.
Every week since its establishment two centuries ago, a new village or town was established.
Which means there’s plenty of sesquicentennial celebrations to be had.
Bicentennial celebrations, however, are a rarity, since all population centers are razed and resettled after 150 years.
It’s meant to ensure legacy sewer, power, and road infrastructure are replaced with technologically efficient innovations in the new locations, but I think people just like to watch stuff implode, crumble and burn.
Get To Sleep
A friend of mine said he’s having trouble going to sleep.
His cats jump on the bed and pounce on his feet under the covers.
I used to have that kind of problem, too.
Except that my cat would jump on the bed and poke my nose.
I’d pet him for a while, and then go back to sleep.
Sometimes, he’d poke me again.
But usually he’d go to sleep, too.
I never felt annoyed that he did this, because I knew there’d come a time when he’d be gone.
Now, I sleep. Uninterrupted.
And dream of when I couldn’t.
Song Fight
During the American Revolution, to symbolize the casting off of British rule, the lyrics were stripped from the song “God Save The King” and changed to “My Country Tis Of Thee.”
Canadians, being a part of the British Commonwealth, still sing the original version.
This makes for some interesting situations at karaoke bars on the border.
Put enough drinks in the crowd, fire up the tune, and you’ll get both sides trying to shout each other down.
Sometimes, a fight breaks out. People get hurt, glasses and chairs and tables get broken.
And the Mexican laborers sweep up the damage.
Writing Cap
Sometimes, I get too busy to write during the day, and my notepad is blank.
So, as I’m stumbling off to bed, I put on my Writing Cap, drink a glass of Creative Juices, and go to sleep.
The Writing Cap is supposed to pick up my brainwaves, translate them into stories, and feed them to my cell phone via Bluetooth.
Instead, it irritates my scalp and makes my hair fall out quicker.
The Creative Juices cause gut-wrenchingly awful constipation.
I call that writer’s block in the worst possible way.
(At least it’s wireless. No more strangling on the cords.)
Dumped
Missy broke up with her latest?
Didn’t she say this was The One?
He was perfect. They were perfect together.
All that lovey-dovey crap on her Facebook and shit?
Yeah, I thought so.
So, The One dumped her. Like all the rest.
Man, what a shame.
That makes how many this year?
I don’t know either. I lost count at ten.
Remember The Price Is Right?
Yeah, the game show.
They had a mountain climber game.
He’d yodel all the way up the mountain.
The more wrong you were, the louder and higher he got.
Higher… louder… higher…
Then… splat.