Recently, a fucked-up soldier murdered 16 Afghans in the field.
Some were women. Some were children.
The government paid the survivors fifty thousand dollars for each dead relative.
There are twenty-nine million Afghans.
Do the math, and you come up with a trillion and a half dollars payout if we killed them all.
Then, I realized, that you wouldn’t have to pay a dime if we killed them all. Because there’d be nobody left to pay.
Instead, I’m taking off my shoes and my belt to get on a fucking plane.
While this minimum-wage moron wants to fondle my balls.
Category: My stories
Fishy Witness
They say that goldfish only have seven seconds of memory.
They swim by something, see it, and then forget.
Which is why you’ll rarely see a goldfish called as a witness in a murder trial.
Sure, some lesser-experienced and desperate district attorneys will try anyway, and they end up staring at a fish for an hour before the judge tosses their case out the window.
Still, when a Mafia boss says “Leave no witnesses” to his men, they take it seriously.
Flush it.
Cook it.
Feed it to the cat.
I just knock over the bowl.
Accidents can be caused.
Turnover
Most companies have an employee turnover rate of a few percent.
Bad companies to work for have higher turnover.
But our company, Replication Incorporated, has a turnover rate of over one hundred percent.
That’s right. More people left than worked for the company to begin with.
Government regulators are always confused by that number, but it’s easy to explain: we duplicate humans, and our staff are required to act as test subjects.
Every now and then, a duplication procedure goes awry, and the employee and all their duplicates leave.
Which is good, I suppose. Makes the bathrooms easier to clean.
A million kroner
Some girls strip to pay for college, but Candy did it the other way around.
Growing up, she wasn’t much to look at, so she put everything into learning, studying and getting good grades.
She graduated early at the top of her class, and she burned through college, grad school, and her PhD like an academic wildfire.
There wasn’t an academic journal published without a research paper by her, and it didn’t take long before she earned her Nobel Prize.
“Thank you,” she said, and she called a plastic surgeon.
She looks like a million kroner now.
Brains and body.
Breakfast Is Served!
The famous mad scientist Doctor Odd called a press conference.
He was always good for a soundbite or two, so all the major networks sent cameramen and reporters.
However, on the morning of the press conference, there was no sign of Odd.
They knocked on his lab’s door.
No response.
After hours of waiting, the scientist burst out of his lab and shouted “SUCCESS!”
In his hand was a plate, and on that plate was a stack of waffles.
Famished, the press greedily ate up the waffles.
Odd scowled at the empty plate.
“Well, there goes my Intelligent Waffle experiment.”
Shaking
On the one hand, I’m fascinated by the beautiful things that talented Etch-a-Sketch artists create.
On the other hand, it’s just a fucking toy.
Okay, so not everybody can spend three hours twiddling those knobs to make the Mona Lisa or Mount Rushmore, but all it takes is one shake, and it’s back to a blank slate.
That’s when I saw the breaking news:
MASSIVE EARTHQUAKE STRIKES SOUTH DAKOTA
Video from the scene revealed that the memorial at Mount Rushmore had shattered and collapsed.
I sighed and shrugged.
At least the Mona Lisa was done with oils and canvas, right?
Let there be light again
God watched as Eve handed the apple to Adam again.
STOP! He shouted.
Everything stopped.
God wiped His brow and growled.
“Why do they keep doing this?” He said, picking up the humans and tossing them into a universe. “No matter what I do, these idiots keep defying me.”
“Beats me,” said the llama. “If you’re finished, can you turn me back into a snake, please?”
God snapped His fingers, and the llama became a walrus.
“No,” said God. “We’re starting from Day Six.”
He reached into the mud, pulled out some clay, and shaped up another Adam to test.
Deli
When I was little, I was impressed with the variety of meats and cheeses behind the glass at the deli counter in the grocery store.
My mother would make her selections and the attendant would heave up huge chubs to the slicer, where they’d slide across the whirling blade, leaving a stack of whatever to be weighed and wrapped.
Now, pretty much everything is pre-sliced and packaged for sale, but now and then I insist on going to the counter in the hopes they’ll accidentally hack their hand off.
Because nobody ever posts videos of that happening at the factory.
Turning The Knife
The priestess didn’t struggle or fight when I dragged her to the river and shoved her head under.
The water was so clear, her face so calm and her eyes staring back into mine.
So calm.
I let go of her, but she didn’t get up. She stayed under the water.
I pulled her up and back to the shore, our clothes soaking wet.
“How did you stay so calm?” I said.
That was when she drew a dagger from under her cloak and stabbed me in the chest.
“I was never in any danger,” she said, turning the knife.
Tattoo
Long ago, I got so drunk, I woke up with a new tattoo.
It was a devil wrapped around an anchor, surrounded by flames.
I got it on my right arm, and when I flexed my muscles, the devil wiggled his tongue and the flames flared up around him.
However, last night, I got so drunk, I lost my tattoo.
And the arm it was on.
The surgeons said there was no hope of reattaching it. Just too mangled up, so I’m going to be fitted with a prosthetic arm.
Maybe I’ll think about getting the tattoo printed on it.