Who watches the watchmen?
I do. I’m their supervisor.
I keep track of them with this computer. It tells me when they tap their badge against the checkpoints in the bank headquarters.
But it’s not like we do much good walking around. The cleaning crew steals stuff all the time, putting it in their carts.
And employees walk out with thumb drives full of sensitive data.
Oh, and those million-dollar bonuses executives paid themselves after the bailout? The biggest theft of all.
The biggest crimes happen in broad daylight, while my team just walks around an empty building at night.
Category: My stories
The Toaster
Dad was cleaning the gutters when he slipped off the ladder, fell, and broke his neck.
After the funeral, Mom thought Dad’s soul was in the toaster.
“He never did like wheat bread,” she said, as the toast popped up burnt again.
“You have it on the bagel setting, Mom,” I said, but she ignored me.
She’d stay up late, talking to it.
And sometimes went to bed with it.
“I’ll just have cereal,” I told my mom, eyeing the toast and butter suspiciously.
I get the milk from the fridge, which is my Grandmother, and close the door gently.
Outage
“My website is down!” shouts the voice on the phone. “I’m losing hundreds of dollars a minute in business!”
“What is your website?” the technician asks.
“Hold on. Lemme look it up.”
The customer spells the website wrong twice, and yells some more.
The technician types it in, and it comes up.
So, he has the customer try to bring it up.
“I can’t!” he shouts.
“Can you go to CNN?”
“Sure, hold on… and… nope! Can’t get Fox either. None of the channels. My cable’s out.”
The technician mutes his phone, mutters “fuck you” softly, and sips his coffee.
Glass Houses
People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.
Visitors shouldn’t throw them, either.
In fact, nobody should be throwing stones around glass houses.
Are there glass houses? I’ve seen houses with outer walls of glass, but I’ve never seen a house made entirely of glass.
The furniture and carpeting’s not made of glass, right?
Maybe the clever scientists at Corning are working on that. If they can invent fiber optics, they can invent a glass house.
And it would be shatter-resistant too.
Unlike that window you broke playing baseball in the yard.
That’s coming out of your allowance, Bobby.
They Paved Paradise
The Trinity Church was torn down ten years ago. After years of serving Downtown, the commuters went to their suburban home churches while the pews collected up the homeless and drug addicts, who stripped the place bare to sell for more drugs and booze.
The church’s parking lot is still there, though, as a private contract lot, and it’s always full. There’s even a car washing valet and a mechanic for doing oil changes and other simple little maintenance tasks.
And the old priest, who walks from row to row during the day, blessing the cars, wishing them safe travels.
The Voices In Sally’s Head
Sally hears voices in her head.
But instead of telling her to go wild, set fires and kill people, they tell her to go straight home and clean her room.
They even help her with her Chemistry homework.
“Boyle’s Law is pressure times volume equals a constant,” says a voice. “It’s Charles’ Law that involves temperature.”
Sally smiles, puts down the Chemistry book, and moves over to Physics.
Oh, sure… eventually they told her to burn down the school and kill her classmates.
Then they told her to go home and clean her room.
The cops didn’t find any evidence.
The Bear
I recently heard an old man say “Some days you eat the bear, and other days the bear eats you.”
What the hell does that mean?
If you eat the bear, it can’t eat you because it’s dead and you ate it.
Unless you just ate part of it, like a leg, a paw, or the tail.
If the bear eats you, it’s very unlikely that you’ll eat it.
Because a bear’s not just going to eat a leg or bite a chunk out of you without killing you.
Besides, bear probably tastes awful.
Stick to cheeseburgers.
Or a salad.
The Kite
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.
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.