Most kids have imaginary friends.
I had an imaginary theater critic.
He’d go on and on about Broadway flops and the Tony Awards, or the latest Sondheim production.
I’d yell at him to shut the hell up.
We lived in Iowa. We never went to Broadway.
We didn’t go to the movies or watch plays on television, either.
I never tried out for plays in school because I was homeschooled.
I thought about trading with my friends for their imaginary friends, but I didn’t have any.
Because I was homeschooled, and my only friend was Bert, raving about South Pacific.
Category: My stories
The Power Of Prayer
Long ago, I got onto an elevator at a hospital, and there was a priest in it.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” they said. “I’m the hospital chaplain. Is there someone you know needing prayer?”
The elevator door closed, and he reached for a button.
I stopped him.
“I don’t believe in prayer,” I said. “And I think you’re a fraud. But, you can prove me wrong… pray for God to move this elevator.”
Nothing happened.
And then… the elevator moved.
I dropped to my knees and began howling LORD JESUS, THANK YOU!
The door opened, and the frightened priest ran.
War Is Fun
Other kids set up their toy soldiers in battles, arranging men and tanks and plastic barbed wire on their basement floors.
Ralphie’s different. He stages courts-martial, using a television court drama’s action playset to bring the war criminals of his toy chest to justice.
He also turned a hospital set into a VA hospital in which to treat the wounded members of his plastic green army.
Then there’s the brothel…
His sister stomps into the basement, demands her Barbies back, and kicks the courtroom and hospital over before returning to her room.
The door slams.
Ralphie blinks, and shouts: “TORNADO!”
The Spice Of Lifeless
I used to like spicy and hot foods.
Adding a bit of Tabasco to the ranch dressing dip for carrots and celery kicked things up
The problem is, spicy foods don’t like me anymore.
It doesn’t take much for me to blast out half of my intestinal tract in a disgusting, bloody, and smelly mess.
So, I started a food diary, and measured my reactions to various things.
Tabasco…gone.
Picante… gone.
Vietnamese pepper sauce… gone.
The refrigerator got emptier and emptier.
Pretty soon, it was just romaine lettuce, yogurt and cottage cheese.
I think I’ll go drink drain cleaner now.
Pampered
I had two cats.
She had two cats.
When we got married, that made four.
They all lived happy lives.
One died.
Then another.
And so did a third.
Their ashes are in nice velvet bags on the shelf.
When the fourth finally died, he came back in a nice box, with his name stamped on a shiny metal plate.
My wife asked the pet cemetery staff if we could get the others their own boxes and names stamped on shiny metal plates.
You know. Upgrades.
Even after they’re dead, we still pamper and spend money on these little guys.
Skates
I met an ogre named Wilson.
We became friends.
I introduced him to my other friends.
They welcomed him into our circle of friends.
We went to the movies.
We went out for pizza.
We watched a baseball game.
But when we went roller-skating, they didn’t have any shoes Wilson’s size.
We took turns sitting with Wilson as he watched the others skate.
We tried to make roller-skates his size, and they fit great.
Wilson took a few steps…. and he fell on his ass.
We laughed.
Wilson didn’t. And he attacked the village.
Go get your pitchforks and torches.
Moonbeams
I invented something.
It’s in my workshop.
Want to see it?
Okay, but you have to promise that you won’t tell anyone about it.
Here it is.
What?
No, it’s not under the cloth… it’s the cloth!
See it shimmer and glitter?
It’s made of moonbeams.
I caught them on a bright moonlit night, and wove them into a cloth.
Well, not at first. I spun them into yarn and knitted them, but it just far was too coarse.
This cloth is a tight weave.
Of moonbeams.
That shimmer and glimmer.
And I invented it.
Me.
On a moonlit night.
The Unknown
I put down my repair kit and I place my finger on the scanner next to the door.
UNKNOWN
I wipe it with a cloth and try again.
UNKNOWN
“Is there something wrong with the scanner?” I ask the guard standing by the door.
He shrugs. “I just work here, man.”
“Can I show you my ID?” I ask the guard.
“Yes, but it won’t do any good,” said the guard. “I don’t know who can enter. And I can’t open the door, either.”
I try again.
UNKNOWN
Then, I realized: It was the scanner I’d been called to repair.
Thanksgiving Meat
Nobody in our family likes turkey, so for Thanksgiving we’ll roast different animals.
One year, we had giraffe. Plenty of neck meat to go around.
Then there was elephant, but it didn’t fit in the oven. Had to roast it on a spit and rig up a generator and motor to rotate it over the fire.
We had plenty of rattlesnake to go around. And everybody got a belt for Christmas, too.
Nobody wanted the jellyfish or slugs. Those years, we ran out of sweet potatoes and stuffing early.
This year, we’ll get a jump on shopping and do kangaroo.
Baskets
Mom told me not to put all my eggs in one basket, so I put then in two baskets, one hanging from each hand.
As I walked to the market, The Evil Basket Thief jumped from the bushes and blocked my path.
Oh crap. Not again.
“Ohhhh, what lovely baskets!” he chirped, rubbing his hands together. “I think I’ll take them both and add them to my collection!”
I sighed, put down one of the baskets, and drew my pistol.
“Uh oh,” said The Evil Basket Thief.
Dad told me not to put all my shots into the target’s midsection.