The world is a mess. And Hell is filling up quickly.
So, The Devil is adding circles to it to handle new sins.
For instance, there will be a circle for Spammers. They’ll be force-fed herbal supplements and smeared with noxious creams, giving them painfully massive erections and swollen breasts.
The rest of the damned will need to be moved to make use of the new space.
Diverting the river of fire.
Replanting the suicide wood.
Changing harpy flight paths.
And that’ll be a nightmare in logistics.
But then, it’s Hell. That’ll be a punishment for condemned change management consultants.
Category: My stories
Barf
Cats throw up now and then.
As they get older, they throw up more often.
And they sometimes miss the litterbox.
But if they’re pooping, at least it means they’re keeping some food down, right?
Either way, I’m the one who gets to pick up the mess, scrub the carpet, and then spray a cloud of deodorizer.
Kittens should come with a warning label:
WARNING
One day, this kitten will become a cat.
And that cat will become an old cat.
And old cats make a lot of nasty, smelly messes.
But, in spite of that, you’ll still love it.
Tis Of Thee
“If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.”
They used to make an effort hiding the cameras in schools.
A toy on a shelf
One of the presidents on the wall
An air vent
“For safety” said the government, installing more cameras to the crumbling, mold-infested buildings named after heroes, famous writers, and the elected officials who budgeted for the schools, but not their maintenance or the teachers in them.
Alarm!
Fifth Grade!
Third period!
English!
Play it back:
“Govern… the government governs by the will of the governed.”
Flag them.
Flag the teacher.
Bring them in.
The Activist
A woman filed a complaint against the restaurant because we asked her not to breast-feed her baby outside of the bathroom.
After doing a little research, we found out that she was a woman’s rights activist who had a history of filing complaints like these.
A while back, she’d had breast cancer and a double radical mastectomy, and after the reconstructive surgery her nipples were well-made but completely nonfunctional tattoos.
But even odder was that she didn’t actually have a baby. She used a lifelike doll that she carried around.
We set up a quiet table in the back anyway.
The Auctioneer
The man
With the sexiest voice
In the world
Was as an auctioneer
And he’d auction horses
And houses
And cars
And other things people didn’t want
Or need anymore
But his commissions weren’t
All that good
Because his voice was so sexy
Instead of raising their hands
To place their bids
People had their hands
Elsewhere
(He didn’t want to think what they’d do
With auction paddles)
So instead of watching
For people to
Raise their hands
He’d listen for them to raise their voices
In climax
He’d count that as a bid
Coming once
Coming twice
Ohhhhhhhhhhhh… sold!
Cans
I never go outside. It’s not safe out there anymore.
I get everything delivered.
I know what time of year it is by the designs on the Coke cans.
They do those polar bears in winter, fireworks in summer, and scary stuff in Halloween time.
And Santa for Christmas.
A kid comes to deliver the Coke and groceries, and he takes the empties out to the corner for pickup.
“You drink so much of that stuff, why don’t you get the two-liter bottles?” says the kid.
I like it in cans.
And I told the store to send another kid.
Seen Or Spoken
Today is my brother’s birthday.
I have not seen or spoken to him in years.
We fought a lot when we were growing up, and it never stopped.
Mom kept trying to get us not to fight and to bury the hatchet, but Dad never got along with his brother, so he totally understood and respected our decision to stay the hell away from each other.
So, when one day my brother shows up, yeah, I buried the hatchet.
Into his chest.
I buried the body in the back yard.
So, yeah, I haven’t seen or spoken to him.
Satisfied?
Where’s The Candlestick Maker?
Theodore Baker didn’t like being called Theodore or Theo.
So, he called himself “The.” As in “The Baker.”
He hung out with his friend Theodore Butcher after school.
He also started calling himself “The.” As in “The Butcher.”
They thought it was cool.
Others didn’t. Kids made fun of them, asking where “The Candlestick Maker” was, and shouting “Rub A Dub Dub!” at them.
They were pushed around, picked on, and bullied constantly.
So, when they were cornered, The Butcher got out a butcher’s knife and The Baker pulled out a rolling pin.
The bullies ran.
But they couldn’t hide.
Elephant In The Newsroom
New York Times editor Abe Rosenthal said that he didn’t care if his reporters were fucking elephants, as long as they weren’t covering the circus.
However, Rosenthal changed his mind after paying a rash of elevator repair bills when reporters brought their dates to the office.
Then there was the stampede at the paper’s Christmas Party. I guess the peanut martinis were too strong, and there was an argument between two elephants wearing the same dress.
Abe put out a memo the next day: no dating elephants.
But clowns? Totally okay with him.
Care to sniff my flower, Mr. Friedman?
Pulling Out The Stops
Second Evangelical’s roof collapsed in a heavy thunderstorm. They used the insurance money to get as much as they could repaired, but the policy didn’t cover their massive pipe organ, once an array of gleaming copper tubes and an magnificent console of keys, switches and stops, now a dripping, bent pile of ruin.
After several bake sales and poker nights, the funds were raised, and the church director found a match: a bankrupt church in Bulgaria.
They signed the contract, had the organ dismantled, shipped, and transplanted it into Second Evangelical.
Engage the pumps, and pull out all the stops!