Nardo is a classic ginger tabby cat.
His coat is two different shades of orange in a swirling pattern.
On either side, it looks like he’s got some kind of target.
Well, it looked like.
He’s sixteen years old, and what he hasn’t licked out from his coat, he’s worn out.
Still, when he’s curled up on the bed with his “good” side facing up, I can still see the target on his side.
I reach down to pet him on the target.
His eyes open slowly…
And he bites my hand.
Yeah, the little furry bastard still has it.
Category: My stories
Checkers
You play checkers your way.
I play it my way.
I like to stack all the checkers on the board into a tower and tell them “I am the twenty-fifth checker. I rule over you all.”
The checkers stand there, wobbling slightly, then… they are still.
I command them to bow.
I command them to worship me.
I command them to do as I say.
They do nothing.
They defy me.
So, I sweep my hand through the tower and cast the checkers into all directions.
Sitting there, I wait… waiting…
And then, laughing madly, gather up the checkers again.
Shuggoth
I remember back when Chunky soup said they could be eaten with a fork.
These days, you need a gun and knife.
Yeah, I know. Cream Of Shuggoth Soup is crazy, right? But it’s cheap and nutritious, so the soup kitchens in New England have been buying it by the barrel.
The shuggoth are supposed to be killed before getting chopped up and dumped in the soup, but every now and then a tentacle survives the boiling process and you end up with a regrettable incident.
Just read the label and don’t microwave the stuff.
(The magnetrons revive the things.)
A Loss Of Wax
The museum has a very large collection of wax cylinder recordings, but the ones they display in the museum are all replicas.
The real ones are restricted to researchers like me, and after years of testing, my laser-reader is ready to finish digitizing them all.
I showed up with my equipment, and was quickly escorted to the stairway down.
“There was an electrical fire in a storage room,” says the facilities manager. “The sprinklers weren’t enough. Whatever didn’t burn, warped and melted.”
We slosh through the basement and pull aside a charred door.
Looking upon the ugly ruin, I wept.
Pasta Beauty
It is said that tortellini was created by an innkeeper who peeked into the goddess Venus’ room and, awestruck by a glimpse of her navel, he was inspired to bolt to the kitchen where he messed around with meat and pasta.
The same could be said of elbow pasta and the ropy joints of Olive Oyl from cartoons. Although in her case, it’s the least-unattractive part of her by far.
Whatever did Popeye and Bluto ever see in that anorexic freakjob, anyway?
They must have been out to sea a very long time to think she was worth fighting over.
Herpetology
One glance, and the gaze of Medusa the Gorgon will turn you to stone.
However, being Greek, she has access to free state-provided healthcare.
We all have rights, even criminals and legendary monsters, no?
Monster… such a cruel term… when you get to know her, she’s not all that bad.
Zeus may have robbed her of outer beauty, but not her inner charm.
And you don’t have to look in her eyes to give her a pelvic examination. And you can cover them for dental work.
But of all the ophthalmologists in Athens, why did she have to pick me?
Rover
In a fight between a gigantic robot monster and my dog, I’d be rooting for my dog, but don’t tell him that I bet on the gigantic robot monster.
I mean, yeah, that’s cold, not to bet on your dog, but he doesn’t need to know that I bet against him.
Besides, he’s just a fucking dog. He doesn’t know shit about money and gambling and stuff like that.
Does he have a job?
Does he have health insurance?
No.
And we can always get another dog.
Now shut up and root for… what’s his name again?
Right. GO ROVER!
Surly
As I prepared my morning oatmeal, I slipped the surly bonds of earth and touched the face of God.
It was greasy and sticky.
“Don’t you ever wash your face?” I asked God.
“You shouldn’t be one to talk about hygiene,” said God. “Did you wash your hands before making that oatmeal? I see everything, you know.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
We floated in uncomfortable silence for a while.
“I’d best be getting back,” I said, and I reached for the surly bonds of earth, even surlier, having been slipped so easily.
I finished my oatmeal, and washed my hands.
Zombie Chess
It’s fun to play Zombie Chess.
Just gather up zombies, dress them up like chesspieces, and nailgun then to the platforms so they’ll stay put.
Okay, so it can be a bit scary, walking around the board and shoving the zombies around as each move is called, but it’s satisfying when a piece is captured and you get to chop them to bits.
However, when a pawn reaches the final row, it would take a while to get that pawn stripped and recostumed as a queen.
So, we cut corners.
Here’s your crown…
THUNK!
Once again, thank goodness for nailguns.
Outhouse
The biggest problem with all-powerful beings is that they tend to be immortal, too.
And immortal beings lack the same sense of urgency that mortal beings have.
So, yes, your Uncle Stan may be trapped under a collapsed outhouse, but the odds of Hrathnor The Mighty answering your prayers promptly are almost exactly zero.
To Hrathnor, time is meaningless. He’s infinitely patient. Why rush?
However, if he needs to take a dump, and the only outhouse is collapsed on your Uncle Stan, yeah, he’ll do something.
Just hope he rescues your uncle before magically repairing the outhouse and using it.