A friend gave me an old handmade book as a gift.
She said the book had been in Emily Dickinson’s house, and she had always kept it within reach.
I looked at the cover… it was too stained and battered to read what was on it.
So, I opened it carefully…
It was a volume of poems I’d never seen published before.
And they were terrible. Really awful.
Completely unlike anything Emily Dickinson had ever written.
“Oh, she didn’t write this book,” she said. “She used it to swat bugs and spiders. She was horribly afraid of the damned things.”
Category: My stories
Codger
Infinite Sam checked the calendar on his helper implant.
“Think Tank” it said.
Retirement at last.
He smiled.
That smile had gotten him through centuries of genetically-extended and cybernetically-enhanced adventures.
He’d seen everything.
He’s done everything.
He’s been everywhere, man.
He’d even spent a decade in the museum as an exhibit, answering questions, always smiling.
He tried to remember… foggy… confused…
Teeth can be manufactured.
So can bones and blood.
And even brains…
Sorta.
Cloned, and flashed from his memory template.
This old one would join the others in the tank, retiring to Dreamland.
One last smile before surgery…
Perfect!
Swoosh
Long ago, an executive at the Coca-Cola Company came up with an plan to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony.
All around the world, Coke bottles were distributed with fill lines on them, and when people drank the Coke to that level, they blew across the top of the bottle and get it to resonate with a soothing pitch.
People were supposed to sing at that pitch, but long before anyone got in tune, the resonance from the bottles caused the earth’s core to wobble and explode.
The remaining debris field left a trail like the trademark swoosh.
President Spider
The doctor says I need to face my fear.
So, I think about my biggest fear.
Heights.
I don’t like heights.
I get scared in glass elevators and standing at railings.
I worry about falling over. I feel like I’m falling.
Then I realize… I’m even more afraid of spiders.
They totally creep me out, with their beady little eyes and hairy little legs.
And the fangs… so gross!
The doctor says “What about spiders in high places?”
What? Like the White House?
A spider becoming president? President Spider?
Scary, sure, but he’s served two terms and can’t run again.
Play Ball
Every ballgame begins with the playing of the national anthem.
Some local choir was singing, and they sounded great…
“Over the land of the free
And the home of the brave?”
The crowd cheered, and the home plate umpire shouted “PLAY BALL!” but the players didn’t take the field.
They liked the choir’s singing so much, they wanted to hear them sing for a bit more.
“We’re not in a rush, right?” said the managers. “The stadium’s got lights. And tomorrow’s a travel day.”
So, they laid out blankets on the field, got some sodas, and everybody enjoyed the choir.
Scope
The supply room at the university hospital was manned by a lunatic, so whenever you tried to order a replacement microscope, it was highly possible you’d get something entirely different.
One technician got a periscope. He had to move his office one floor down to read his slides.
Another technician ended up with a telescope. He had to move his office to the moon.
A third technician received a kaleidoscope. He never did get much work done after that, marveling at the pretty colors all day.
I got a colonoscope and got fired for pulling data out of my ass.
Washed Up
There’s an old joke that nobody wants to see a tsunami hit Los Angeles because there’s enough washed-up actors there already.
Too late.
I come across another body on the beach, tangled in seaweed.
She looks familiar. Maybe an actress, starred in a commercial or two.
Toothpaste?
Shoes?
Orange juice?
Something like that.
I snap a few photos, record the location, and call for a pickup as I stick a beacon flag in the sand.
Damn. My last one.
I hate it when they’re kids. That’s just sad, sadder than adults.
Another siren. Wave coming.
I run for higher ground.
The American Dream
A priceless treasure is missing.
We’ve lost The American Dream.
Have you seen it?
Check your pockets.
What pants were you wearing last night?
Your jacket. Turn those pockets out too.
No. It’s not there.
Where did you see it last?
Everywhere. In the hearts and hopes of every American.
But it’s not there anymore.
Where did it go?
Stolen? No.
Really, who’d steal it?
Not me either.
Have you checked behind the sofa?
No. It’s not there.
It’s not anywhere.
We’d better find it soon.
Because everyone’s starting to wake up.
And the coffeemaker’s broken.
Check your pockets again.
The Spell
There’s always a few parts left over when you fix it, right?
Well, the famous Maillardet Automaton is no exception.
Charles Roberts reconstructed the device without plans or diagrams back in 1928, and repairs were made in the Seventies and 2007.
The cams and disks inside cause the mechanism to make four drawings and three poems.
It used to write a fourth poem, but those disks were removed after a fire nearly destroyed the Franklin Institute.
Not really a poem, but a spell.
A doomsday spell, barely stopped.
Turn the crank again.
Watch the clockwork boy wink, grin, and laugh.
Hasten
Hasten your step, child, for we are in Dragon Country.
You’ve heard the tales of fire-breathing dragons, yes?
Well, they’re extinct. Knights hunted them down to the last.
Now that there are no more dragons to hunt, they sell dragon insurance.
No, not insurance to dragons. They’re extinct, remember?
They’re selling insurance to travelers like us. If we’re attacked by dragons.
Yes, I know there’s no dragons to attack us. But knights put on dragon costumes and attack travelers.
You’d think knights wouldn’t pull that kind of crap, but deep down, they’re assholes.
Shhhhhhhh! I hear it too!
Hurry up!