I work for a troubleshooting firm.
Companies hire our company to work on their bugs and errors.
Oh, we don’t actually fix anything. We just change the way it breaks.
Instead of a computer program crashing and throwing out a meaningful error message that they’d need to investigate and pay developers to resolve, we make it look like it’s the user’s fault for the crash so they have to buy a new computer or update other expensive components.
Car companies.
Food makers.
Schools.
Governments.
Religions.
They’re all our clients now.
But don’t blame us… it’s not our fault.
It’s yours.
Category: My stories
Turnabout
Lawmakers recently expanded the definition of rape to include acts upon women, men, and others.
When asked what they meant by others, the lawmakers didn’t answer.
So, they were hauled before a judge for the crime of rape.
“By using ambiguous terms such as ‘others’ I find you guilty of the crime of rape against the English Language,” said the judge. “You’re also guilty of rape of the legal system for burdening police and judges with ambiguous laws.”
And they were all hauled off to prison, where they were treated as they had treated the language and the legal system.
King Midas
They called him King Midas, but he insisted that people call him Bob.
And he was the richest man in the world.
He invested heavily in internet companies, riding the hype until right before the bottom dropped out, moving his money to the companies with actual business plans and sources of revenue.
Then, he started to invest in monkeys.
Pretty soon, his ranch was filled with monkeys of all kinds and sizes.
“Gonna get them to type Shakespeare?” asked a reporter.
“That would be stupid,” said Bob. “Shakespeare’s already written.”
And he pointed at the reporter. “Kill.”
The monkeys obeyed.
Max
Max is five years old, and he can heal machines.
No, he can’t explain how they work. But when he puts his hands on a machine and closes his eyes, the machine starts working again.
Blenders. Dishwashers. Lamps.
He even healed a motorcycle, but that took a lot out of him, so we gave him a fruit juice box, and let him nap in the corner for a while.
We took him to the train museum once, and he touched a steam train.
The whistle screamed to life as Max collapsed.
Two week coma.
We go to the zoo now.
The Bloody Cupcake
Joe tried to scream again, but his mouth was gagged, and he’d lost a lot of blood.
Luke.
That bastard.
He knew!
How? Who told him?
Luke wiped the blood from his knife. “Hey, I can check one thing off my resolution list.”
Eyes stinging from gasoline dripping from his hair, Joe stared at the cupcake, topped with a sickly sheen of blood.
His blood.
“Oh, right,” said Luke. “The candle. Silly me.”
Luke took out a candle and stuck it in the cupcake.
And lit it.
“Make a wish,” said Luke, and he flicked the lit candle at Joe.
Pardon
They’re called midnight pardons, and they’re the most dangerous thing a lame-duck president or governor can do.
With the stroke of a pen, a criminal gets their sentence reduced, removed, or their record completely wiped.
They can’t be stopped or revoked, and a departing elected executive can’t be investigated for it.
A lot of these people deserve it, sure, but others had their pardons bought and paid for.
Political favors. Campaign contributions.
Bribes
Yeah, we paid to get Solly The Toucan released from solitary in maximum security.
We also paid for the sniper that took him out.
Worth every penny.
Quarter
Susan and I were in our usual booth at the coffee shop.
Two cups of coffee on the table, mine black and hers with cream and sugar.
She’s got her iPad out, Facebooking.
Then, she takes a napkin from the dispenser, jots down a note, flicks the pad some more.
“Can’t you just tap that out on the pad?” I ask.
She doesn’t even look up from the pad. “What?”
I take a quarter out of my pocket, plink it against the table, *plerp* into the cup.
She picks up the cup, sips.
Doesn’t even notice.
I pay and leave.
The Juggler
Emmett The Post-Modern Juggler didn’t juggle balls or torches or chainsaws.
He juggled schedules.
From an entertainment aspect, okay, he was boring as hell. Just sitting up there on stage, tapping away at his iPad and syncing it to his laptop and phone.
But the Time Management consultants were fascinated how he dealt with scheduling conflicts while engaged in so many different tasks and doing them well.
“He’s on vacation in Paris while giving a presentation in Chicago and attending his grandmother’s funeral?” they said. “He’s amazing!”
The lawyers weren’t impressed. “Let’s see him bill all that like we do.”
Control
I don’t know what’s more embarrassing… losing control of your bowels in a movie theater or losing control of your bowels in a courtroom.
When you lose control of them in a movie theater, okay, you make a mess in your pants and the seat, but all it takes is a mop and a steam-cleaner and everything’s as good as new.
But when you lose control of them in a courtroom, well, you have to file an appeal, pay the lawyer again, and make sure you get a judge who doesn’t think you don’t deserve custody of your own asshole.
Kettles
In Winter, the snow gets as deep as your waist, and it stays deep for months.
We fix kettles of soup and stew, then store them in the deep snow.
Every week, we dig up another kettle to eat from.
Long red poles with flags mark the places we’ve buried kettles, but sometimes the poles and flags get blown away, or taken by naughty and stupid children.
So, we try to remember where the kettles are buried, sometimes finding them, sometimes not.
When the Spring Thaw comes, the remaining kettles are revealed, and we hold a huge feast celebrating renewal.