Brother Theodore was very proud that knew the nine hundred and ninety-nine names of God.
“God has one thousand names,” said the Abbot. “Recite them now for me.”
Theodore tried, but he could not remember the thousandth name.
As punishment, he was strapped to a table, and for the next five days, as he was forced to the recite them once again, and the names of God were burned into his skin.
Until… he stopped.
“And the thousandth?” asked the Abbot.
Theodore tried, but he couldn’t remember.
The one he forgot was branded on to the tip of his tongue.
Category: My stories
The vet told me he’s dying
My cat is old.
And sick.
And sleeps all day.
I took him to the vet.
The vet told me he’s dying.
I asked the vet what I should do.
Is there any medicine?
Is there any special food?
Is there anything I can do at all? Anything? Please, anything?
The vet told me he’s dying.
What about magnets?
Or crystals? Or pyramids?
Those psychic healers in the Philippines that I’ve seen in documentaries, they sure look interesting, do they work on cats, and how much do they charge?
The vet told me he’s dying.
Clutched his chest.
And died.
Blades
The first blade lifts the hair pulling it slightly from the skin.
The second bade tugs it a bit further, just because it can.
The third blade runs right up to the hair, and at the very last moment, backs off. Because it can.
The fourth blade is too good for the hair. Won’t have anything to do with it.
The fifth blade pushes the hair back in, acts like it’s the hair’s friend, these other blades want to do bad things to you, stick with me, you’ll be fine.
The sixth blade cuts the hair off.
The seventh laughs.
Tasting Strawberry
I tear open two packets of instant oatmeal, pour them into my mug, and then wait for the kettle to boil… wait… wait… wait…
A watched pot never boils, right?
I should probably go get dressed. Or sync up my phone. Maybe use my ear and nose hair trimmers. Or…
I hear the quiet rustle of water, so I pick up the kettle and pour.
Stirring with a spoon… scoop out a bit of oatmeal.
Not too thick, not too soupy.
I tear the lid off of a cup of yogurt, dip it in the oatmeal, and…
Tasting… strawberry.
Perfect.
The House Of Hate
The House Of Hate is having a yard sale.
I walk my dog past the House Of Hate every day, so I figured I’d stop by and check out what they’re getting rid of.
There were a few card tables set up on the front lawn, piled high with boxes and other things.
Two old ladies were looking through some scarves, and a fat guy was browsing the comic books.
That was when I realized I’d left my wallet at home, so I walked the dog home.
I hung up the leash, sat down on my couch, and watched football.
The Icy Path
It’s cold and icy out, and I slipped on the sidewalk and fell.
Someone helped me back up, but backed away when he looked at my face.
“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong with my face?”
I felt it, there wasn’t any pain… I didn’t see any blood on my hands.
“Where’s the nearest bathroom?” I asked, but nobody answered. They just backed away, frightened by me.
I growled in frustration, and that’s when I heard it.
The animal.
The beast.
The demon.
The sidewalks had cleared, and a priest was making his way towards me, cross held high.
I ran.
The Umbrella Man
The Umbrella Man goes from place to place, selling umbrellas to people in nice suits and dresses.
And he sells them cheap: five bucks each. All colors, all styles, all sizes.
I just lost mine on the bus, people say.
Left mine at the restaurant.
Or maybe in the cab.
It doesn’t take long for him to sell them all.
On the way home, he checks the forecast and stops by the municipal Lost And Found.
Handing his friend there a hundred, he gets another batch.
Selecting an umbrella, he opens it, smiles, and heads back out into the rain.
Merv
Unlike the rest of the Royals, The Duke of Mervin’s Gate was a down-to-earth kinda guy.
Some called him Duke, others called him Merv. He was cool with either.
His family wasn’t.
So, he bummed around in the kitchen, watching chefs prepare meals and feasts.
He asked if he could help, and after a few weeks of learning, he had his own toque and knives.
Pretty soon, all the meals were prepared by him. And they were delicious.
And laced with a slow-acting poison.
Oh, the tragedy.
Some called him King, others called him Merv. He was cool with either.
Resolution
The last step before releasing any artificial intelligence core out to the production line is to run it by Ted in Q&A.
Ted isn’t any kind of skilled cyberneticist or engineer.
He is a goddamned pain in the ass. And any robot brain that can put up with his stupid bullshit, well, it is ready to roll.
MegaThink Seven almost got a pass when Ted challenged it to make a New Year’s Resolution not to make New Year’s Resolutions.
The battletank blinked, looked at Ted, and pointed a cannon at him.
FAIL
“Can we load it next time?” I asked.
Anchor
Back when gaslamps lit the streets of New Orleans, sailors would go to sea and their loves would wait for their return.
Most came back to port on schedule, or close to it.
Others were delayed by storms, pirates… so many dangers.
When a ship was due, their loves came to the docks and met them as they arrived, walking down the gangplank, that moment.
Or, if they didn’t arrive, waiting.
Late one day… two… a week… a month.
Sometimes, the harbormaster wrote that worst of all fates: “LOST.”
And their hearts would sink, down… sink below the waves forever.