When I put your heart in a cage like a bird, I am keeping it from flying away… away…
When I put your heart in a cage like a bird, I am protecting it from the cat’s claws.
When I put your heart in a cage like a bird, I can hear it sing to the breaking dawn.
When I put your heart in a cage like a bird, I can take it to the doctor when it is sick.
When I put your heart in a cage like a bird, I am keeping it from shitting on my furniture.
Category: My stories
Goddess
You’re a mess. You’re a wreck. You’re a walking disaster.
And you think the Goddess can help you get your life straight?
When you invite the Goddess into your life, you invite her into your heart.
But like any guest, you must prepare your heart for her to enter it.
Would you invite over a guest to a mess of a home?
Would you invite over a guest to a wreck of a home?
Take power over your life!
Clean up your wicked ways!
And once you have gotten your life in order, you’ll find the Goddess waiting, already there.
The Diggers
It’s a common thing for gravediggers to moonlight as graverobbers these days.
They steal what the mortician doesn’t steal, cannot steal when the casket is open, picking the carcass clean.
“What good will this tiara do the dead? Are they planning on attending the ball later?”
“Gold frames for eyes forever shut!”
“If they didn’t want to leave this fine ring to their children, then they didn’t raise them right!”
“I’ll pay for the dentist appointment myself and return their gold fillings the moment they complain of a toothache!”
And back to the church they go, to collect their due.
Sleep on the couch
Ever get in a fight and have to sleep on the couch?
Yeah, it happens all the time to me.
But it’s not my fault. Really.
There I am, in bed, minding my own business, and a fight breaks out.
It wasn’t me. I didn’t start it.
But I get dragged into it, and the next thing I know, I’m having to sleep on the couch.
Isn’t the bed big enough?
Did I snore or cut a really bad fart?
No.
I wish the damn cats would get along and stop fighting on the bed while I’m trying to sleep.
Dynasty
In the center of the city stands The Tower Of Kings.
King Albert The First was placed in a small tomb in the city square.
His son, King Albert The Second, asked that his tomb be built on top of his father’s.
As did his own son.
Over the centuries, each successive King Albert insisted his tomb be built on top of the stack, each tomb rendering the structure more unstable and necessitating reinforcement and buttressing of The Tower.
When The Tower falls, so will The Dynasty Of Albert.
Good riddance. Because they’re all a bunch of crazy tomb-stacking assholes.
Rip Van Bob
Bob took naps during his lunch hour.
His coworkers teased him about it, calling him Rip Van Winkle.
One day, Bob napped, and his workers made an elaborate prank to make him think he was waking up in the future.
They sprayed his beard and hair white, but he was severely allergic to the spray dye and fell into a coma.
After 20 years in the coma ward, he woke up.
He looked in the mirror.
“GAH! I’M OLD!”
During his painful lengthy rehabilitation, he dyed his hair and beard black.
Same chemicals, but no coma.
This time, he died.
Relativism
I watched the tape of the Filipinos nailing themselves to crosses and winced.
I winced harder at the sight of Muslims whipping themselves bloody on Ashura.
What kind of God makes his followers hurt themselves like that?
I shook my head, closed up the laptop, and headed to my aunt’s house for the family’s Passover feast.
Usually, my mom cooked, but my aunt insisted this year.
I parked the car, and as I stepped on to the porch…
Oh, god! The stench!
Got a spare cross handy? How about a chain?
I’ll suffer anything but having to eat this crap!
Hater
The mob broke into the hater’s house, ransacked the furniture and the books, and someone shouted “HE’S ON THE ROOF!”
“Shine a light up there!”
“Get a ladder!”
“Let’s just burn the place!”
“Where’s his wife? Where’s their kids, the little haters?”
Someone came out with a WORLD’S GREATEST DAD mug, and they shattered it on the sidewalk.
The mob cheered, and piled up the books on the front yard to burn.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself, hater?” yelled the leader.
If he had anything to say, you couldn’t hear it over the mob’s shouts and chants.
The Elf On The Shelf
Little Steven sits on the floor, humming a tune:
There’s an elf
On the shelf
Sitting all
By himself
I look up on the shelf and see the elf.
I didn’t buy it for him.
Did you? No?
Then where did it come from?
There’s no way that he could get it up there.
The stepstool is too short to reach it.
His toychest is too heavy to move.
And he couldn’t have thrown it up there.
I reach for the elf.
Did you see that? Did you see it move?
I put it in a drawer.
And lock it.
Cut, and it’s a wrap!
That sign overlooking Hollywood, that says Hollywood, is a perfect symbol for the town below.
Bright and shiny white on the face of it, like gleaming, capped teeth, smiling, but from behind, ugly and scraggly and all propped up like the bridgework it is.
Paint on your face, walk on to the set, and bring up the lights.
Cue the waiter, he’s really an actor though, he falls down flat, like a cut-out, and everybody topples over, like a stack of cards or dominoes. And there I am, alone, standing there, holding my drink, waiting…
CUT, AND IT’S A WRAP!