That’s no ordinary banana in a stone…
That’s Bananacalibur!
Sure, the Lady Of The Lake may have tossed a sword at Arthur, but when pulled it from the stone, The Clown Of The Crown stuck a banana in the hole.
What? What happens to the person who pulls it from the stone?
I guess they get a free banana.
Hey, just be careful what you do with the peel when you’re done with it.
If you slip on it, you become the next Clown Of The Crown.
And the Clown Of The Crown has some mighty big shoes to fill.
Category: My stories
Gestures
When a dog bows with its tail in the air and ears cocked forward, it is an invitation to play.
Get down on the ground and try it yourself. See what your dog does.
We had to teach this to the Bzzzzkt, who had mistaken this canine behavior for a Tktktktkt Death Beetle threat-crouch and had wiped out a large number of pets, living and cybernetic, in the colony domes.
It’s only fair to forgive them, as we mistook their friendship gesture as a form of anal rape.
Besides, the constant barking was getting annoying, and dog meat’s rather tasty.
Barriers
Three Halloweens ago, the Spirit and Living worlds reunited once again, but never fully separated when the Holiday was over.
Zombies, ghouls, mummies, and other frightful creatures were still crossing over.
The world was awash in these troublesome and smelly interlopers.
So, scientists came up with an answer, and they managed to close the barrier once again.
Completely.
With Death vanquished once and for all, you’d think people would be happy.
Instead, we’re getting older, sicker, and unable to eat anything.
Maybe when Halloween comes again, the barriers will weaken, and we can finally taste the sweet mercy of death.
The Third Thumb
I once heard of a psychic claiming they had a “third eye.”
Well, then I’ve got a “third thumb.”
You see, I’m a movie critic. The Celluloid Spy.
And I’m afraid of the dark.
Yeah, I hire mailroom interns to stand in for me at movie screenings.
My trademark trenchcoat, fedora, and fake beard make sense now, right?
So, when you wonder if the critic saw the same movie you did, you’re right: I didn’t.
But here’s the thing. I’ve been perfectly accurate in my plot synopses and ratings.
Stupid kid, getting hit by that truck.
Never saw that coming.
For The Soul
A friend told me to read “Chicken Soup For The Soul” so I went to the bookstore.
There were so many other books about chicken soup for various souls.
Shelves and shelves of books.
I don’t have time to read them all.
I was intimidated by all the different books, so I left the bookstore and went to the grocery store.
I reached for Campbell’s Chicken Soup, but then I saw Chicken And Stars, Chicken And Rice, Chunky Chicken And Noodle, a store generic…
Shelves and shelves of soup.
Wait… hold on…
Oh, I forgot: I’m allergic to chicken soup.
Temple
When he retired, Max built a workout shed and wrote THE BODY IS A TEMPLE over the door.
He exercised every day. Rain or shine, heat or blizzard.
One day, while walking to the workout shed, he felt a strange feeling behind his right ear.
Everything went black, and Max dropped to the ground, dead from a stroke.
Max had kept to himself, so it was the overflowing mailbox that was the first sign something was wrong.
The mailman went into the back yard and saw the body covered with flies and other things.
Temple? No.
More like a buffet.
Puzzle
Owen is only a year old, but he solves puzzles.
He never puts the pieces in his mouth or tosses them into the air.
Instead, he picks out sides and corners and snaps the puzzle together quickly.
When he’s done, he moves on to the next puzzle.
No Legos.
No Tinkertoys, blocks or Lincoln Logs.
He smiles and waits for a puzzle.
I gave him an all-white puzzle, and he solved it just as quickly.
Monica left the fridge open this morning.
Owen crawled in, and started to assemble the food within.
That’s when we heard the moaning.
And screaming.
Creation
I stepped out of the time machine and tripped over a dead cougar.
A deep voice hissed “Who’s that?”
I got back up and rubbed my eyes, not quite sure I was seeing what I was seeing.
It was God, standing at a workbench, piled high with burnt and bloody animal parts.
Behind him, stacks of scorched trees and polluted rivers and other things.
“I went back in time to witness Creation?” I gasped.
“No, you went forward,” God growled. “After the nuclear war. I’m just trying to scrape something together.”
He pointed a lightning bolt at me. “Without humans.”
The Tale Winner
The Canterbury Tales are a collection of stories about a group of pilgrims heading to a shrine, passing the time with a storytelling contest.
The winner was to get a free meal upon return from the pilgrimage.
Today, only a portion of the manuscripts are known to the public, as many tales are missing, and we are left without knowing who won the contest.
Until today.
Reading the ancient papers on a lighted workbench, I learn of a man dressed in a black cloak and hood, silent as the night, dining alone.
Yes, it’s true.
The Ninja won the contest.
Weedhaven
Listen to the children.
Laughing.
Crying.
Screaming.
Another fine day at The Weedhaven Laughing Academy.
They are all in their pajamas.
They are all in their rooms.
They are all in their beds.
Laughing.
Crying.
Screaming.
Will we let them out?
Will we let them play?
Will we let them have fun today?
No, no matter how much they laugh.
Or cry.
Or scream.
Check the locks on the doors.
Check them twice.
And check them again.
Don’t worry about the bars on the windows.
There are no bars.
Or windows.
Just walls.
To contain the children.
Laughing.
Crying.
Screaming.