Whenever Joey is bad, I tell him to fetch my belt and meet me behind the shed.
He stands there, holding out my belt.
I take it from him and put it on. “Darn trousers keep slipping without it.”
I grab his head by the ears, twist it off, and take it into the shed where I keep his spare parts.
There’s two heads on the workbench, but one’s torn down.
I put down the head in my hands and pick up the other.
When I go back outside, Joey’s gone.
When I find him, yeah, he’s getting the belt.
Category: My stories
Twenty Years Ago
Doctor Odd remembered his grandfather saying “The best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago.”
So, he built a time machine and seed-spreading hoverdrones.
“If twenty years ago is the best time, then forty years ago is better!” Doctor Odd muttered to himself.
He pressed the ENGAGE button…
And he blacked out.
Coming to, he rubbed his head and his hands came back bloody.
“Damn it,” he grumped, and tried to stand up.
His head hit a tree branch.
His workshop was now a thick forest.
Looking around, he saw trees everywhere.
And heard the howls of wolves.
Uranus
Dave’s sons were at his funeral, in chains and guarded by marshals.
Now, when I say sons, I really mean genetic clones.
Dave grew them in his twenties and raised them as his sons, but an accident at work left him crippled and sick.
His doctors told him they could replace what was damaged with donor material from his sons.
So, he invited them to dinner, drugged them, and faked signatures on consent forms.
When they awoke, they found themselves weary and mutilated.
One was dead, missing his heart and liver.
They had their savage revenge on the medical Uranus.
Moving Hassles
I really hate moving.
It’s such a hassle, packing and loading and unloading and unpacking and filing claims and all that crap.
Now when I get a new place, I pay someone to steal all my stuff.
Then, I report it and the insurance company pays to replace it.
All new stuff shows up at my new place by delivery van, and for a few bucks, they assemble and set it all up.
Except one thing… the guys I paid to rob me found out where I live, and they robbed me again.
Oh well.
Let’s go out to eat.
Cord
My wife shook me awake.
“There’s an extension cord running into the sewer,” she said.
So I got up, put on my robe and slippers, and went outside.
Sure enough, an orange extension cord led to the sewer.
I tugged on it
It didn’t budge.
The other end led down the street for a bit, and then went straight up… and up…
I swear, it went as far as I could see, right towards the sun.
I tugged down on it.
And it came loose.
We ran inside as miles of orange cord came falling down from the darkening sky.
Sic Semper Tyrannis?
It starts with the rumors on Twitter.
“Ghadafi captured.”
Then come the rumors that he’s been killed.
Jokes that Ghadafi’s captured, Khadafi killed, and Qadafy’s denying it all.
A photo appears. People shout “Photoshop!”
Finally, confirmation. He’s dead.
Drudge Report posts a photo of Obama shaking hands with Ghadafi.
Ghadafi’s in one of his wacked-out robes, looking like Keith Richards gone mad in a bazaar.
I mutter “Why is he shaking hands with that asshole?”
“It’s diplomacy,” says my friend. “Even dictators like Ghadafi get basic respect.”
I laugh. “I mean why is Ghadafi shaking hands with that asshole Obama?”
Third Eye
I once asked a mystic why they called it a “third eye.”
They said they had tried to use “center eye” and “middle eye” but people got them confused with Cyclops.
“What if a Cyclops is psychic?” I responded. “Do they have a second eye? And what about people born without eyes?”
We got horribly bogged down in semantics, and I think it was when I asked if a blind psychic had a fifth sense that he took a punch at me.
I ducked his punch, threw a right hook, and knocked him out cold.
“Didn’t see that one coming.”
In What Size?
We get a lot of catalogs in the mail.
Especially during the holidays.
Some of them are geek toy catalogs for me, but by far my wife gets more of the furniture, clothing, and fancy stuff catalogs.
Sometimes, I circle something interesting and leave it in her chair.
She does the same to me, circling stuff she might want and leaving it in my workbag.
One day, there’s a Victoria’s Secret catalog in the bag.
I look through it, but nothing’s circled.
Except for the name.
Mine.
It’s my catalog?
I laugh, and write “What size do you want this?”
The Elegant Elephant
The Elegant Elephant
Dons his top hat
Puts on a tuxedo
Gives his wallet a pat
“Where are the tickets
To the opera?” he thinks
”Are they lost? Are they gone
If they are, well, that stinks”
”They’re at the box office”
Says his wife, heaving sighs
”I knew that, I knew that”
The old elephant lies
His wife says “You’re senile
Or maybe you’re drunk
If it weren’t attached
You’d forget your trunk!”
“How do I look?”
“I think you look fine.”
She gives him a stare.
“I mean, you look simply divine.”
And they had a good time.
Sockpuppet
Nobody paid Walter Drub any notice.
But his sockpuppet, Senator Fenton, was leading the polls in October. Practically a shoe-in for the presidency.
I can’t explain how this happened. It’s just as weird to me as it is to you, and I’m his chief of staff.
But somehow, Boston elected a sockpuppet mayor, then senator, and now the entire country was falling in love with him.
Sadly, it all came crashing down when Walter tried to wash Fenton, and he vanished in the dryer.
He tried using a right sock.
“Impostor!” people shouted, and poor Walter ran for his life.