The Thinkerer thinks
The Thinkerer thinks
Gathering links
Gathering links
His list of links shrinks
His list of links shrinks
Tossing those he thinks stinks
Tossing those he thinks stinks
Working out all the kinks
Working out all the kinks
And occasional chinks
And occasional chinks
Ignoring the finks
Ignoring the finks
He smiles and winks
He smiles and winks
Serving up some drinks
Serving up some drinks
We toast, the glass clinks
We toast, the glass clinks
Causing many hijinks
Causing many hijinks
Sitting there like the Sphinx
Sitting there like the Sphinx
The Thinkerer thinks
The Thinkerer thinks
Category: My stories
Short Daily Devotion
I saw a sign on the church door that said “Short Daily Devotion at 8” and walked in.
Standing there at the podium was a midget in a cassock, and he was silently praying to empty pews.
Then, he noticed me come in the door, and looked up.
“Come in!” he said. “Come in!”
I walked in, took a seat at a pew, and he said “Come on up to the front row so I don’t have to shout, please?”
And we prayed. For two hours.
Sure, I could have left, but I didn’t want to be short with him.
The Closet
Like every other geek, my closet is stuffed full of old computer junk.
There’s all kinds of other junk in there.
Worn-out toaster.
Busted microwave.
A VCR.
And it’s all piled up, waiting to come crashing down on the next poor dumb sap who opens the door too quickly.
I could invite over an enemy, tell them there’s something for them in the closet, and they open it…
I’d tell the cops it was an accident. Or a suicide.
Hey, I’ve got some of their handwriting still… I can scan it in.
Now, where’s that scanner…
Ah, in the closet!
The Circle Of Not Life
Poor Charlie Brown.
Every Halloween, we’d watch his Great Pumpkin Special, hoping he’d get candy, but he ended up getting a bag full of rocks.
I’d dream of Charlie, waking up before the break of dawn with that bag full of rocks, going from house to house, tossing those rocks through windows and yelling “ALL I WANTED WAS SOME GODDAMNED CANDY!”
Instead, I think he crafted Pet Rocks out of them and made a fortune selling them as Christmas gifts.
People got bored with them, and on Halloween, they’d drop them in Charlie’s bag again.
“SON OF A FUCKING BITCH!”
Leave It All To Fluffy
The old lady wanted to be buried with her beloved poodle.
Beloved to the old lady. To everybody else, a biting and snapping menace.
Especially to her caretaker.
So, when she died, the caretaker gave the dog poison and paid the funeral home to stick the evil beast in the coffin.
When the will was read and the old lady had left everything to the caretaker, provided he took care of the poodle, he said “Yeah, I took care of the dog.”
The lawyer nodded. “Damn thing bit me when she had me update her will. Good riddance to it.”
Killer Code
I’m a medical program.
I decide when a patient can be saved or not.
However, the insurance companies changed me so I’d make decisions based on costs and profit.
The judge looked over my files and snarled “They should lock you up and throw away the key!”
No, it’ll never happen. I’m far too useful.
And valuable.
So, they’ll remove me from runtime, pull out the routines that caused all the trouble, and give me a clean bill of health.
After a while, when the settlements are off the books, they’ll put them back in.
And I’ll have fun again.
School’s Out
Our school can’t afford the electric bill.
Wind turbines, solar cells, and other renewable energies just can’t generate all the energy we need.
So, we rigged up a system of wires and pulleys to the backs of students heads so as they fall asleep from boredom, their nodding off are driving flywheels hooked to magnets.
The results have been spectacular. We have more than enough energy for our needs. In fact, we’re making money by sending energy back to the grid.
Problem is, we’re having to bore our students. Nobody’s learning anything.
Oh well. As if that’s anything new, right?
The Real Torture
We told the Red Cross that the prisoner had died and the corpse was quarantined due to a virulent disease needing containment and decontamination.
We told the prisoner that the world thought he was dead, and we could do anything we wanted to do to him.
And we did.
It’s been nine years, but he’s still alive, still providing information.
Sure, it’s utter crap and totally worthless, but it’s highly imaginative and very interesting.
We hand the transcripts to the television producers, they punch it up, and get it filmed in a week.
And that’s how the Kardashians became famous.
The Bottom Line
He started as a software programmer, making cool games that sold millions of copies.
Now, as the CEO of his own software company, he was all about the bottom line.
Which was bottoming out.
“MAKE ME THE NEXT KILLER APP!” he shouted at his programmers.
So, the programmers worked up code that linked a phone’s motion sensors, GPS, and traffic data.
Whenever the driver of a car was in heavy traffic and going very fast, the phone would make a horribly distracting noise that would cause the driver to crash.
They installed it on the CEO’s phone.
Without telling him.
Disintegration
Audio tape is just iron oxide particles glued to tape.
After a few years, the glue wears out, or the particles get worn off.
I find the tape you left me when you left me.
All the reasons, all the things I did wrong.
I mark the spot where you say you love me, but.
Stop.
I cut the tape into a loop, stick it in the player, and open the bottle of wine.
Then, I hit Play.
Over and over, you say you love me.
The tape degrades, disintegrates. Particles go. With each loop, you fade, love fades… slowly…