They showed me the activist’s profile.
“Professional protester. Trust fund baby. San Francisco.”
They let that out slowly: “San Francisco.”
Photos of a Pride parade, love and peace.
I saw him in a Gaza City cafe, sat down, and said “If I shouted Gay and you shouted Jew, who would they kill first?”
“Don’t,” he begged.
Where’s your pride now?
Coward.
That night, in bed, I told my boyfriend.
“Fucking faggots,” he said, and he held me as we laughed.
When I heard he was dying, I wrote him.
Wished there was a cure for his condition: hypocrisy and hate.
Category: My stories
Earworm
Earworms are songs you can’t get out of your head.
Usually, they’re bad songs.
But this one is good. Better than good. A reminder that not all is lost. And there’s hope.
It’s like an angel on my shoulder, whispering in my ear. Don’t despair. Don’t give up hope.
You can make a miracle happen.
On my other shoulder, the devil there tries to convince me otherwise. Tells me that things can will get worse, horrifying, it’ll never end.
The music drowns out his babble and chatter, and he screams for me to fear, for sweat and terror to drink.
Ode To A Troll
if i could press
a magical button
and wipe you
from existence
i’d press that button
but
i wouldn’t just press that button
i’d press that button
in style!
there would be a parade
with elephants
and horses
while marching bands played
girls in short skirts
twirling batons on fire
and old men in fezzes
what are they called?
shriners?
shriners!
went around
on those scooters.
and bringing up the rear
a massive cannon
that would fire me across
two football fields
my hand outstretched
smacking that button
and sending your
ugly
disgusting
evil
miserable
vile
obnoxious
ass
to
hell
Rest Home
It’s been quiet at home ever since we took Grampa to the rest home and his horse Old Paint to the glue factory.
He rode that horse everywhere… to the store… to the mailbox… to the bathroom…
We’re supposed to let him get his bearings for a few days at the retirement community, but the next day we missed him something fierce, so we all got in the truck and headed over.
I opened the door and…
Saw Old Paint standing in his room.
“Where’s Grampa?” I said.
We got back in the truck and raced to the glue factory.
The Adventures of Mustard Man – Chapter 19
The agency with the Mustard Man account wanted to try a new approach to their client’s product.
Instead of a picnic or ballpark emergency requiring the entrance of the superhero Mustard Man to save the day, they envisioned a Hansel And Gretel story.
Instead of the bread crumbs, though, they left a trail of Mustard Man Mustard to lead them all the way back home.
“It’s to highlight how much mustard there is in a Mustard Man Mustard bottle,” said the pitchman.
The public hated the commercial, sales dropped, and he lost the account.
Fire up the Mustard Man Signal!
Exoplanet
Scientists made a list of Earth-like exoplanets.
The first set of seeder pods full of colonizing bacteria were ready when the meteorites began to fall into the ocean.
Strange energy signals rose from the depths, and algae started to assemble into vegetable-based manufacturing centers, spewing plant-based exploration tendrils.
We tried to stop them. A few hundred nukes later, we thought the invaders were defeated.
They weren’t. The battle raged on for years before we finally won.
Still, one day, the plants and vegetables might rise again.
And that’s why you need to mow the lawn and eat your lima beans.
No Squid Left Behind
Due to a mixup, Fillmore High School enacted a No Squid Left Behind policy during the Bush Administration, and sure enough, the entire Senior class ended up being a swimming pool full of squid.
Which, was a shame, since the pool was filled with chlorinated fresh water, and it killed all the saltwater squid.
They weren’t bad squid at all. Well-behaved on the whole.
None of the cheerleading squad got knocked up, no fights in the hallways.
Oh, sure, academics suffered greatly. So did athletics.
You’d think they’d win State in swimming, but as I said, the pool was lethal.
Detention
After I burned the school down, Principal Green said I’d get a million years of detention.
All he managed to do was expel me.
“But it’s going on your permanent record!” he shouted, shaking his fist.
Getting out of school was the best thing that ever happened to me. I could continue my scientific research uninterrupted by gym and French, and within a year I had a cure for cancer.
Soon after, by extending the telomeres of DNA, a cure for death.
People could live forever.
After I received my Nobel Prize, the cops showed up. “Now about that detention…”
The Speed Of Pie And Ice Cream
The speed of light is faster than the speed of sound, that’s why you see lightning before you hear thunder.
Dr. Fred Beamer’s spent his whole life researching this phenomenon.
Well, he was supposed to be researching it.
I looked through his file and found that he’d expensed years of meals at a local diner to the university.
“What?” Dr. Fred said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I thought I was supposed to be researching pie and ice cream.”
He got me added to his grant. And if you keep quiet, he’ll add you, too.
Now try the blueberry.
Skipping Stones
My pocket is full of small stones.
They’re all flat and round, perfect for skipping.
I love to skip stones on the water.
I love to watch the ripples on the water.
Reminds me of growing up by the lake, spending the whole afternoon out there with my dog and a bottle of Coke, the fish weren’t biting, so I’d put down the fishing rod and skip stones.
The angles.
The rotation.
The spin.
A great way to pass the time, right?
Okay, so maybe not in the fountain in the mall. Sorry.
(Can I have my fishing pole back?)