Take a deep breath.
Smell the gym.
It’s a different smell than anywhere else.
Get on the scale.
Get in the ring.
Get these gloves on.
Now open your mouth so we can swab your cheek and put in this mouthguard.
What’s the swab for? Painkillers?
No. It’s for DNA.
The league wants us to clone you.
That way, your opponent can have you as a sparring partner to train against.
And you can have him.
That way, you’ll both be ready and give a good fight.
Better than the last one, where you got your ass killed.
Literally.
*DING*
Category: My stories
Turning Ten
My son turns ten today.
We’re going to have a big party for him: clowns, bouncy house, his friends, so many presents, and a cake.
Then, when the party’s over, the leasing company will come by to pick him up.
Most parents choose up the option to buy, but we’ve been wanting another baby, so we’re sending this one back.
This time, we’ll just do a two-year lease. Avoid those Terrible Twos, that whole First Day Of School thing.
I don’t mind changing diapers, really.
Everything’s up in the attic, but we’ll get it later.
Oh, and Happy Birthday, son!
Multiplying
Long ago, my Christian friends tried to teach me about Jesus.
So, I sat there and listened while they regurgitated everything they’d learned in Sunday School.
I agreed that the guy sounded like a really cool dude and did some amazing things, but I never understood the whole “multiplying the loaves and the fishes” miracle.
Sure, I was good at Math, but I never figured out how someone could multiply bread by a fish.
“What’s pumpernickel times trout?” I asked them. “Or whole wheat times salmon?”
In the end, they thought me a heretic.
Whatever. Their math is still fishy.
Honorary
I’m not very smart.
Sure, I’ve got me a college degree. It’s up there on the wall somewhere.
But there’s no way I’ll ever get a masters. Or a doctorate.
Now, my brother, he’s smart. Got all of those and more. When he’s not inventing things that make everybody’s life better and easier, he’s collecting honorary doctorates by the truckload.
That’s when I decided to collect honorary Academic Probations and Expulsions.
I just got back from England here Oxford and Cambridge condemned me, and this week is a run through the East Coast for Princeton and Yale.
Call me, Harvard.
Friend
I murdered Anderson.
I murdered Baker.
I murdered Collins.
And I’m going to murder Davis tonight.
I’m going to murder my way through the entire alphabet.
I know what you’re thinking.
You last name is Xiao. If I get that far, will I murder you?
No. I’m going to murder Ximenes.
I’d never murder you. You’re my friend.
Anderson, Baker and Collins were never my friends.
And that’s why I killed them all.
Them and Davis.
Davis dies tonight.
Maybe I’ll finish with three or four at once.
Xiao, Yancy, and Zimmerman.
What?
Sorry, I meant Ximenes.
See ya, friend.
Slipping Away
We all gathered around Aunt Gertrude’s bed and watched as she slowly slipped away.
“She’s slid off the bed!” shouted Cousin Eddie. “Catch her!”
Yeah, we’d warned the hospice workers that Gertrude had a thing for slathering with grease, but they watched television instead of Gertie, and she’d hidden a tub of it under her pillow.
Uncle Larry made a grab for her, narrowly missing. She slipped past all of us, out the door, and down the hall.
Oh well. At least she didn’t fade away like Grandma Phyllis.
(We still trip over her invisible body every now and then.)
All the world’s a stage…
All the world’s a stage
But unlike those women and men
Who are merely players
With their exits and entrances
We are the guys who run the box office
Selling tickets to people
Who have nothing better to do
Than watch the same old shit
Happen over and over and over
Sure, some do it better than others
The ushers come in and tell us
“Hey, this one dude, he’s good!”
We take turns, close a window
Watch for a while, get bored
And come back to the box office
Reopen the window, and ask
“How many for the show?”
I can hear the television cameras
They say I am the Bobby Fischer of Tiddly Winks.
I say I am better than he was at… at…
Play chess?
Piss people off?
Hate Jews?
Whatever he did, I am better at Tiddly Winks than what he did.
He had his board, his pieces.
His outbursts.
I have my squidger, my winks, my mat, and my cup.
Blitz! Blitz! Blitz!
Pot them all fast!
One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six!
Now I wait for my partner… and…
NO!
COME ON, YOU COULD HAVE MADE THAT SHOT!
Hurry up! Hurry up!
Hurry up, doctors…
Hurry up and clone me!
The Cake Of Damocles
The Tyrant of Syracuse, Dionysius, welcomed the rebel Damocles into his home, offering his throne to the visitor.
“It’s all yours,” he said. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you,” said Damocles, and he sat down.
It was then that he looked up and saw a red and white cake, suspended over the throne.
“What’s with the cake?”
“It represents the threat those in power must live under every day.”
“Threat of cake? But I like cake.”
“Then I guess you like danger.”
That’s when the cake fell, and the sword inside it impaled Damocles.
“Oh, did I forget to mention it’s strawberry swordcake?”
The Trouble With Truffles
The trouble with truffles
Is how much they cost
If the truffle is bad
Think how much you’ve lost
Dull aroma? Dull flavor?
Yes? And you simmered it right?
Then you must go to the store
And prepare for a fight!
The store owner laughs twice
“What are you, a dope?
It’s no truffle at all,
But a bar of black soap!”
“Then where is my truffle?”
Your blind rage is all spent.
Falling down to the floor
And then notice… your scent.
Back home in your shower
Sitting there in a tray
Is a decaying truffle
melting slowly away.