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.
Category: My stories
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?)
Fix
Long ago, back before computers, I was a typewriter repairman.
People got all kinds of things stuck in their typewriters.
Once, I remember a guy dropping his old Underwood on the counter and saying “My colon is stuck.”
“You should eat some prunes,” I responded, and I got out my tools.
It took me just 20 minutes to fix it.
The next day, he comes in, and the typewriter is soaking wet.
“I tried the prunes,” he said. “I’m allergic and threw up.”
Into the typewriter. Which he ran through the dishwasher.
That took longer than 20 minutes to fix.
Water Fight
There’s nothing that says summertime fun quite like water balloon fights.
We’d fill up balloons with water, train them to fight, and then take them down to the barrio where the best fighting pits were.
The hardest part about water balloon fights is strapping on the razor blade spurs without popping the balloons. With all the people shouting and passing money back and forth, it’s difficult to keep your elbow from getting jogged and your grip slipping.
Then, there’s the cops.
One trainer shouts “RAID!” and everyone scatters.
Just don’t throw the balloons at them. Especially the ones with spurs.
Occam
Occam The Philosopher had a face that was as smooth as a baby’s butt, and he was quite proud of it.
“I have a very sharp razor,” said Occam. “I also have very expensive shaving cream, a soft lathering brush, a silver mirror, and a rare herbal aftershave.”
“Isn’t that horribly complicated?” I replied. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to use a depilatory cream?”
“Sometimes the simplest solution isn’t the best one,” Occam said.
Many years later, I saw him hawking an all-in-one shaving contraption on television.
“Just one button!” he shouted. “What could be simpler?”
Growing a beard, I thought.
i Vacuum
I bought one of those robotic vacuum cleaners.
Cool device, but it ran out of power before it finished vacuuming my floor. Way too many repeated routes running down the battery.
I thought about putting a bigger battery in it.
Nah. Not elegant.
I popped open the case, hooked it to my computer, and hacked the route programming.
It compiled, rebooted, and sat there.
And then vanished.
Scratching my head, I looked back over my program and checked my math.
The italic “I” was in red.
Imaginary numbers. Non-existent hyperspace.
Oops.
I called Support.
It’s not covered by the warranty.
The Boy Who Never Laughed
Dr. Odd was presented with the case of The Boy Who Never Laughed.
The first week was spent reading joke books to him.
No reaction.
After that, he dressed as a clown and performed various silly acts, such as juggling Bunsen burners or constructing molecular formulas and atomic structures out of balloons.
No reaction.
Finally, the doctor tickled The Boy with feathers of various species of bird, common and rare.
“Coochy coo!” he trilled.
No reaction.
Exhausted, Dr. Odd slumped in his chair…. and fell to the floor.
The Boy laughed and laughed.
Dr. Odd punched him in the face.
The Ship
That, my friend, is no ordinary model of a ship.
Behold, The Magnificent Mechanism of Master Craftsman Blert!
What a fine galleon is it, rendered in miniature with the most exquisite rare woods, semi-precious stones, spun silks, and intricate gears.
It is not just an ornamental centerpiece, mind you. It is also highly functional.
Pull the anchor chain to play music.
The sails are endless self-cleaning napkins.
The cannon fire pepper, salt, or any number of spices for your meal.
Dip your fingers in the fingerbowl-hold to wash them… or is that the cigar-cutter?
Bow, stern. I get so confused.
The Llama
Somewhere outside Peru, I have a vision of the llama.
“Gold is the sweat of the sun and Silver is the tears of the moon,” he says.
And vanishes.
I kneel down, digging through the dirt with my hands.
I pick out a small silver and gold llama, exquisitely crafted by the Inca many centuries ago.
It is beautiful. It is magnificent.
It is worth a fortune.
Laughing in the heat, this is no mirage, no delusion.
I wipe my sweating brow with my handkerchief, and look…
The cloth is covered with gold.
I rise from the ground, burning… burning…
The Princesses
The legendary Silk Princess concealed the worms, baskets, looms, mulberry leaves and other means of production in her headdress to steal the industry from China.
The Stationwagon Princess, on the other hand, stuck all the components and supply-chain of the auto industry into her headdress in an attempt to smuggle off the mystery of stationwagon production to her people.
The similarities end there.
Unlike the Silk Princess, the Stationwagon Princess has no legends surviving into modern times. Also, unlike the highly-valued silk, nobody wants stationwagons anymore.
So take off those ugly-assed stationwagon panties and get your ass to bed, dear.