The book commands The People to speak with one voice.
“Does this mean only one of us speaks?” asks Brother Timothy. “Or does the book want us to speak the same way?”
Brother Timothy is from Brookyln.
Brother Eustus is from Waco.
Brother Philip is from Chicago.
None of them have the same accent, although they do of Eustus’ thick Southern drawl from time to time.
The brothers all turn to Brother Maynard.
He is clutching his ventriloquist’s dummy, trembling with fear.
“Brother Woodenhead can take a vow of silence!” he whimpers.
They toss the robed dummy into the fireplace.
Category: My stories
The Only Way
Whenever someone tells me that something is the only way to do something, I challenge myself to try to think up another way to do it.
Sometimes, I come up with a much better way, and I propose it to them as a viable alternative.
“It’s easier, less expensive, and is much safer to do,” I say, going through the plans. “Plus, it doesn’t cause any pollution.”
The other person scowls angrily. “You cannot do this because God says not to.”
I do it anyway, because if God doesn’t want me to do things cheaper, safer, and easier, fuck Him.
A Twist Of Lime
“A twist of lime,” says the man in the green suit to the bartender.
“With what?” the bartender asks.
“Nothing. Just the lime.”
The bartender slices up the lime and the man in the green suit lays on the bar, staring up at the glasses and lights hanging over it.
He opens his mouth and says “Go for it.”
The bartender shrugs, squeezes a lime wedge into the man’s mouth.
The man in the green suit sits up with a grumble, wincing with disgust.
“I said twist, not squeeze!” He lays back.
The bartender twists another wedge.
“Oh… so… good.”
Barge
Midnight. Bloodfang Dock.
The tugboat slowly guides the barge to rest.
Captain Grim hobbles across the deck.
“Two thousand for a dozen, vampire,” he croaks.
“All alive?” I ask.
“When I last checked,” he says. “Hungry?”
I give him the money, and he throws open the hold.
“Out!” he yells, pulling a rope, tied-together soot-covered children stumble out in single file.
When the last is on the dock, he laughs, and I order the tugboat to shove the barge away.
I pull out a knife… and cut the rope. “You’re free now, children.”
They run, laughing.
(I’ll hunt them later.)
Unfolding
Lao Tsu is a master of the art of Unorigami.
What is Unorigami?
It is the opposite of Origami, the Japanese art of paper-folding.
He can unfold folded paper in a way that you never see a crease. It’s as if the paper was never folded.
He’s so quick, you can toss a paper airplane past him and the next thing you know, a flat sheet of paper wafts slowly to the ground.
For his birthday, I gave him a sweater.
He puts it on and thanks me.
Then he hands back the gift-wrap, spooled around the cardboard tube again.
Writing Trouble
I’m having trouble writing.
I try to think of things to write, but I just can’t find inspiration.
So, I went out for coffee.
There was a girl there with bandaged hands, and she was barely able to hold her coffee.
“Carpal tunnel,” she says. “Surgery messed up. Six months.”
I got her a frozen coffee with a straw, and we talked.
She’s also a writer. Has lot of ideas, just can’t write them all down.
I offered to transcribe them for her.
“Oh, I’ve got a voice to text program,” she said, getting up. “Thanks for the coffee, though.”
Bananas
I like bananas.
Twice a week, I buy bananas.
I go so often because I eat a lot of bananas and they go bad so quickly.
I’d go once a week, but by the end of the week, all that’s left are bananas I don’t want to eat.
Brown bananas. Blech.
Plus, I walk to the store, and buying so many bananas at once can be a burden. Or they get mashed up from being so heavy in the bag.
I wish someone would deliver bananas.
Maybe I can order a banana pizza and tell them to hold the pizza.
Yogurt
I’m on a diet, and I need to eat yogurt.
So, to get me into the habit of eating yogurt, I hired a guy to tie me to a chair every morning and force me to eat yogurt.
He did that “Here comes the airplane!” and “Here comes the choo-choo train!” thing with the spoon, but I said that was silly.
He said I was being a bad boy, and dragged me in the chair to the basement.
The good news is, I’ve lost a lot of weight.
Maybe I can slip out of these ropes and escape some day.
Eight Weddings And A Funeral
Elizabeth Taylor’s publicist announced that the Academy Award-winning actress died at the age of 79.
What does she do now?
No, not Elizabeth. Her job’s done.
Sure, there will be endorsements, licensing, and re-releases of her movies until the end of time, but that’s for her estate to do. The woman has a funeral or two to attend, and that’s it.
I’m thinking about the publicist. Unless she’s got other clients, her gig’s done.
Some folks are praying for the soul of Elizabeth Taylor.
Me, I’m praying for the publicist. I hope they get work soon in this awful economy.
Making Yesterday Better
Want to know how to make today better?
Look at it in hindsight tomorrow.
Everything’s better once you get past it.
The bad stuff, well, it’s over. Lick your wounds and move on.
The good stuff, you have memories of. Helps you to get through the bad stuff.
Either way, no matter what you’re going through, it’s always better when it’s in the past.
As for the future, that’s another story.
Who knows what will be in your path, and if you look far enough ahead, the path’s eventually going to come to an end.
Race you to the finish!