Downtown. Valentine’s Day.
We found the body of a baby with wings in the alley.
There were three pink-shafted arrows in its chest, valentine in its hand.
“Suicide note,” grunts my partner, barely looking up from his coffee “Nothing to see here.”
“Nothing to see, Joe?” I asked. “Suicide shot himself three times in the chest, did he? A freak baby with wings, nothing to see?”
Joe stared deep into my eyes. “When love dies, you don’t want to know. Too much pain.”
Poor Joe. Guy’s hit bottom.
I guess I’ll give him the flowers and chocolates some other time.
Category: My stories
The Tip Of The Iceberg
For some reason, no matter what the circumstances, Jackson and I always end up arguing.
“This is just the tip of the iceberg!” shouted Jackson.
I ask him to show me the tip.
So, he pulls it out of his pocket.
I thought about my high school Physics: buoyancy and displacement will lift the rest of the iceberg up to replace the tip.
Then I thought of English classes: Hemingway said writing is like an iceberg: ten percent above the water while ninety percent below.
Finally, I thought of Jackson’s sister, the cheerleader.
Man, she’s hot!
I love these arguments.
Baptized
Know what’s fun?
Getting baptized.
I’m not talking about one of those sprinkle-water-in-my-face baptisms.
I’m talking about a go-down-to-the-river baptism.
You see, I’m a mermaid. And when I get in the water, my legs transform back into a tail.
Then I laugh and swim away.
It really scares the crap out of the congregation.
Although, you’ve gotta be careful when planning these pranks.
Make sure it happens in a river and it’s deep enough to escape.
You do not want to end up dragged to a swimming pool at the local Y.
“You just baptized me!” I yelled.
No dice.
Heartstrings
Sonya was good, her family said, but she wanted to be the absolute best.
“For the best music,” said The Devil, “you must string your violin with heartstrings. They resonate with unmatched beauty.”
So, at her concerts, playing her best, she captured heart after beating heart, luring the men to her home to harvest the strings she needed.
Still, she didn’t sound like the best of all.
The Devil laughed. “They have to be from people you love the most.”
Her mother.
Her father.
Her sister.
Herself.
The Devil laughed at the carnage, rosined Sonya’s bow, and played.
Magnificent!
Cling
Sometimes, we cling to things. Other times, things cling to us.
Usually, it’s easy to tell the difference. But when it comes to Stanley and Life, not so.
At first, we thought that Stanley was clinging to Life.
Then, upon further examination, we saw that Life was clinging to Stanley.
We debated the merits of both perspectives while Stanley shouted “HEY! SOMEONE HELP ME!”
Stanley was clinging to the guardrail, and his grip was slipping.
“Or is the guardrail clinging to you, Stanley?” I asked.
Stanley lost his grip, and fell into the chasm, screaming.
The argument’s moot now, huh?
The Question
I was walking down the street when a pair of street thugs grabbed me by my arms and dragged me into an alley.
“Tell us what we want to know,” said a third thug.
“What do you want to know?” I asked.
The thug scowled and punched me in the stomach.
“Tell us,” he said.
It took a minute to get my wind back, but I got back up and asked again.
The thug beat me in the stomach ten.. twenty… thirty times.
Morse code?
It took a minute to decipher: “How do you, Laurence, write a 100 word story?”
The Scar
I take it you’ve seen the scar on Captain Blood’s neck.
He claims he got it from a duel.
In a way, I suppose that’s the truth, but it wasn’t a fair duel.
His strategy is to draw his sword, then pull a pistol and shoot his opponent in the chest.
Once, he had a misfire, and was forced to reach for his other pistol.
That gun fired true and killed his opponent.
So how was he cut?
He slashed his own neck, reaching for the other pistol.
Don’t tell him that, though.
Or he’ll challenge you to a duel.
Chilly
He was a hockey player, she was an Olympic figure skater.
So it stood to reason that they’d hold the wedding out on the ice.
Invitations went out to their families, friends, managers, agents, teammates and fellow performers.
However, when the day of the wedding arrived, very few people actually showed up.
The groom was huffing mad, his breath fogging the air.
The bride was in tears, freezing on her face.
They looked for their wedding planner and demanded to know why nobody was showing up.
“You wanted an ice rink wedding,” he said. “And they expected a chilly reception!”
Fours
In poker, a pair of fours is known as sailboats.
I don’t like boats. I get seasick just looking at them.
And why would I want two sailboats? That’s twice the maintenance cost, twice the slip fees.
“Well, if one’s being repaired, you’ve got the other one?” says the dealer.
“Yeah, if I’m crazy enough to buy a sailboat, I’m going to want to have a backup for when I miss the thrill of vomiting,” I respond.
Isn’t that just like a dealer, trying to sell you on another damn hole in the water to pour money into?
I fold.
The Masturbation Fairy
You’ve heard of the Tooth Fairy, but what about the Masturbation Fairy?
She shows up at night and slips porn under your pillow. Or between the mattress and the box spring of your father’s side of the bed.
What she collects, well, maybe that’s better left unsaid.
What she does with all that stuff, well, I have no idea.
For certain, she’s busier than Santa Claus.
He just flies around the world once a year, and he only visits the good boys and girls.
The Masturbation Fairy visits everybody, all year round.
And the lump in their stockings isn’t coal.