Category: My stories

Breaking A Leg

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She broke my heart, so I broke her fucking legs.
Well, I didn’t break her legs. There’s this guy who does that stuff for me.
I tell him what she did, and the guy said “Yeah, I’d break her fucking legs for cheating on me like that.”
Turns out that it was him. He was the one.
So, after he broke her legs, I told him to break his own legs.
That, he couldn’t do.
“I could outsource it to this guy I know…”
Never mind. Just don’t do her… it again.
He breaks legs, not promises.
Loyalty is everything.

Ten Foot Pole

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There’s some things people wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole.
Which means there’s other things that they will touch with one.
Do you have a ten foot pole?
Well, then come on in. Look around. I have a mighty fine selection of ten foot poles to choose from.
If you don’t have room for one, then maybe you’ll consider a pair of five foot poles that you can connect into a ten foot pole?
Or one of these handy extending poles… folds down into a single foot. Fits in a purse.
You know you need one. Come on in.

Sold

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That’s a mighty fine looking baby you have there.
How much will you sell that baby for?
You don’t do drugs. You don’t drink. You seem healthy enough and so does the baby.
There’s no way you can afford that baby, no matter how healthy it is. All babies get sick, need diapers… all that stuff.
It’s not easy setting a price, and nobody likes an auction for a baby, even if for a healthy one.
The market rate is fifty dollars a pound, precooked weight, but this one looks like seventy-five dollars.
Try eighty, and leave the diaper on.

Heaven and Hell

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John Lennon was half-right.
There is no Hell below us. That’s actually where Heaven is.
But above us, there isn’t only sky. In the void between the stars, that’s where condemned souls wander for all eternity.
Heaven is right under our feet, safe in the dirt. That is why we bury our dead, you know. To send them to their Heavenly reward.
It doesn’t quite work out for those who have led wicked lives. Their souls rise up, up through the clouds and into the cold vastness of space.
They never return, they never arrive anywhere.
Scattered, cast away forever.

The Pie Man – For Soupy Sales

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I never got the humor in someone getting hit in the face with a pie, but the old man on television got hit constantly with pies and people loved him for it.
Every show he was on, you knew from the moment he appeared on camera, he wasn’t going to leave without pie in his face.
Even at his funeral, it was an open casket ceremony, and he was smacked in the face by half a dozen mourners.
Two or three pies get smacked against his headstone every night.
Me, I’m stuck washing them off.
Still nothing funny about it.

Mushrooms

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Deep in the forests of North Umberland, a beam of sunshine falls upon a circle of mushrooms on which the Council Of Elder Faeries sit.
Stroking his long white beard, Gonfall the Elder spoke first. “For our first order of business, can we agree that we need to buy chairs and a conference table?” he said.
The other elves agreed. “These toadstools are always damp,” said Glistensparkle. “Going around with wet spots on our pants sucks.”
“And Pollygoogle is allergic,” mumbled Tinkerwhiskers. “Swells up like a peach.”
The Council moved to adjourn, and they flew off to the furniture store.

The Gumbo

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Cletus won’t tell me what’s in his special gumbo.
He’s scared of people learning his recipe, so not only does he buy his own groceries from the market to make it, he buys extra ingredients to throw anyone off that’s looking through the trash.
He won’t let anyone in the kitchen while he makes it.
He cleans the dishes to keep anyone from using forensic science on them.
The more blue ribbons he earns, the crazier he gets.
“Where did you hide the cameras?” he shrieks, his tinfoil hat askew on his head.
“In the vent,” I think, and smile.

Never explain the light

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There is a light under the water, about a mile offshore.
We sent a crew out.
They never came back, no answer the radio, either.
You can’t see it in the daytime, but at night, it’s bright enough to light up the ocean.
We called the Coast Guard, and they said to just let it be.
“What about the crew?” I asked.
“Hold a memorial service,” said the Coast Guard. “And fish elsewhere.”
They won’t tell us anything else. The Navy just sends us to the Coast Guard.
Whatever it is, it’s getting brighter.
And now, it’s starting to sing.

Orangeness

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I woke up early on Sunday.
Jenny’s still asleep.
I should surprise her.
Jenny likes the pumpkin spice pudding. So I dumped the powder into a plastic container, added a cup of milk, and closed the lid.
After a minute of shaking, the orange goo was all over the kitchen.
Jenny had poked holes in the lid for her frog hunting. Can’t keep them in a sealed plastic container without air holes, you know.
She woke up, looked around the kitchen, and said if I wanted to surprise her, I should do a halfway decent job of cleaning the kitchen.

Airport Security

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It’s a long way to the big city and their airport, so we built ourselves an airport right here.
Sure, we don’t own no planes, but them government folks offered up a bunch of money for airport security, so we built us an airport.
All it took was paving up Carter Road long enough to land a plane. Old Man Murphy’s hog farm is what we call a terminal, barn’s the hangar.
The security money pays for a lot of whiskey.
You can find Murphy on the road, yelling at his pigs to clear the runway.
Reckon they’ll ever fly?