Category: My stories

Tuck Her In

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Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Sally.
Every night, the robot would tuck in Sally, kiss her on the forehead, and say goodnight.
The robot then would sit in a atomic-powered recharging chair for the night.
This went on every night for 500 years.
Every so often, the robot would ask Sally if she brushed her teeth or said her prayers, but it wasn’t advanced enough to take verbal commands. It just asked those things as part of a routine.
When Sally’s corpse decayed beyond recognition, the robot looked for a new house in the ruins.

197 Days

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On the one hundred and ninety-seventh day of Christmas, we dumped the egg nog in the river and sent out a lynching party to kill Santa.
“We’re sick and tired of Christmas!” we shouted over the carols blaring from department store speakers.
“One hundred ninety-seven seals clapping!” went the chorus, and began to gleefully count back down to the damn bird in the tree.
I thought I saw Santa on the streetcorner, but it was a bell-ringer for the Salvation Army.
We pulled down his pants and shoved the bell up his ass.
His screams were music to our ears.

One Calorie

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I started off by ordering a Jack Daniels and Coke.
I like Jack, but it’s a bit to harsh on the rocks for me. Sweeten it up with Coke, and it’s perfect.
For my twenties, that was my drink.
Until, of course, every calorie counted. The body slows down.
Since I didn’t want to slow down at the bar, I went with diet Coke.
Tasted close to the same. But let’s face it – Jack trumps the Coke flavor.
Then out came Coke Zero. That worked a lot better.
The single calorie I saved, well, that didn’t matter for squat.
Cheers.

To The Orcs

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John’s house had a storm drain in the back yard.
To Billy, it was a tunnel to the great underground orc kingdom.
“They made it look like a storm drain to fool the surface-dwellers,” he said.
One day, Billy took a butcher’s knife and a flashlight down the drain.
“To glory and treasure,” read the note he left on the refrigerator.
He never came back.
The police asked questions, and John kept saying “The orcs got him.”
John spent a lot of time in therapy after that.
To this day, he’s always watchful, and he never goes near storm drains.

Naming

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The dealer shook my hand and handed me the keys.
The spaceship was mine.
“What are you gonna name it?” asked the dealer. “We can paint it on the hull for you, no charge. And if you want us to work up a nice logo for it, that wouldn’t cost all that much.”
I looked the ship over, from engines to nosecone.
I drew a blank.
“How about George?” said a voice.
Was it the dealer?
No, he was gone, making another sale.
“My name is George,” said the ship. “Now let me come up with a name for you…”

Cruise

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It was a beautiful cruise ship. the Majestic, white and powerful.
Too bad the company went bankrupt.
So, what to do with an unused, unwanted cruise ship?
Someone suggested making a jail out of it. But there were protests about the conditions prisoners would be kept in.
On a cruise ship.
Right.
The military bought it in the end, practicing their anti-terrorism tactics.
When they’d stormed it as many times as they could, it was floated out to sea and used for target practice.
As if the Air Force and Navy would ever face off against cruise ships in combat.

The Teacher

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One day, a crate arrived marked TEACHER on the side.
An electrical cord dangled out from a hole.
“Plug it in for 8 hours,” a note said.
So, the principal did.
All of the kids sat quietly while the box hummed slightly.
After 8 hours, the crate was unplugged and the kids left.
Until it was school time again. Once again, kids sat down and it was plugged in.
A dozen kids showed up on Saturday, wanting to learn more.
“Go home,” said the principal.
None showed up on Sunday. They were at church, staring at a crate marked PREACHER.

The Cut

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Two rival teams of surgeons square off in the operating room.
“What are you doing here?” asks a doctor.
“Johnson at three?”
They all nod.
“Shit. Goddamned scheduling.”
The hospital administrator is called in to officiate. He tosses a coin.
“Heads,” says the anesthesiologist.
The teams scrub up, walking to opposite ends of the table.
One will work from the feet up, and the other down from the head.
“May the best team win,” says the administrator, and he drops a silk to the floor.
Under the mask, the patient breathes deep, and scalpels descend to make the opening cut.

Flower Bandit

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We checked the video twice.
A man walks into the bank, gives the teller a rose, and she hands him all the cash in the drawer.
He kisses her hand and then walks out to the street, vanishing in the crowd.
No alarm at all.
Nobody knows who he is. His face is all over the news, but he’s not armed or dangerous.
The tellers refuse to say anything about him, but they insist on keeping the flowers.
We’ve checked for fingerprints and DNA… nothing comes up.
What’s curious is that since he started, sales of flowers have gone up.

Like Clockwork

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There’s a reason why people use the phrase “Like clockwork.”
Every gear must be in perfect alignment.
Every tooth, precise, as with every escapement, spring, and wire.
It all doesn’t just fall into place.
It has to be painstakingly planned and built to utter precision.
Every piece working together in harmony.
One piece out of place, and the whole mechanism fails.
It takes a steady, patient hand to guide all the pieces into position.
Then, snap the case shut, wind it up, and listen.
Do you hear the ticking?
It’s ticking. It’s breathing.
Another watch, another clock is born.
Amen.