Category: My stories

Files

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I can’t tell you how many times I was told something would go in my permanent file.
I always wondered where they kept those files. And if they bothered to convert all the old records to computer files when hard drives and computers got cheap.
What do they do with those things when people die? Do they burn the paper records and delete the computer files, or do they burn them to a CD or write them to a tape, stacking all the dead records in a box and putting them in a storage room?
Can this be considered immortality?

Dangerous Catch

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We haul in the nets and dump out our catch.
As usual, it’s mostly guitars. Piles and piles of acoustics, with a few electrics here and there.
In the middle of the pile rests one shiny tuba.
Dead or alive, we throw it all back.
“No banjoes,” growls the captain. “Still no banjoes.”
He clomps back into the wheelhouse to light his pipe and scowl for the rest of the trip.
As we prepare the nets for another try, I hear the siren from the Coast Guard.
They’re going to harass us about not having tuba-excluding devices on our nets.

The Drummers

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The ghostly drummers are the spirits of the dead, a parade of the ancestors of this town.
Out of nothing, they appear from an alleyway, their slow steady beat echoes throughout the city.
Uniforms crisp and bright, they march proudly past their modern progeny.
“That is your grandfather,” whispers a mother to her son.
Ba-ba died before he was born, but still, the grandson waves to his grandfather.
The grandfather does not miss a beat, doesn’t look to the waving child.
He just marches on, keeps his place in line, and they all return to the dust of another alleyway.

iSleep

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You can purchase dreams through iTunes now.
Just sync up your pillow through the wireless base station, take the iSleep pills, and in twenty minutes you’ll be asleep and ready to dream the dreams you’ve bought for the night.
One night only, unlike Blockbuster’s dreaming service that gives you five nights.
As if you’d want to dream the same thing five nights in a row.
If you think they’re too expensive, well, Microsoft is still working on their own strategy. And Google’s working on a free service, but it’s sponsored with ads.
Or, you can dream your own pathetic dreams.

Cake

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Somewhere, far away in a distant galaxy, there is a planet that is inhabited by a race of intelligent birthday cakes.
If your mother had more skills at the helm of a jump-capable star cruiser instead of in the kitchen, you’ve probably had one or two of these things.
Hunting for the right cake isn’t easy, but not because they’re aggressive or particularly fast.
Finding the right name on the icing is easy. Most cakes are blanks.
Getting the right flavor of cake, that’s the tough part.
Let’s head up to the polar regions for an ice cream cake, okay?

Judge

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The judge’s instructions started off simple, but after three hours the jury was utterly confused.
Some of the things the judge asked for them to do weren’t just illegal but downright impossible.
The foreman stood up and tried to interrupt the judge, but the judge didn’t pay him any heed and kept rambling on, getting weirder by the minute.
The foreman looked to the bailiff. The bailiff, having heard this for the better part of a decade, just shrugged and went back to staring blankly.
The stump of his left wrist was a constant, painful reminder not to get involved.

Fail

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Doctor Odd watched the mice scurry around the maze, trying to find the source of the scent of cheese.
Unlike other mazes, there was no “center” or “goal” to this one. It was just a series of loops.
And as for the cheese, well, he had smeared the walls and floors of the maze with a cloth containing a cheese scent an hour before.
The mice kept going in circles, and Doctor Odd waited for one to just give up.
Sure enough, the mice were poking their noses through the mesh on top of the maze.
They’d learned to fail.

Blacksmith

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Son, I know you want to be a blacksmith, but come over here and take a look at these swords in the display case.
Each and every one of them has a history:
Forged in hellfire.
Slew twenty dragons.
Once owned by a king.
Enchanted by the Grand Mage of the Mountain
The truth is, they’re just ordinary swords.
But the human mind is a strange thing. Give a man a sword, and it’s just a sword. But give him a sword with a history and he fights better.
And he’ll pay for that, too.
Forget blacksmithing. Go into sales.

Platform

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We were standing on the platform, waiting for the subway.
A lot of people were.
She fell on the tracks right before the train came.
“Oh my God!” someone shouted.
But God didn’t save her.
An off-duty cop came forward. He said he’d been bumped from behind, and he knocked her on to the tracks.
They never found the guy who bumped him from behind.
Because there wasn’t anyone to find.
The cop went on extended leave. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
He didn’t spend the money all at once.
“Don’t be conspicuous,” I said. “And we’ll get away with murder.”

Flowers For A Stranger

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I don’t know why I was in the cemetery at midnight, wandering around with flowers in my hand.
I don’t know any dead people.
None I’d bring flowers for, anyway.
So, I put the flowers on a headstone, said a quick prayer, and went home.
Next day, I read in the paper that there were two murders at the graveyard.
Two old men shot each other after seeing flowers on the grave. Each suspected the other of having an affair with the woman they agreed never to steal from the other.
Even in death.
Isn’t jealousy and petty rivalry wonderful?