Category: My stories

Remember To Forget

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“You have one wish left,” said the genie.
“Huh?” I said.
Where am I? What’s going on?
I was standing in an alleyway, dirty lamp in my hand with a genie sticking out of it.
“What do you mean ‘one wish left?'” I asked. “Did I have others?”
“Yes,” said the genie. “You had three.”
“Did I?” I said, scratching my head. “I don’t remember that at all. Jesus, I wish I could remember what I wished for.”
The genie vanished, and I remembered that my second wish was to forget my first.
I wish I could forget it again.

Cutting Through Grease

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George pulled a DVD from the shelf, opened the case, and poured dishwashing liquid all over it.
He watched the goo spread over the disk.
His wife walked into the room.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she said.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” said George. “I’m trying to cut through Grease.”
“You’ll do anything to get out of doing the dishes,” said George’s wife.
“Not really,” said George. “For instance: I won’t clean the toilets.”
George tried the experiment on Grease 2, and to his amazement, it split.
“Well, it was a weak movie,” said his wife.

The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln 73

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Lincoln stood on the cliff, plywood wings strapped to either arm.
The idea had come to Abe in a dream, and he’d spent the night scribbling up plans and sawing wood into crude airfoils.
“I can only trust in God I have made no mistakes,” shouted Abe, and he ran toward the cliff.
Up in Heaven, God watched the scene unfold.
“He’s early,” said Jesus.
“Then let him bounce off of a tree or something,” said God. “Or a gust of wind blow him back.”
“What if he tries again?” asked Jesus.
“Then screw him,” said God.
They watched, laughing.

The Blair Frisky Project

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I used to be able to walk around, playing with toys.
Then, a long time ago, this other orange cat showed up.
At first, he left me alone. He’d play with his toys, picking them up and walking around, howling.
Then, once day, when I was running to the litterbox, he chased me.
I swatted him good, but he didn’t give up.
The big fat grumpus who would protect me went away.
Then the little kittycat who’d beat up the big bully went away, too.
Now it’s just me and him…
Wait.
I can hear him.
Is… Is it safe?

Mister Thimble

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When I was little, I’d play Monopoly with my family.
They took the cool pieces, like the dog and the shoe.
All that was left was the hat and the thimble.
So, I put the hat on top of the thimble and called it Mister Thimble.
We were a team, Mister Thimble and I. Best of friends.
He still is my friend. I carry him everywhere.
Late at night, we talk about things.
Sometimes, we talk about you.
I like you, but Mister Thimble doesn’t like you.
Don’t say that Mister Thimble isn’t real.
He’s right here, watching you sleep.

On The Dotted Line

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The Sultan wrote The Director of NASA a large unsigned check.
“Take my beloved son into space,” he said.
He wrote a bigger unsigned check when his son failed the physical.
“Take him anyway,” he said.
When NASA reported that G-forces had stopped his son’s heart during launch, The Sultan called the NASA Administrator.
“Get my son back to me immediately so we may bury him promptly,” he said.
“It’s an eight-day mission,” said the Administrator.
“And your family is on an eight-day vacation here in my palace,” said the Sultan.
He wrote out three death warrants.
And signed them.

Miles And Miles

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Joe says when you dream of flying, you’re dreaming of sex.
When I ask him if dreaming of sex represents flying, he says “I’m not sure. Maybe.”
Then, when I ask him of what dreaming of having sex while flying is, he says “Maybe you’re dreaming of the Mile High Club.”
I asked him if there’s a “Mile Under Club” for people in really deep mines or in submarines or a “Mile Long Club” for people screwing in an RV or on a flatbed trailer.”
“Don’t forget a bus,” he said.
Yuck. Who’d want to screw someone on a bus?

How Many Angels?

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The Boss shouted “LUMEN FIT!” and there was light.
After some flickering the light went out again.
The Boss cursed up a blue streak.
“SCALAE FIT!” shouted The Boss, and a ladder appeared.
Three angels grabbed it and went up to the light.
One went up the ladder to grab it and two more turned the ladder to unscrew it from its socket.
A fourth pulled a spare out of inventory, swapped lights with the other angels, and they screwed the new one in.
The Boss smiled. It was much more efficient than needing six angels and a dinner table.

The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln 72

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Abraham Lincoln looked at the recruitment rolls and smiled.
Then, he look at the longer list of deserters and his smile turned into a scowl.
“Why are so many of our fine boys fleeing their posts?” he asked General Grant.
“Newspaper editors, scaring them silly,” growled General Grant, taking a swig from his flask. “But there’d be more if we didn’t shoot deserters.”
“Must I shoot a simple-minded soldier boy who deserts, while I not touch a hair of a wiley agitator who induces him to desert?” asked Lincoln.
“No, Mister President,” said General Grant. “I’ll shoot them for you.”

Commando

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A ghost ate my underwear.
That’s right. A ghost ate my underwear.
I cannot imagine my underwear being appetizing to any living or nonliving creature, but I woke up to the sight of a spectral entity eating my underwear.
I was too tired to be scared, so I just came out with it: “Why are you’re eating my underwear?”
“I don’t know,” said the ghost. “Got any more?”
I wanted to ask the ghost what the Afterlife was like, but he finished the last of my boxers and vanished.
So, can you exorcise my underwear drawer for me, Father O’Malley?