Category: My stories

Sippycup

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“The optimist believes that the glass is half full,” said the teacher. “And the pessimist believes that the glass is half empty?”
FrankJ banged his sippy-cup on his tray. “Frank want more juice!” he cried.
The teacher stared at the student with disgust. “What are you? Three?”
“Actually, I’m in twenty-nine,” said Frank. “And I just wrote a book, too. Now, where’s my juice?”
“Can’t you get your own juice?” asked the teacher.
“That’s usually what Sarah does,” said Frank. “But she’s mad at me. Juice!”
The teacher sighed and poured more juice, pondering a new job soon.

Warp Factor Zero

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Bones rattled around the Infirmary until Jim came down and opened the door.
“Have you figured out what the problem is?” said Jim, looking down at Spock, who was laying on an examination table.
“It’s his damn green Vulcan blood,” growled Bones. “I don’t know whether he’s got a nosebleed or a runny nose.”
“It’s just a runny nose,” said Spock matter-of-factly.
“Then why were you shrieking for a tissue and pinching your nose?” said Bones.
“It’s… the… Vulcan Nose Grip,” said Spock. “Simple logic.”
Jim laughed, and Bones punched him in the nose.
“Now that’s a nosebleed,” said Bones.

The Meaty Brigands

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When the ship’s crew sang “You ho ho, and a bottle of A1 Steak Sauce!” I began to worry.
I thought I was signing on to a crew that would search for gold and treasure, but all we’ve done is search the Spanish Main for steaks, burger patties, and all-beef sausages.
“What kind of pirates are we, anyway?” I asked Captain Greasybeard.
“Yarrrrr, we be meat pirates!” he chortled, and the entire crew raised a mighty cheer.
I looked around, shrugged, and cheered along.
It’s been a good life on the ship, but walking the grill hurts like a motherfucker.

Spork Girl

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Jenny got rejection notices from Teen Titans.
“Rejection is a part of life,” said her mother, comforting Jenny. “Come on, show me again what you can do.”
Jenny put a fork in one hand, a spoon in the other, and then put her hands behind her back.
“Abracadabra,” she said.
When she brought her hands back in front of her, she revealed the spork.
“Do you have to do that with the nice silverware, Jenny?” asked her mother. “Can’t you just do that with the plastic picnic spoons and forks?”
Jenny cried and ran to her room, slamming the door.

The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln 71

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Every now and then Abraham Lincoln did the grocery shopping.
It was an act of self-preservation, since Mary Todd had a habit of picking up asparagus and pig knuckles.
Abe wanted chicken for dinner, so he bought a dozen eggs and brought them back home to the White House.
“You want eggs?” asked Mary Todd. “Scrambled? Boiled?”
“No, I want chicken,” said Abraham.
“They won’t be ready for months,” said Mary Todd. “We’re having scrambled eggs.”
“We shall sooner have the fowl by hatching the egg than by smashing it,” said Lincoln.
Mary Todd smashed the eggs in Abe’s face.

The Angel

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My wife didn’t go to Florida this year for Christmas, so she put up a Yule tree.
It was a fake tree, prewired with lights and pinecones. And even though it wasn’t going to shed needles, we still got a tree skirt for it.
We kept the decorations simple. And we didn’t put an angel on top.
No, that was for Piperkitty’s photo. She watched us put the tree up, but didn’t live to see us take it down.
As we take down the ornaments, I find her last tinkly collar.
I don’t remember putting it up there.
Do you?

1701

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New Year’s at the Blue Line.
Well, for the goyim. Rosh Hoshana wouldn’t be for another nine months.
Across the border, yellow and green flags wave from watchtowers while masked men carry crates of ammunition into homes.
Watching them, soldiers with unloaded rifles and blue helmets sipped coffee and called home on cell phones.
“Wasn’t 1701 supposed to solve all this shit?” asked Lieutenant Tzivni.
In the distance, a muffled explosion echoed in the hills.
“Mine?” asked Tzivni.
“Cluster bomb,” said Goldman.
“Think we’ll get our boys back?” asked Tzivni.
Goldman watched the Bluehelmets nap, and he shook his head.

Israelisms

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As Charley and Carol sit down to record another podcast, another couple sits down in Gaza, puts their headphones on, and they begin to record.
After dispensing with the weather in q’ranic verse, Abdul and Fatima argue over the news of the day.
Well, Abdul talks and Fatima agrees, fearful of the sting of Abdul’s hand.
Oh, and their daughter Yasserina has joined the resistance! Allahu Ackbhar!
Then Fatima thanks everyone (including Mahmoud from Dearborn), wrap things up, and it’s time to upload.
What? The server isn’t connecting?
They forgot to pay their bill, but they still blame the Zionists.

Pink Slip

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Betsy stared at the severance check and wept.
“Is this all I’m worth to you now?” she asked her boss.
“Come on Betsy,” said her boss. “You knew this was coming ever since they invented email.”
“But it was such a good gig,” said Betsy.
“Was… was a good gig,” the boss emphasized. “Nobody wants singing telegrams anymore.”
“I still get fan letters,” she said.
“But not new orders,” said her boss. “I’m sorry, but it’s either let you go or shut things down.”
He let Betsy keep her feather boa, the same one she’d been using for 60 years.

Payback’s a Colossal Bitch

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Lady Liberty wanted to weep as she watched the towers burn.
Later that night, she pried loose the Emma Lazarus poem at her feet and read it for the first time.
Disgusted, she tossed it into the harbor.
“Go somewhere else, huddled masses,” she grumbled. “Pollute someone else’s shore.”
After careful thought, she decided to keep the torch and book.
The torch came in handy for seeing threats at night.
The book was great for whomping them.
After a few assaults on passing ships, the government shut the island down for “Security reasons.”
Eventually, she slept, and the tourists returned.