Category: My stories

Hopping Mad

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After a year in the hospice, columnist Art Buchwald died and his spirit went to Heaven.
However, when he arrived, he still only had one leg.
“Where is my other leg?” asked Art.
“We’re not sure,” said Saint Peter. “We’ve checked the warehouses, but there’s a huge backlog in inventory. Plus, there’s a problem with routing issues these days.”
After a brief discussion, they gave Art a set of canes and told him to come back in six months.
Sure, Art had a set of wings like everyone else, but landings can be a real bitch with just one leg.

Brassy

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I sat down on my welcome mat and stared at the bizarre doorknob on my front door.
The old brass fixture had been replaced with the talking animated doorknob from Alice In Wonderland.
And it didn’t want to open.
I waved a key in front of its eyes.
“This is the key to my house,” I said. “Now open the door.”
“That key’s dirty!” said the doorknob. “Clean it first!”
“I’ve got nothing to clean it with,” I said. “Open wide.”
“I’ll bite your fingers off!” it threatened, snapping its teeth.
I really need to cut back on the acid.

The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln 74

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It was Bath Day, and the White House tub was full of warm sudsy water.
The problem was that Abraham Lincoln would be so busy doing his Presidential duties that he’d end up being the last to the tub.
The water was often quite foul by then, and sometimes a family member would accidentally break the tub.
So Abe finished his work, closed up his desk, and came upon a frightful scene.
“The bottom is out of the tub!” shouted Abe. “What shall I do?”
There was no answer.
So he stripped naked, went outside, and took a dust bath.

Phantom Pain

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As a kid, I compulsively bit my fingernails.
I chewed them ragged and bloody.
Nothing could get me to stop.
After years of suffering, I finally went to a hypnotist.
He convinced me that they weren’t there to bite.
It worked.
On the way home, I was walking through Sears when I noticed the Craftsman display.
I mounted a blade into a circular saw and plugged it in.
The first finger was the hardest to cut off.
The rest were much, much easier.
They call it phantom pain. I still feel them there.
But I don’t want to bite them.

The Big Hand Is On The Ten, The Little Hand Is On The Twelve, And The Slowhand Is On The Slab

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I clawed my way out of the yellow time-bubble and ran for the backstage.
“Stevie!” I yelled. “Don’t get on that goddamned chopper!”
His bodyguards put up a fight, but Stevie got curious and wanted to take a took at me.
Then he punched my lights out, because Clapton had gotten his seat.
I had meant to save them both, but I guess I blew it.
When the “local” Time Society bailed me out, I was given a warning.
And a commendation.
“At least there’s no more ‘No More Tears In Heaven,'” it said. “That song was damned annoying.”

Yankee Blonde

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Sally wasn’t just stupid, but dead-dumb solid-rock stupid.
She was also a blonde, so her smart friends tried an experiment.
You know the old joke where artificial intelligence is where you dye a blonde’s hair black?
Well, they tried it with Sally.
They made her take off her favorite ballcap, then she washed her hair and dyed it dark.
Sure enough, she wasn’t dumb anymore.
Not quite a genius, but certainly smarter than before.
When her hair was dry enough, she put her trusty New York Yankees cap back on.
And, sure enough, she was the same old moron again.

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?