Category: My stories

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?

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.