Category: My stories

Refrigerator magnets

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Lois looked at all of the refrigerators and compared their features, but she couldn’t make up her mind which one of them to buy.
The salesclerk said, “I think I can help you.” He led her to a circular room with refrigerators of every brand and model along the perimeter.
Then, he handed her a refrigerator magnet.
“Close your eyes and spin!” he commanded.
She did so.
“Now… throw!” he shouted.
She threw the magnet.
“Stop and open your eyes,” he said.
She’d thrown the magnet at the door they came in through.
“Just buy the damn Whirlpool,” he sighed.

Christmas Trolls

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The day after Christmas, Santa’s elves partied and celebrated another year’s work finished.
On the other side of the North Pole, Santa’s trolls were dealing with returns, damaged toys, injury claims, technical support, and instruction booklets in the wrong language.
“Fucking elves!” growled the Head Troll. “Those twerps get the credit for shipping crap, but we’re the ones having to clean up after them.”
“Let’s strike,” said a few of the trolls, and they grumbled agreement.
At first sign of revolt, Santa stomped into the Troll Barn with a bullwhip and a bullhorn.
“Back to work, you sonsabitches!” he shouted.

Virgin Mary

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The Three Wise Men took Joseph aside.
“This was a virgin birth?” asked Caspar.
“It sure as hell is,” said Joseph. “That freaky bitch took it up the ass and in the mouth, but never where it counted.”
Balthasar winced. “I’m not sure she’s technically a virgin after that,” he said.
“No, it’s a virgin birth,” said Melchior. “But she’s a dirty slut.”
All three agreed.
They were also tired of screwing their camels, so they asked Joseph if they could gangbang Mary.
“Frankincense? Myrrh? I don’t need that stuff,” he said. “But throw in the Gold, and she’s yours.”

The Wacky Adventures Of Abraham Lincoln 67

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It was the night before Christmas, and Lincoln’s Cabinet was heading off to their various churches for services.
Lincoln sat alone, making paper dolls with scissors and war dispatches.
“Aren’t you going to church?” asked Salmon Chase.
“No,” said Lincoln. “I am not a member of any Christian Church.”
“Which church are you a member of then?” asked Chase.
Lincoln took a long needle from his stovepipe hat, licked it, and stabbed it through a paper doll.
Chase fell to the floor in agony.
“Any more stupid questions?” asked Lincoln.
Chase groaned “Merry Christmas” and crawled out of the room.

Fabio Sucks

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I’m just as stunned as you are. Fabio was a great spokesman for “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.”
I guess his vampiric transformation was just too gruesome.
Such a waste.
And that’s what fooled us all – the hair, the muscles. Who knew he was so brilliant with chemistry?
It didn’t take him long to get labspace at Unilever to develop a cruetly-free food source for himself.
Not only will “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Blood!” eliminate any fear of transfusion-related ailments like AIDS and Hep-C, but it’s damn tasty, too.
Still, every now and then I miss draining someone.

Toadboy

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My mother did a lot of drugs in her wilder days.
She claimed she took a break for the seven months I was inside her, but I know she’s lying.
My genes are full of errors, minuscule errors in the spirals of DNA in my billions of cells.
Doctors say I should be dead by now. But I’m still kicking, and the nurses keep checking on me around-the-clock.
Every now and then, one sneaks a lick of my skin.
Their eyes roll back, and they shudder with pleasure.
That’s nice, but I wish they’d remember to switch the goddamned bedpan.

For Elise

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My sister Elise calls me her guardian angel.
Father, called me a tumor. He left when we were 4.
Mother didn’t say much of anything about the withered midget on her daughter’s back.
Elise and I don’t just share a liver and kidneys – we share absolutely everything. No secrets between us, although she sometimes jokes “What are you plotting behind my back?”
The doctors whisper over headphones that there’s risk, but not as much if they don’t have to worry about me.
“Mother didn’t,” I say. “Why should I?”
I promise she won’t wake up alone. I’m her angel.

The Cute

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Warden Wilson’s motto was “We put the ‘cute’ in electrocution.”
His first order of business was to replace the old wooden electric chair with a comfortable electric couch.
Fresh flowers and rustic decorations adorned Death Row to give it a “homey” feel. Lots of framed needlepoint, and the bars were replaced with delicate wrought iron.
When the guards’ union balked at the duck and the bunny suits, Wilson flew into a berserk rage.
“Fine!” he shouted. “Forget about the flowers and hugs… you can keep your stupid batons and guns!”
Wilson’s bludgeoned and shot body was found the next day.

My Captain

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When it got dark, The Captain and I climbed out of the bunker for a smoke.
My pack was empty. The Captain had just one.
I watched as The Captain lit up.
“We’ll get more soon,” he said, taking a deep drag. “I’ll smoke half, you’ll smoke half, okay?”
The tip glowed red in the night.
Then, more red.
Laser dots.
He dropped before I could shout.
I sat still, watching The Captain’s body in the tiny glow of the cigarette tip.
No more shots. The snipers just saw him, not me.
I haven’t smoked since.
Now pass the needle.

The Wacky Adventures Of Abraham Lincoln 66

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Lincoln walked out from the telegraph office and silenced the curious reporters with a sheepish grin.
“I have no comment at this time,” said Lincoln.
“But… but…”
“Well, gentlemen, there is a little woman at our house who is probably more interested in this dispatch than I am.”
Lincoln strolled back home, where Mary Todd was finished preparing the evening’s meal.
“Did you win the election?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” said Lincoln. “But I think Thumbelina will want to know that they’ve found a Borrower community in Oregon.”
He stuffed the telegram into the hole in the wainscoting.