Category: My stories

Me And My HALO

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Before, there were gangs and shootings. You wouldn’t last a block without getting roughed up.
But now, it’s quiet and peaceful. Lot of folks out walking, saying hello to each other.
And smiling. That’s one thing I missed before the old days – I missed all the smiling.
Everybody’s an angel with a HALO over their heads.
In addition to suppressing violent tendencies, they’re great as portable light sources.
I’m walking to the corner store for a gallon of milk. Maybe some gum.
Have you fixed my HALO? I’d hate for it to glitch.
Those Sentries can be rough on Heathens.

Testing Sam

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Mommy took Sam to Sears for new mittens, but he saw video games and ran over to play with them.
Usually, Mommy came after him and scolded him not to run away.
Not this time.
The game was boring, so Sam went back to where he ran away from Mommy.
She… wasn’t there.
Sam tugged on a clerk’s sleeve. “I’m lost.”
They announced Sam’s name over the speaker.
An hour went by. Two.
Sam also gave them his address and phone number.
Disconnected. An empty lot.
From inside a coat display, Mommy watched.
And tried not to laugh too loudly.

Crosstown Rivals

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Smithtown and Ft. Rileysburg had a nasty crosstown rivalry.
Football games were bloodbaths.
Bake sales were bloodbaths.
Even the bathhouses were bloodbaths.
So when Smithtown hung a horse thief, Ft. Rileysburg had to go and hang two of them.
Smithtown hung three railroad men who didn’t tip well.
Ft. Rileysburg hung a barbershop quartet just for “dressing dapper.”
The hangings escalated, and pretty soon every lamp post had a corpse swinging from it.
Then… no more hangings.
It was time for a bake sale. Everyone ran to their kitchens.
Word of advice: avoid the Kidney Pie.
You’ll thank me later.

The Wacky Adventures Of Abraham Lincoln 62

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The Presidential Alchemist lifted the curtain and revealed a tiny box of gearworks.
“What does it do?” asked Lincoln.
“It turns slave soil into free soil,” said the Alchemist. “Let me demonstrate.”
He poured dirt into the hopper, turned the crank, and withdrew a dirt-filled drawer.
“See?” said the Alchemist.
Abe looked at the dirt.
Abe felt the dirt.
Abe even smelled the dirt.
“I suppose it is free soil,” said Lincoln. “How soon can you build a full-sized model?”
“It is full size,” said the Alchemist. “And it’s the only one that works.”
Abe sighed, shrugged, and started cranking.

Poking Parker

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Parker screwed up. Nearly got me killed.
“Poke him, Chief” said Vasquez.
Everybody agreed.
So, before my shift, I went to the Suit Room and poked a hole in Parker’s moonsuit.
Relax – the airlock cycles quickly. Long before he blows out. One tiny hole will just whistle a bit at Zero A.
I laughed as he cycled… and he blew out fast.
Blowout? I must have poked the moonsuit too deep.
Crap.
As Crew Chief, Parker died on my watch, so it was on me.
I confessed about poking Parker.
Vasquez also confessed. And Petersen. And Goldberg. And Sanders. And…

Noble Savage, Lend Me Your Grandmothers

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Otto knelt among the trees, looking at Mother Nature’s beauty and growling with rage.
In two years, this would be a massive subdivision.
Worst of all, Jim had beaten him out on developing it.
The sound of Whitefeather’s pickup truck arriving jarred Otto out of his rage.
“Got the bones?” asked Otto.
Whitefeather pulled out a burlap sack and tossed it on the ground.
“Excellent,” said Otto. “When they dig these up, they’ll have to stop. Now all we need to do is bury them.”
“We?” Whitefeather tossed a shovel to Otto. “Good luck, Paleface,” he said and drove off.

Make Money Fast!

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Babatunde spotted his orphan friend Zaytan sitting in the Lagos sidewalk cafe and decided to join him.
“May your penis be longer, thicker!” smiled Babatunde.
“You do not know me, but pray for me,” replied Zaytan.
They sipped their 100% Percent Guaranteed Herbal Remedies a while, watching the jeeps of oil executives and politicians with large amounts of cash in overseas accounts pass on the street and crash in horrific wrecks.
Babatunde finished his remedy, shook Zaytan’s hand, and made to leave.
“Why you no email me no more?” asked Zaytan.
“I does,” said Babatunde.
“Accursed Spam filters!” growled Zaytan.

A Love For Spuds

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Arthur finished his third bowl of mashed potatoes and let loose a fond sigh.
“I love mashed potatoes,” he said. “I love them oh so much.”
Emily had heard this once too many times that evening. “So why don’t you marry them?”
The ink and gravy stains weren’t dry on the divorce papers before Arthur headed to Vegas to marry his beloved mashed potatoes.
The preacher, just finished marrying a pair of Star Wars-loving store clerks, muttered “She’s quite a… side dish?”
The preacher took his money, performed the ceremony, and let the Health Department and courts fight it out.

In Russia, The Hundred Breaks You!

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Night. Fog. Cold.
Where am I?
Wherever it is, I’m not in the best part of it.
Hungry, confused. Cell phone’s dead.
Ugly, dirty faces pass by. Almost feral.
Markings in… some strange language?
Is it language?
I feel in my back pocket, take out my wallet.
It is overflowing with one hundred dollar bills.
Hungry.
No restaurants around. Just shabby vending machines.
“Where can I get food?”
They grunt in… what language is that?
I walk up to a machine. I…
It only takes coins.
“Can you break-”
I stop. I see the knife.
This is when you run.

Special delivery

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Lots of nines on the odometer, each one showing up quicker than the last.
Wheel in one hand and phone in the other, Bill was ready to snap a photo of the big rollover.
“Million Mile Club gets you a bonus,” said the boss. “Gets you moved to a better shift, too.”
Bill had covered a day shift for Hector once. It was much more interesting than weekends.
As the zeroes started to appear, Bill pushed the button.
Nothing. No flash.
Did it work?
While Bill fiddled with the camera, his van slid off of the bridge into the river.