Category: My stories

Rat Killer

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Each operative was named for a letter of the alphabet. As one died, each agent shifted a letter and a new agent took the name of A.
Nobody retired.
Headquarters sent out a Rat Alert. “D has turned. Kill.”
Z took the assignment. The Z always killed Rats.
A week later in Nairobi, Z pulled the trigger.
Perfect shot.
“Rat killed,” reported Z.
“That was F,” said Headquarters. “Don’t you remember the promotions last month?”
Z looked over the body. “Oops.”
Y hunted him down in Finland.
“Why?” said Z, dying.
“Not Y,” said Y. “My name is Z now.”

No Exit

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Toby spent all afternoon eating popcorn, peanuts, and cotton candy at the county fair.
Watching the clowns tumble and joke under the big top, the midway feast now wanted out.
As she ran for the exit, a spotlight shone on her and the ringmaster grabbed her hand.
“Let me go,” she said.
“Ever rode a horse?” he said, grinning. “I’m hung like one.”
The crowd roared, the world spun, and Toby heaved up everything she’d ever eaten.
She woke up in a pile of hay, covered with clown makeup.
The ringmaster turned out to be hung more like a shrimp.

Liver

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Despite the best efforts of the best doctors in the world, Jenny needed a new liver. I’d give her mine, but it wasn’t enough of a match.
For a million dollars, Rico said he could get one that would be a perfect match.
I sold everything and gave the money to Rico.
It was barely enough.
Within hours, a medical cooler was being rushed to the hospital. In it was Jenny’s new liver.
The hospital paged the transplant team, and they all rushed in.
Except for the lead surgeon. He’d already arrived in the morgue hours ago.
Without a liver.

Piperkitty

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Piper has a long, pretty tail.
When she gets mad, she growls and swats at it. I suppose this is better than her swatting and attacking the other cats. Or me.
If she’s about to pounce on something, she wiggles it before she leaps.
She sticks it in her mouth and walks in circles when she wants attention.
She’ll do this on top of the fence every so often, even if it is raining.
As I type this story, Piper is sitting on the back of my chair, gently tickling my ear with her tail.
Tails are very useful things.

Mutiny

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Palmer killed the captain, knocked out gravity, fried the radio, and nearly blew the drive core before we stopped him.
The crew wanted him dead, but I insisted on a trial. Procedure is procedure.
It didn’t take long, though. Guilty of murder and mutiny.
Minor problem: the lawbooks were seriously out of date.
Punishment was still death by drop-hanging.
“Can we yank on his legs to choke him?” asked Victor.
“Nope,” I said. “No weights. Free drop.”
Palmer laughed at us. “String me up and leave me there for a day,” he said. “That’s the law.”
So we did.
Outside.

Dammit

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Old wives tales say The Moon is made from green cheese. Apollo missions proved otherwise: rocks and dust.
But it turns out that there’s really one moon out there made from green cheese. We were out by Saturn,farming ions in the ring bands, when we lost control and crash landed on it.
Got my picture taken with my thermal underwear on a post, claiming it in the name of Queen Elizabeth.
Astronomer’s Guild gave it a serial number. I wanted to name it Dammit. Because that what we said when we crashed.
Among other things. But Dammit’s fine by me.

Liquid sin in a St. Arnold’s glass

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Just keep pulling Guinness for me, and if you’re busy Christine, I’m not worried. The longer it takes you, the warmer the beer. And the warmer the beer, the better it is.
Nobody loses, everybody wins. I’m okay with it.
Running out of cold pint glasses? Not worried about that none, either. Same reason. Wouldn’t be right to think otherwise.
World would be a better place if all the little stuff stayed little.
I used to get riled up about that stuff. Forgot I was in Texas.
Everything’s big here. Little stuff is that much more little by comparison.
Amen.

The Wacky Adventures Of Abraham Lincoln 46

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Grant nearly choked on his flask. “What do you mean he wants to know what brand of whiskey I drink?”
“I’m not sure,” said his secretary. “Someone in the press called you a drunk, and Lincoln asked what brand you drink so he can give it to his other generals.”
“So they’ll run out of it?” asked Grant.
“No,” said the secretary. “He’s saying he doesn’t care if you’re a hopeless drunk.”
“Well, it’s about time,” said Grant. “Coming to bed?”
The secretary nodded, and wondered if Lincoln would order his other generals to engage in violent bestial sex, too.

For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow, The Doctors Say

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Everybody raised their glasses in a toast to me.
“Happy birthday, Willard,” they said.
“No hard feelings about the funny farm thing?” asked Albert.
“None at all,” I said, smiling.
They drank, and the cake was brought out.
By the time the song was over, I learned over the cake and said “I wish you’d all just die.”
Sure enough, as I was blowing out the candles, each guest was either dead or holding their throats, dying.
“How?” choked Albert, the last one alive.
“Poisoned wine,” I said. “It’s a very good year. No hard feelings, Al?”
He didn’t answer.

Legwork

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Patrolman X4T8 couldn’t be retrofitted to deskbot duty while his new leg was backordered, so they stuck him in a window to watch the alleyway.
“What if I see something?” asked X4T8.
“Call for backup,” snickered Dispatch.
After a week of watching trash blow from one end of the alley to the other, X4T8 decided to take action.
“U3P9,” wired X4T8. “Armed suspect spotted.”
“Confirmed.”
“E6G2,” wired X4T8. “Armed suspect spotted.”
“Confirmed.”
X4T8 watched the Patrolmen enter at either side of the alleyway, draw, and fire.
Both went down with fried mindcores.
Rebuilt, X4T8 went on patrol the next day.