Category: My stories

Shamrock

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Just as Valentine’s Day has become one gigantic commercial for flower merchants, candy makers, and greeting card printers, I fear that St. Patrick’s Day has become nothing more than a Guinness commercial.
Whatever happened to St. Patrick’s miracle of driving all of the snakes off of the island of Ireland?
To commemorate the true miracle of St. Patrick, we’ve farm-raised several thousand snakes and we will release them in Ireland on March 16th. Then the next day, the Irish can drive these snakes out.
Maybe when we get a corporate sponsor, we can afford to stockpile a supply of antivenin.

Jury of my peers

439703

Technically, it doesn’t violate the Fifth Amendment, since it’s not really me up there on the stand. It’s only the holographic projection of a self-aware virtual copy.
It’s nothing more than a recording, the courts decided a year ago, so careless fools like me end up facing our shimmering dopplegangers when we get caught.
All I did was run a red light, and I’m getting a fine and points off my license.
The self-aware copy up there, on the other hand, gets a sentence of death.
Serves the damn traitor right for not sticking up for me… I mean himself.

They changed the stars

488309

Josie watched in horror as the stars moved around in the night sky.
They swirled and whirled around for a few seconds before spreading back out again.
Up there, for all to see, was a message:
“DEAR FRED,
YOU SUCK.
SIGNED,
MISSY.”
The stars stayed like that for a minute, then they swirled and whirled around again until they returned to their original positions in the heavens.
Josie’s phone rang. She almost missed the call.
“Did you see that?” asked Sheldon.
“Yes,” said Josie. “I wonder if Fred saw it.”
“Who’s Fred?” asked Sheldon.
“I dunno,” said Josie. “Ask Missy.”

Web Of Lies

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Remember Charlotte from Charlotte’s Web and how she loved that pig so much, writing things in the web to keep the farmer from killing him.
What if she hated the pig? Really hated the pig?
I think she’d have written things in her web like UGLY and STUPID and DIE DIE DIE instead of the nice things she wrote.
But then, now that I think of it, she might have also written TASTY and DELICIOUS and even a recipe for pork chops.
As I look at this spider in my hand, I stop and wonder.
And I let it go.

Jonah

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Looking back, I guess it’s a bit disappointing that man never invented a faster than light star drive.
The Jonah, on the other hand, was just sitting there on Io, waiting for God knows how long.
It took a few years, but we eventually figured out how to use it. Even managed to make functional copies of it.
But we still haven’t figured out how it works or why it works. We just make it work.
That’s good enough for me, I think as I step into the space-whale’s mouth.
Take me to the Heavens. I’m late for a meeting.

Let my people go

501679

Moses felt his heart lurch as he watched Pharaoh carry his lifeless son to Anubis’ statue.
“Will you let my people go now?” asked Moses.
“No,” said Pharaoh.
“No?” asked Moses. “But…your son…”
“He was my eldest, sure,” said Pharaoh. “But I have dozens more, just as ready to take my throne. Insurance against assassination, or enemy gods.”
Moses’ heart sank, and he returned to his people.
“Did it work?” asked Herschel.
“No,” said Moses.
The community agreed. “We need more plagues,” said Herschel.
It took sixteen more to convince Pharaoh.
They edited those out of The Bible, of course.

Nanny

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Just as Nanny raised me, she raised you. And just as she raised you, she will raise your daughter.
Nanny has raised the children in our family for five centuries now.
Why would you refuse Nanny’s services? After all, part of her regimen is to instill the simple truth that Nanny must raise all generations of our family.
It has always been that way. It always will.
Why you would rebel against this simple thing can mean only one thing: you are not actually my daughter.
Tell me what you did with her, and I promise you won’t suffer much.

New Australia

499304

Prisons Ministry looked at Gate Technology and dreamt of a New Australia.
“The parallel universe is habitable,” said the Warden-General. “Just like Prehistoric Earth. Better there than wrecking civilization here.”
The test prisoners went through without problem, surviving the trip and living out their lives peacefully across the Gate.
Approval was given, and prisoners were shipped off by the hundreds.
Eventually the world treated the Gate as their social garbage disposal. Murders. Rapists. Thieves. Tax cheats. Jaywalkers.
Until one day, research determined that they actually were going into Prehistoric Earth.
And they were hunting Homo habilis for sport.
Civilization vanished.

My dad is a ninja

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It was Career Day at school, and every child in Miss Claire’s class brought their father in to show off.
Susie’s father was a fireman.
Abdul’s father was a lawyer.
Johnny’s father was a baseball player.
Bobby’s father was… absent?
“Where is your father, Bobby?” asked Miss Claire.
“He’s lurking in the shadows,” said Bobby.
“Why?”
“Because he’s a ninja.”
“He’s not a ninja.”
As fast as lightning, a fist plunged through Miss Claire’s chest, ripped out her heart, and showed it to her before she died.
“See?” said Bobby.
Oh, did I mention that Susie’s father was a fireman?

Salacis

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Prince Salacis was wise, beloved to the people, but loathed by his own advisers.
Fearful of his unchecked power, they stabbed him in the throat with a dagger.
But Salacis survived. Much to the advisors’ regret, I must say. They were all hung and left to rot.
The royal surgeons could not remove the dagger from his neck, so they wrapped it with gold foil and encrusted it with jewels.
For forty more years, Salacis presided over the land, commanding all with a raspy voice. Brilliantly, too.
When he needed advice, he consulted the rotted-away corpses, swaying in the breeze.