Category: My stories

Of all the antiquated terms people use, I find “hanging up” the phone to be the most amusing.
We used to hang the receiver on the phone to terminate the connection.
Now, it’s a button on a cell phone.
Although pushing a button to cut off a call, depending on the type of phone, that’s been around a while.
Picking up a phone to take a call isn’t always necessary.
When we have headsets and speakerphones and car phones, we don’t actually pick up the phone.
And illegal, when you’re driving.
But I guess hanging up is my biggest hangup.

I’ve been going to Ryan’s Bar for years, and it’s a tradition that the oldest guy drinking at the bar gets the television remote.
Whatever he chooses, everybody watches.
If you want to watch something else, buy him a drink.
Maybe he’ll change his mind.
The better the drink, the better your chances.
And the bigger the drink, the faster he’ll get drunk and pass out.
Leaving the remote to the next oldest guy.
One old fart kept wanting to watch cartoons.
Ryan took the remote’s batteries out.
“You get the remote,” said Ryan. “But you’re not ruining my bar.”

You never know which home run is the last home run you hit.
Or give up as a pitcher.
The last touchdown you catch. Or throw. Or run.
Or get called back because of your holding penalty.
Maybe it’s your call from the booth. Television. Radio.
The last dunk. The last free through.
The last foul, when you foul out of the game.
All your days on the field, the court are long gone.
Trade in your cleats for a suit.
The last time you get recognized on the street.
“Hey, didn’t you used to be…”
And sign an autograph.

Teddy Baskets leads the league in scoring.
Triple Double Teddy.
But he also leads the league in shots. And shots missed.
And fouls and turnovers and minutes.
If you average things out, you’ll see why Teddy’s team is in last.
Nobody else gets any shots because Teddy’s a ball hog.
He fights his own team for every rebound.
And hates coming out of the game, even if he’s on a cold streak or exhausted.
Laying in the jacuzzi after the game, bitching to his agent on his cell phone.
The team’s trainer casually knocks a plugged-in lamp into the tub.

It was fourth grade recess league softball, and I managed to avoid my name sticking to any roster.
The teachers didn’t know what to do, so they asked if I’d be an umpire.
“No,” I said.
But they made me do it anyway.
“Strike!” I shouted after every pitch, even ones that hit the plate.
The principal, who was pitching, had me move next to him.
“Strike!” I continued to shout.
A gang of other kids joined the chorus.
“Strike! Strike! Strike!” they shouted mockingly.
“Oh, good,” I said. “You can take over then.”
And I walked home from school.

Johnny started a TikTok account and posted all kinds of things, but he wasn’t getting any views.
So, he started posting videos of fires.
Burning cars. Burning buildings. Burning parks.
This got him a lot of views.
But the other people posting videos of those fires also got lots of views.
And some of them got more views than Johnny.
So, he burned down their houses.
Eventually, Johnny got caught.
As he sat in his cell, he smelled smoke. A fire alarm went off.
Johnny yelled for a guard… to bring him his phone so he could post a video.

So, you want to stop school shootings?
Metal detectors haven’t worked.
Guards haven’t worked.
Safe zones haven’t worked.
Lots of people are talking about taking away guns again.
As if you could take away the guns.
And even if you stop selling the big guns, there’s still the guns out there.
Background checks? Doesn’t work for stolen COVID funds, won’t work for guns.
Stop smuggling? Every border has a price.
So, I came up with another plan.
Homeschooled kids don’t bully their classmates.
Homeschooled kids don’t shoot their classmates.
Take away schools.
And you take away the classmates to kill.

It’s almost jasmine season again.
The jasmine vines took a beating last year because of the freeze.
I thought about chopping them down, but let’s see how they do this year.
If there’s no bloom at all on the ground, yeah, I’ll cut them off and plant anew.
Thing is, if we head out in a year or two, I won’t see any of it.
They’ll grow for the next tenant.
But life is about planting for the next generation to enjoy, right?
As long as they don’t chop them down and plant a bunch of daisies or other crap.

He stood there, a dark and shabby man, rotten teeth and wild hair.
Clothed in dirty rags, surrounded by dozens of shabby commoners.
Roman soldiers watched them all.
“That’s Jesus?” I said. “For real?”
“Kinda puts things in perspective, eh?” said Dr. Marks, holding his camera steady.
We were posing as merchants, and tracked the group for a few days.
And when it was over, we went back to our boat, threw the time circuits, and appeared back in the Institute.
We both took a big breath of fresh air.
“Man, I need a shower,” Dr. Marks said, and laughed.

Baby woke up cold, bound up and tied to a tree.
She looked around as best she could.
There were trees all around her, and all she heard were crickets.
She tried to scream, but there was a gag over her mouth.
The last thing she remembered was leaving Archie’s place and going home.
And her husband… he came back a day early.
“What do you think it will be?” a voice whispered in her ear. “Starve, dehydrate, or freeze?”
It wasn’t any of those.
It was a shovel to her skull.
And he used it to bury her deep.