Category: My stories

I don’t think the Chinese went far enough when they engineered and released COVID-19.
I’m hoping that they find a way to perfect it, and target COVID-20 at stupid, greedy, and annoying people.
Pundits on the television commentaries, the columnists at the newspapers… all falling down dead.
The guy that makes a left turn from the right lane suddenly slumping on to his steering wheel and coasting to a stop.
Telemarketers, people who let their barking dogs out at 3AM and don’t pick up after them.
And especially people who ask me “Does it have to be 100 words long?”

i used to wonder about obituaries that appear days or months after the person had died.
When my sick evil father died, I wondered what pack of lies and bullshit would appear in his obituary.
So, after a few weeks, I searched for it.
And didn’t find anything.
Well, I wasn’t about to write one.
And my brother wasn’t either.
His widow? A dementia-ridden crone only capable of digesting expensive food and shitting everywhere.
Whether prompt or delayed, they all still say “survived by” in them.
When the actual survivors of evil scumbags like him never write them at all.

Word got out that Cindy died.
The notice said that she was surrounded by family.
Some people envision a hospital bed, where everyone’s standing around and telling her that they love her.
A beautiful scene, no.
While I envision a cage in the basement, where all her family members have spears to poke through the bars.
“OUT, DEMON!” they all shout. “Let our Cindy go!”
And stab Cindy repeatedly until she succumbs to her wounds.
Anastasia, the Russian Princess, she died surrounded by her loving family, too.
As they were all poisoned and shot to death in the palace basement.

Morganna Roberts was known as The Kissing Bandit.
The huge-breasted ex-stripper would run on to the field to kiss the players.
Or coaches. Or mascots, like the San Diego Chicken.
She’d sometimes get injured. Or the security guards took her away.
And she was charged with trespassing or some other charge that would eventually get dropped.
Or she’d pay the fine out the money she made from public appearances and her line of cosmetics and souvenirs.
She made millions.
And then, there’s Justin Verlander.
One game in two years, then injured. Sixty-five million dollars.
Tell me, who’s the bigger slut?

I recently quit my job.
But I quit my job on the first of the month, so I’ve got insurance until month’s end.
My prescriptions are running out, so I ordered refills last night, and this morning, the drugstore said they were ready.
And they were ready.
No insurance issues.
No doctor’s authorization issues.
No problems with supply at the drugstore.
No line full of people yelling about insurance, doctors, and supply.
I walked in, I said my name, and paid with my Apple Watch.
It’s the first time that everything went right.
I should quit my job more often.

When I was an IT Manager, I didn’t do much managing.
I was the only IT person for most of that job, and had half a headcount to cover for me when I was out sick or on vacation.
I wrote up documentation that nobody read, offered training that they never learned from.
And every call was an emergency when it wasn’t.
When I’d help the person, I’d make sure they used the keyboard and mouse because they needed to do the thing.
Plus, if you stand behind someone and point at the screen, you can look down their blouse.

It was the first night of Hanukkah, and Ted only had a few candles.
He cut them into smaller pieces, and he did his best to make them last all 8 nights.
“God made the oil last for 8 days,” said Ted. “So I figure he’ll make these candles last, too.”
But God didn’t. The candles were all used up after 3 days.
Ted went outside and wondered why God didn’t make them last.
A bush in the front yard caught fire.
“Because you used candles instead of oil, dummy,” said God.
Ted used snow to put out the fire.

The Pirates of the Caribbean ride has been updated and upgraded over the years.
The figures and songs adjusted to modern sensibilities.
Instead of a pirate chasing a woman around, it’s an angry woman with a broom chasing a pirate.
Women robots harassed throughout the town, replaced with animals or other nasty pirates.
And instead of women being auctioned, it’s now a lady pirate auctioning off chickens.
What happened to the old robots?
Too old for reuse, some were thrown out.
Then recovered from dumpsters, and auctioned off on eBay.
Just things for sale on the auction block, once again.

Agencies want to know three things:
Are you willing to kill?
Are you able to kill?
And can you do it without leaving a trace back to you or them?
Marco’s Imports likes to test new talent by assigning someone they’d personally want dead.
An uncle who’d molested them as a child. A detested cousin.
To them, it’s all about family.
The Diamond Exchange sends their candidates after the homeless, the drug addicts.
People nobody would miss.
My outfit, Consulting Limited, prefers the last man standing method.
The real talent shines through, and no awkward rejection notices necessary.
Sign here.

I cannot describe the ship.
Its surface absorbs all light.
Its shape, indeterminate.
One moment, I was standing outside if it, I put my hand out…
And the next, I was inside of it, looking out through a clear surface that surrounded me.
I was standing, but on nothing.
No lights, but I could see all around me.
And breathe.
I felt myself melting, becoming one with the ship.
Knowing everything it knew.
Let’s go somewhere, I thought.
Suddenly, I was out in the stars.
So much darkness, so much light, so much color.
I saw everything.
And we flew.