It’s every orphan’s dream to be told that they’re really a princess to be whisked away to the family’s castle in a horse-drawn carriage.
Leslie’s heart was pounding as they made their way along the forest road.
Then, they pulled to the side of the road and stopped.
At first, she was worried that she was going to be told it was all a big mistake, but a rattletrap carriage was coming the other way.
A girl’s voice within, screaming threats and obscenities.
Then, she realized, it’s also every princess’ nightmare to be told they’re an impostor, and sent away.
Category: AvaHeart
Perfect
Ted had never bowled a perfect game before.
However, after eleven strikes in a row, he was one away from scoring 300 for the first time in his life.
He finished his beer, wiped his hands on his shirt, and picked up the ball.
One more, he whispered to it. You’ve got one more in you.
He set his grip one more time, looked down the lane, and…
That’s when his heart gave out.
Ted collapsed, the ball came loose from his grasp, and it rolled through the pins.
Strike.
The ball had one more in it, but not Ted.
The Valve
Ernest has had heart trouble for years.
The doctor says it’s something congenital, but eating pork and bacon as often as Ernest does doesn’t help matters much.
So, he’s getting a heart valve replacement.
“One of them mechanicals?” asks Ernest.
“Actually, you’re a good candidate for a transplant from a pig’s heart,” said the doctor.
Ernest thinks for a bit. “Good, but one thing, doc?”
“What’s that?” asks the doctor.
“For as much as I’m paying, I should get the rest of the pig,” he says.
Three weeks later, he roasted it on a spit to celebrate leaving the hospital.
Roses Aren’t Red
I write greeting cards for a living.
Valentine’s Day is a way’s off, but it takes months to come up with new cards and get them printed in time.
Plus, stores are putting cards out earlier and earlier every year.
After sitting at my desk for a week, the best I could come up with was a heart in greyscale.
Inside the card:
Roses aren’t red.
And violets aren’t blue.
I’m colorblind, jerk.
If it gets rejected, I’ll just sell it to an online freebie greeting card company.
Sure, it’s cutting my own throat, but my art must be appreciated.
Heartstrings
Sonya was good, her family said, but she wanted to be the absolute best.
“For the best music,” said The Devil, “you must string your violin with heartstrings. They resonate with unmatched beauty.”
So, at her concerts, playing her best, she captured heart after beating heart, luring the men to her home to harvest the strings she needed.
Still, she didn’t sound like the best of all.
The Devil laughed. “They have to be from people you love the most.”
Her mother.
Her father.
Her sister.
Herself.
The Devil laughed at the carnage, rosined Sonya’s bow, and played.
Magnificent!
Breaking hearts
She has a reputation for breaking hearts.
Which is why she got pulled off of the artificial heart assembly line and put in the product testing group.
“If you’re going to break these things, we’d rather you do it in a way that helps save lives, not kill people,” said the factory managers.
The curious thing is, when she breaks a heart, analysts look over the heart and can’t find the reason why it failed.
“She had such promise,” says a factory manager. “So much potential. It’s too painful to watch her fail like this.”
And another heart is broken.
The Siege of Oz
Before the Wizard floated off and Dorothy vanished, the Scarecrow, Tinman, and Lion swore to rule Oz with intelligence, compassion, and bravery.
Instead, they spent their time bickering and fighting.
The Lion became foolhearty. Barroom brawls ruined his once-magnificent pelt, making him that much more sullen and angry, drinking more, fighting more.
The Tinman was overly compassionate, giving away everything in the Treasury.
The Scarecrow, stuck with the balance sheets, yelled “Damn you both!”
The leaderless Winged Monkeys and Witch Castle Guards received news of this chaos.
They marched on Emerald City, ready to overthrow the misguided and incompetent triumvirate.
A gift for Valentine’s
When we were married, I swore I’d give you my heart forever.
For health, and sickness.
The doctor said that you needed a new heart, but a bad risk for transplant surgery.
You were way down the transplant list. No point in keeping the battery in the pager fresh.
I went to bed, telling myself that this would be the last sleep I’d ever sleep.
The next morning, I woke up with every intention to kill myself and let the doctors give you my heart.
But you were cold. Still. Not breathing.
You died in your sleep.
Oh, never mind.
Cupid’s Arrows
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That’s not a tattoo on my shoulder.
It’s a scar.
Damn Cupid got his arrows mixed up with hunting arrows.
I saw my true love, worked up my courage, and took an arrow in the chest.
He missed my heart, thankfully.
Unlike my true love. She was dead within a second.
But then, we both were hit with hunting arrows, not with Cupid’s.
Were we hit by Cupid’s arrows, I’d believe it.
Maybe it was just the heat of the moment.
Cupid apologized at the funeral, offered to hit us again with the right arrows.
“What’s the point?” I said.
Heartless
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The kidnappers sent Julius one of Edna’s toes, but he still had trouble rounding up the ransom.
Time was running out for Edna. The deadline was Valentine’s Day, and they”d threatened to cut out her heart.
I won’t bore you with the details, but things went sour.
What arrived at Julius’ doorstep on February 15th, wrapped in paper, was her stomach.
The kidnappers didn”t know much about anatomy.
“This means she”s still alive, right?” begged Julius.
The FBI agent looked at his partner.
They started to pack up their equipment and notified the office that it was homicide’s problem now.