Tag: history

Arrows

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All of the members of the tribe are expert archers.
Except one.
No matter how much he practices, he misses. Or he breaks the string on his bow.
He falls off of his horse a lot.
Don’t stand behind him when he’s got his tomahawk. His grip’s much too loose.
When asked to scalp an enemy, he merely takes a little bit off of the top and gives an excellent shave.
In fact, he’s got a business on the side. A barber shop in the white man’s settlement.
As for the gambling tables in back, well, that’ll never catch on.

Decade

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Unlike ordinary hourglasses, God’s is filled with cocaine.
It’s much brighter than sand, and significantly more expensive.
Especially when you consider the size of His hourglass, thirty feet tall.
Money means nothing to God. He has more money than Himself, you know.
He likes to sit in the bottom, letting the white pile rise around Him.
He snorts a bit, feels the buzz, and comes up with ideas.
“Let there be light!” He says, and passes out.
“Not again!” whines Gabriel.
The other angels sigh and struggle to turn the hourglass over.
(It’s so much easier than digging Him out.)

The Three Wise Men

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After the Three Wise Men dropped off their gifts for the Baby Jesus, they headed to a brothel for some whoring.
“Did you have to give them all the gold,” said the one who had brought myrrh.
“Do I look stupid?” said the gold-bearer. “I’m a wise man, just like you, but I don’t reek of herbs and funerary resins.”
“Maybe a little,” said the third one.
All three enjoyed a bath together with some of the finest ass Jerusalem had to offer, fucking anything with a price tag on it.
Then they got on their camels and went home.

Dazzleberries and Ookweed

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Grondor admonished his tribe of cave-dwellers: “Lay off the dazzleberries and ookweed.”
He was getting sick and tired of tripping over stoned tribesmen or getting jabbed in the ass with a spear when they’d flip out and hallucinate that he was an elk.
And so, he collected up all the plants he could find, dragged the Firemaker out of his cave, and they set the narcotic bundle aflame.
With a deep sigh of relief, Grondor walked back to the caves.
And saw elk. Dozens of them.
He pulled out his spear and attacked.
His frightened tribe scattered, bleeding and screaming.

Returning Fire

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The humans watched as the vulture tore into Prometheus’ side.
“I didn’t quite catch what you said just there,” groaned Prometheus. “Bird trouble. Could you say that again?”
“We said we’re sorry,” said the leader of the humans. He held out a torch. “If we give this back, will they let you go?”
“Probably not,” said Prometheus. “Just as well you keep it. Might come in handy.”
The leader shook his head. “We’d just feel guilty about it.”
He apologized again, left the torch on the ground. and led his people away… right off of a cliff in the darkness.

Poland

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It’s rare to find a travel agency these days. Websites have all but eliminated the industry.
Maybe it’s just an old habit, but I still go to the travel agent downtown.
I think it’s the desks, the window displays, and posters that draw me.
One in particular. It’s a beautiful valley scene, and below is written: “The Nazis were cruel fuckers and Poland is beautiful.”
Every other travel poster has a beautiful scene and the country or city name, but my eyes keep getting drawn back to the Polish one.
Maybe, when all the Nazis are dead, I’ll go there.

Clown Pirates

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Long ago, I sailed the seven seas, and the winds flew through my hair.
I wasn’t much of a sailor and neither was my crew. We became shipwrecked on The Island Of The Clown Pirates.
It would have been paradise if it hadn’t have been for the balloon animal parrots, big floppy peglegs, and a crazy rowboat that almost a hundred of them climbed out of, one by one.
They had no swords, but every one of them could hurl a wicked custard pie.
So, we decided to join them.
The winds now fly through my gigantic red fright wig.

Caulk

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I stood over the sheriff with my caulking gun, a ribbon of white goo still swinging from the nozzle.
The sheriff was confused. “Do you know how hard it’s going to be to get this crap out of my shirt?”
Not hard at all if you know what you’re doing.
You see, I run the town’s drycleaning shop.
Caulk is easy to get out of a shirt. Easier than blood.
That’s why I gunfight with a caulking gun.
He gets up, draws his gun, and shoots me.
Great. A huge bloodstain on my shirt.
This’ll be a bitch to fix.

Pot Of Gold

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The Leprechauns lost their gold to humans who followed rainbows right to them.
Leprechauns have long memories and even longer lives, so they worked with what little they had left to make real estate deals and investments to build up their fortunes once more.
Late-night advertisements offered cash for gold, luring desperate humans to mail the shiny metal back to the Leprechauns.
They learned their lesson with the rainbow-attracting pots, and built massive secure vaults deep under Ireland to store their treasure.
To keep the curious humans at bay, they set out a few pots filled with poison-coated Iron Pyrite.

Liberated

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We were liberated by the British.
The Americans, they bring doctors. They bring food. They bring water. They bring medicine. They bring trucks and jeeps. They talk and they cry.
The British, they bring nothing. Not even clothes.
I ask one for food, and he turn his back on me. He get into his jeep and drive off with other soldiers.
I cannot eat freedom. I cannot wrap myself in freedom.
We wander in the street, the forest.
We do not know where to go or what to do.
It starts to rain, and we open our mouths to drink.