I never go outside. It’s not safe out there anymore.
I get everything delivered.
I know what time of year it is by the designs on the Coke cans.
They do those polar bears in winter, fireworks in summer, and scary stuff in Halloween time.
And Santa for Christmas.
A kid comes to deliver the Coke and groceries, and he takes the empties out to the corner for pickup.
“You drink so much of that stuff, why don’t you get the two-liter bottles?” says the kid.
I like it in cans.
And I told the store to send another kid.
Tag: food
Lemons and Tomatoes
The optimist takes the lemons that life hands him to make lemonade.
But when the artist has tomatoes thrown at him for his art, there are so many more options.
There’s a rich tomato bisque on the back burner there.
Smell that. It’s good, yes?
I made a bottle of ketchup the other day that’s thicker and richer than any store-brand ketchup you can buy.
What else is there on my stove? Oh, that’s a spaghetti sauce.
Here. Taste it. Try it.
A little more salt?
Let me take some out of this wound they tried to rub it in.
Pie Smell
For a year, while my body fought off the virus, I was unable to move.
Blind. Deaf. Insensate.
A machine helped me to breathe, and I was fed through a tube.
Alone in my thoughts. In the darkness.
And then, I could blink my eyes.
Left, yes.
Right, no.
They taught me a simple code to use.
So, I asked for a freshly-baked pie.
No, I can’t eat it. I still have to eat through a tube.
I just want to smell it.
Maybe that… and flowers… and perfumes…
They will draw me out of myself.
Back to life again.
Rainbow Slide
Is it not every man’s dream to climb the St. Louis Arch and paint it like a rainbow?
Then, with the sun at their back, they strip off their climbing gear to reveal a mighty glittering Thor costume, and, swinging their hammer wildly, they slide down the rainbow bringing greetings and tidings from Asguard.
Ah, yes.
Sadly, it takes money to accomplish such feats, and corporate sponsorship, though lucrative, corrupts all it touches. So, yes tossing Skittles while shouting TASTE THE RAINBOW! is overwhelming, it ruins the purity of the act.
Promote the Avengers movie?
Sure, why not?
MJOLNIR… COME!
The Short End
Ever felt like you’ve ended up holding the short end of the stick?
This baffles me. I’ve always wondered which end of the stick is the short end of the stick.
After gathering thousands of sticks and carefully measuring every end of them, I’ve come to the conclusion that despite the wide variety in sharpness, thickness, branching, and leafiness, sticks don’t actually have short or long ends.
Other researchers working independently have confirmed my conclusions.
Then, we went camping together, gathered up some sticks to make a fire, and roasted marshmallows and wieners with the longer sticks.
Science is fun.
Tower
I love making towers out of soup crackers.
The trick is to mush up some crackers in the soup to make a mortar.
Not too dry, or they won’t stick and the tower won’t stand up.
And not too wet, or it will soak the crackers in the tower and threaten the structural stability.
You’ve got to get the mortar just right, and there’s such a small window in which you can use it before it dries up.
The type of soup’s important, too.
Tomato’s good.
So is French Onion, but I think that using the gooey cheese is cheating.
Tails
Some people eat crawdads from the bucket and toss the shells on their tray.
Other people dump out the crawdads on to their tray and put the empty shells back into the bucket.
“It’s cleaner that way,” they say. “You’re putting the trash back into the bucket.”
Except that all the juices pour out on to the tray when you dump out the bucket.
Which is right?
To me, It doesn’t matter how I shuck the crawdads and where I toss the shells, as long as I save a few tails to bring home.
(Nardo loves the smelly little things.)
Never again
Every now and then, I have a drink, but not as much as I once did.
Yeah, in my prime, I was a drunk.
My college transcript was done with a breathalyzer.
Used to drink four margaritas at Cabo’s, or nine Red Bull and Jagermeisters somewhere else.
Said “Never again” enough to make Elie Wiesel demand royalties.
And my old pal Jack Daniels, well, he’s been married three times: Coke, diet Coke, and Coke Zero.
Ain’t alimony a zero-calorie bitch?
Nowadays, maybe some wine, or coffee needs a dash of Bailey’s, but just for flavor, mind you.
Drunk?
Never again.
A Twist On Oliver
Oliver walked up to the Beadle, empty bowl held high.
“I’d like some less, please,” he said.
The Beadle looked down, confused.
“Less?” he asked. “But… the bowl’s empty.”
“Yes, I know,” said Oliver. “And I regret eating it all. Far, far too much. So, if you can’t spoon out less into these bowls, maybe smaller bowls?”
The Beadle nodded. “That we can do.”
So, the next day, smaller bowls of gruel were dished out for all the kids.
Oliver, being the smallest, could subside on little, so the bigger kids starved quicker and all died.
Alone, Oliver laughed heartily.
Evil Cloud
A hum, an evil cloud of acrid temptation spreads across the office floor, from desk to desk it is sucked in by its unwitting victims, smothering them with the irresistible hungry urge… hunger… want…
“Who the fuck made microwave popcorn, dammit?” growls my scruffy hipster cube-mate Sherman. “That shit’s worse than Tina’s perfume.”
Or Sherman’s aftershave, I don’t say. Smells like a sweaty gun range.
DING! The microwave is done. The sound of the door opening, a rip.
The air handlers will kick in and dissipate this horrid clou-
The microwave door closes. The hum returns.
Damn it! Another bag!