One glance, and the gaze of Medusa the Gorgon will turn you to stone.
However, being Greek, she has access to free state-provided healthcare.
We all have rights, even criminals and legendary monsters, no?
Monster… such a cruel term… when you get to know her, she’s not all that bad.
Zeus may have robbed her of outer beauty, but not her inner charm.
And you don’t have to look in her eyes to give her a pelvic examination. And you can cover them for dental work.
But of all the ophthalmologists in Athens, why did she have to pick me?
Tag: sick
Zombie Chess
It’s fun to play Zombie Chess.
Just gather up zombies, dress them up like chesspieces, and nailgun then to the platforms so they’ll stay put.
Okay, so it can be a bit scary, walking around the board and shoving the zombies around as each move is called, but it’s satisfying when a piece is captured and you get to chop them to bits.
However, when a pawn reaches the final row, it would take a while to get that pawn stripped and recostumed as a queen.
So, we cut corners.
Here’s your crown…
THUNK!
Once again, thank goodness for nailguns.
Outhouse
The biggest problem with all-powerful beings is that they tend to be immortal, too.
And immortal beings lack the same sense of urgency that mortal beings have.
So, yes, your Uncle Stan may be trapped under a collapsed outhouse, but the odds of Hrathnor The Mighty answering your prayers promptly are almost exactly zero.
To Hrathnor, time is meaningless. He’s infinitely patient. Why rush?
However, if he needs to take a dump, and the only outhouse is collapsed on your Uncle Stan, yeah, he’ll do something.
Just hope he rescues your uncle before magically repairing the outhouse and using it.
Tornado Drill
The teachers told us that the tornado drills were meant to practice what we’d need to do in an emergency, but the real reason for them is so that in a disaster it’s a bit easier for the authorities to count up the bodies and identify them.
If everyone was running around screaming, the tornado would be tossing them all over the place. Even fat kids… I heard that after one tornado, a fat kid ended up tossed through a tree five miles away.
As for fire drills, okay, go ahead. Run around screaming. See if we care, you bastards.
Messages
Ghosts carved messages on my arms at night.
Only when I showered off the blood did I see the messages clearly.
I ignored them, bandaged my arms, and went about my day.
So, the ghosts carved messages on to my legs… my chest… my back… my face…
More bandages.
I used up all my vacation time… should I call a priest… watching television… drinking… drinking…
Then, I realized… I don’t believe in ghosts.
I hired a nurse to tie me to the bed at night.
After that, the ghosts left me alone.
(But the nurse beat me with a hammer.)
The Unforgiving Tree
As the old man sat on the stump of The Giving Tree, he pondered all that he had taken from his beloved friend.
Her leaves to make crowns.
Her apples to sell for money.
Her branches to build a house.
Her trunk to build a boat.
And what had he given her?
Nothing.
Clutching his chest, he let out a gasp, and died.
The Giving Tree laughed. “Serves you right, you greedy bastard.”
She laughed for hours, until the old man’s sons dug up her stump and carved a coffin from it, as the old man instructed in his will.
Beautiful
Why did I do that?
Because The Devil made me do it.
The Devil doesn’t look like some horned monster with hoofs and a barbed tail.
He’s beautiful. Sounds beautiful.
Like an angel.
Because that’s what he is… was…
That’s why so many people fall for his tricks.
If an angel told you to do something, you wouldn’t ask for ID.
You’d do it.
Besides, even if you ask for his name, he’d just lie.
He’s Gabriel, just left his horn at home.
He’s Michael, didn’t bring his sword.
He smiles, tells you to shove someone into traffic.
And vanishes.
The Daily Special
I can never decide what I want to get at a restaurant.
So, I don’t bother with a menu.
I just let the waiter tell me the specials and I say “Surprise me.”
The most surprised I’ve ever been was when a Turkish chef prepared shish kebab skewers, set them on fire, and launched them with a crossbow at the wall above my head.
It was the best dinner I’d never had, and I thanked the chef, the owner, and the entire staff for that night.
What’s the name of the place?
Doesn’t matter. It burned down years ago.
Checksum
Back in the day of videotapes, each generation of duplication created worse signal until you ended up with nothing but static.
Nowadays, digital encoding allows perfect duplication of content, and any errors are caught and fixed using mathematical tests called checksums which add up the ones and zeroes, then compares the copies to ensure they’re identical.
The same applies for the doppelgangers of important people we copy for various purposes. Quantum checksum comparisons ensure we’ll get the right information out of a clone we’re torturing.
Oh, did we kill the clone?
Copy another, and try the knotted whip this time.
This Is
The hospital room has yellow notes on everything. I read them as I drag the drip stand around.
This is a chair.
This is a door.
This is a mirror.
I stare at the bandaged and bloody figure in the mirror.
A horror movie monster, putrid and burned. It shocks me when it moves.
This is a nightmare.
This is an abomination.
I read the bag on the drip stand:
This is retromutagen.
The door opens; This is a robot enters.
The staff cannot risk exposure.
Again.
I wasn’t careful. One bit me.
Now, I understand why.
This is… hunger.