The warning label on that bottle of drain cleaner tells you not to drink it.
And they’re right.
You’re supposed to sip it. Savor it.
Oh, and let the bottle breathe, like a fine wine.
Some people season their drain cleaner with flavors like peppermint or lemon, but a true aficionado will take it straight.
Oh, that skull and crossbones on the label?
That’s just letting you know there’s lots of calcium in there. You know, for healthy bones.
It’s just that the government doesn’t put nutritional labels on drain cleaner.
Do I want some?
No. I only drink diet.
Tag: sick
The Walls Have Ears
“The walls have ears,” the nuns tell us.
They are the ears of bad children that talk in class and get dragged by the ear to Mother Superior’s office.
Most kids scream in pain and walk willingly, but the tough ones resist.
The nuns tug harder and… sometimes the lobe tears right off.
After the child is beaten into submission by a flock of nuns with rulers, the prize earlobe is tacked up on the wall as a warning to the rest of the children.
Unless the parents buy it back in the annual Ear Auction.
You know, for charity.
Stolen Dreams
Ever have your dreams stolen from you?
It happens all the time, I know, but what can you do about it?
Can’t call the cops. It’s not a crime to steal dreams.
Can’t file an insurance claim. They’re not covered by homeowner policies.
I tried to put up posters around the neighborhood, but all people called me about was a lost cat and how much I wanted for my lawnmower.
One guy insisted on giving me his credit card number and making me talk dirty to him for two bucks a minute.
And that’s how I got my dreams back.
Knob
I wake up, get in the shower, and turn the knob.
Nothing.
No water.
Then, I realize I’ve turned the middle knob. The shower-or-bath knob.
Oops.
I turn the one to its left and HOT HOT PAIN HOT!
I stumble out of the shower and look at the note on the sink GET THE TEMPERATURE RIGHT FIRST damn, I forgot.
I reach back in and get the temperature right before stepping back in.
Soap. Shampoo. Shave. Brush.
I stepped out before turning the water off…
And couldn’t breathe.
On my nightstand, another note:
DRINK SLEEPING ELIXIR ANTIDOTE.
Can’t… reach… bottle…
Shower Her Out
You washed her out of your hair and down the drain.
But she’s back.
And she’s wrapping herself around friend after friend, whispering in their ears.
Sweet nothings. Worth nothings.
Preying on their loneliness
and fear
and greed
and all the things in her that made you get out the wire brushes and the borax…
SCRUB SCRUB SCRUB!
Can’t they see the bullshit for themselves?
Can’t they hear the bullshit for themselves?
What the fuck is wrong with them?
No, it’s not you. It’s them. It’s all of them.
They’ll wake up.
They’ll figure her out.
They’ll see. Eventually. Eventually.
Insanity
You know that Dave’s Insanity Sauce, the really hot hot sauce?
For some reason, people buy stuff that hurts them. It’s a macho thing, I guess.
Well, my client Dr. Odd is suing them for false advertising.
He says that despite the fact that the sauce causes discomfort to the point of mental duress, it doesn’t actually drive the person consuming it to a state of mental illness.
On the other hand, he’s developed formulas that will cause any range of madnesses, temporary and permanent.
True insanity sauces.
And those Dave’s people are ruining his business with their snake oil.
Lickable
Wonka stopped the tour and pointed to a wall with bright strips depicting fruits and vines.
“It’s lickable wallpaper,” he said. “Go ahead. Try it.”
So, the kids and adults stepped to the wall and licked it.
The cherries tasted like cherries.
The strawberries tasted like strawberries.
The snozzberries tasted like snozzberries.
And the blueberries tasted like… blood?
“I guess they got Violet down to the juicing room,” said Wonka.
Charlie waved his arms wildly, stuck to the wall by his tongue.
“Dith wum tafff diffgufftih!” he shouted.
“Oh, that’s flypaper,” said Wonka. “Lemme give you a hand, dear boy…”
A Perfect Ten To Twenty
My coach told me that nobody ever remembers the one who came in second.
So, that’s why I stabbed the bitch who came in first.
Well, that’s not the only reason.
You see, mom pushed me into gymnastics, pulled me out of school, and stuck me with a coach who taught me things that would have made Nabokov puke.
Look, unless you’re Mary Lou Fucking Retton, you’re washed up at eighteen.
So, yeah, I lost my shit, and I stabbed her.
She’ll live, but the coach won’t.
I don’t want that disgusting creep touching anyone else.
(He’s mine, dammit! MINE!)
Chocolate
Janey loves chocolate.
Just the mention of chocolate gets her all excited.
Her eyes open wide, and she smiles that smile, open slightly, waiting.
You could cover anything in chocolate and she’d want it.
Anything.
So, when the varsity football team heard about this, well, you knew there’d be trouble.
Boys will be boys, and when she saw the chocolate, she couldn’t resist.
Moments later, eleven panicked screaming jocks clutching their bleeding junk running for the nurse’s office.
Janey claimed innocence. “I didn’t mean to hurt them. I just got excited, that’s all. And I thought they were solid chocolate.”
Safe To Eat
I had to look twice to make sure I read it right.
Sure enough, the recipe called for Silly Putty.
“Is that shit safe?” I asked my wife. “I mean, can anything which picks up ink from the funnies be considered safe to eat?”
“Well, the package does say it’s non-toxic,” says my wife.
“So is a bucket of pinballs, but you don’t see me stir-frying them with snowpeas and carrots.”
“Mmmmmmm pinballs! We have ranch dressing, right?”
I closed the cookbook, put it back on the shelf, and headed out to the old-timey game arcade to shop for dinner.