The Umbrella Man goes from place to place, selling umbrellas to people in nice suits and dresses.
And he sells them cheap: five bucks each. All colors, all styles, all sizes.
I just lost mine on the bus, people say.
Left mine at the restaurant.
Or maybe in the cab.
It doesn’t take long for him to sell them all.
On the way home, he checks the forecast and stops by the municipal Lost And Found.
Handing his friend there a hundred, he gets another batch.
Selecting an umbrella, he opens it, smiles, and heads back out into the rain.
Tag: society
The Dragon
There was an island north of Scotland that would crown the girl with the purest heart their Winter Princess and send her off to The Dragon Of The Hill.
That’s what they called The Mother Superior in the church’s school, and she’d welcome the girl into the convent and the other Sisters Of Mercy.
Some became nurses in the hospital.
Others became teachers in the school.
And one or two were groomed to become the next Dragon Of The Hill.
Today, the island is quiet, and one final Dragon watches the snow outside her window, waiting… watching, praying silent prayers.
Push Your Luck
Jack and Sally were pushing their luck at the Craps table.
The casino practically pouring vodka into them, good old liquid courage, so one more roll?
Jack thrust the dice at Sally. “Kiss ‘em for luck.”
“We haven’t needed that till now.”
“Just blow!” snarled Jack. So, she did… and vomited on his hand.
“NO BET!” said the croupier.
They were escorted off the floor as the next shooter tossed snake eyes.
When they sobered up, they counted seventy thousand dollars.
“We could have lost all that,” said Sally.
“Told you so,” said Jack.
(Instead, they lost it in poker.)
Relativism
I watched the tape of the Filipinos nailing themselves to crosses and winced.
I winced harder at the sight of Muslims whipping themselves bloody on Ashura.
What kind of God makes his followers hurt themselves like that?
I shook my head, closed up the laptop, and headed to my aunt’s house for the family’s Passover feast.
Usually, my mom cooked, but my aunt insisted this year.
I parked the car, and as I stepped on to the porch…
Oh, god! The stench!
Got a spare cross handy? How about a chain?
I’ll suffer anything but having to eat this crap!
Dividing Things Up
Breaking up is hard to do.
Dividing up the furniture, all the stuff.
It used to be you could just sort out the book and record collections, but Amazon and iTunes make that a pain in the ass.
And then there’s the friends.
How do you divide up the friends?
Doctor Odd suggested cloning them, but that’s a hassle, too.
Who gets the clone? Who gets the original?
So he’s experimenting with quantum universes. A universe exactly the same.
But without you. And you’ll go to one without me.
Which solves the book and record collection issues, too, I guess.
The Numbers
Our country is in trouble.
Budget problems, and politicians unwilling to face them.
They form committees… supercommittes, but nothing happens.
That’s when we sent in a team of chefs.
The chefs took one look, grabbed the books, and threw out the cooks trying to cook them.
After washing the fudge off of the numbers, they brought in masseuses to massage the numbers to get them to relax.
The ugliest of the numbers were sent to a beauty salon to make as nice as they could.
Finally, the numbers were released…
And they ran for the hills as our country collapsed.
The King Of Trashland
Out by the dump, there’s a team of those Green Energy scientists laying down tarps, hooking up pipes to a Methane collection system to generate energy for the town.
However, after getting bitten by rats and dogs a few too many times, the scientists have gone a bit funny in the head, and they’ve arranged the pipes and trash into a massive fort, topped by flamethrower turrets.
Anyone carting stuff out to the dump now has to pay The King Of Trashland a tribute, like a bag full of Big Macs, or sneakers.
I knew we should have gone solar.
Fighters
After the revolution, the transitional government sent some of their wounded fighters to an American hospital for treatment and rehabilitation.
While the patients healed up, the hospital offered television and newspapers from their homeland, and the kitchen prepares meals of pita bread and olives instead of the usual bland fare with lime Jell-O the other patients get.
Even though they had an interpreter, yellow sticky notes were placed on various items to help the patients learn some basic English words.
As a prank, some notes were switched.
The nurse listened, nodded and smiled. “I guess television is a toilet everywhere.”
Good Eatin
We needed to get into town to pick up supplies, so we got in the boat and headed for the mainland.
It was a calm day, so we fired up the motor, despite manatee safety restrictions in the area.
Sure enough, we heard a loud WHUMP! and we fell to the deck.
I lost my sunglasses in the water. Damn.
Oh well.
I looked to see what we’d hit.
A dead manatee, floating on the surface.
“What wine goes with manatee?” I asked.
The captain grinned and pulled out a bottle. “This.”
We hauled it aboard and dashed back home.
Stamp
I can’t remember the last time I needed a stamp.
I pay my bills online with online banking.
I send electronic cards to most people. Okay, some merit actual cards, but postage is prepaid by Hallmark now.
Heck, when was the last time I needed a letter at all? Those are also electronic messages, through my email or via a phone or some instant messenger program.
Oh, now I remember: I had a cut on my finger, and I didn’t have a bandage.
Then, I fell asleep, and someone dropped me into a mailbox.
Clunk.
LET ME OUT OF HERE!