The old gunslinger pulled out a flask, took a swig, and then offered it to me.
“Shot of liquid courage?” he coughed.
“No thanks, I don’t drink,” I said.
“It’s not whiskey,” said the gunslinger. “It’s liquid courage. Made by a wizard who lives out in the hills.”
I took the flask, held it to my nose, and…
It didn’t smell like alcohol.
It smelled like… well, it’s hard to describe…
It smelled like courage.
Chest-puffed out, none of the stink of fear kind.
I didn’t drink any, though.
I mean, his lips had been on the flask.
Bleeeeeeeeeeech! Disgusting!
Tag: cliche
Down the drain
You look tired.
Let me tell you a secret.
Some people wake up to the smell of freshly-brewed coffee, but caffeine is a drug and that just gets you wired for an hour.
I was late when my coffee machine broke, so while I was showering, I peed in the drain.
It takes a few seconds for the smell to hit your nose, but when it does, it sure as heck wakes you up.
Yeah, no matter how good your aim is, you still need to wash the tub down.
At least you’re awake.
(Just don’t take a shit, okay?)
The Velveteen Robot
Tony is a robot, an experiment in artificial intelligence and learning.
Joe goes down to the lab and reads books to the robot.
The robot listens quietly.
Once, after reading The Velveteen Rabbit, the robot asks if it could ever be alive.
Joe doesn’t know how to answer.
“I am the Velveteen Robot,” says Tony.
Joe shrugs, and brings in velvet for the robot to wrap in.
Tony bends its pair of antenna, wraps them like rabbit ears, sews on cotton for a tail.
Then it tries to hop, jars a power cable loose, and falls over with a thud.
Come Out Swinging
I once knew a judge who was sick and tired of his rulings getting appealed.
So, every time a court overturned one of his rulings, he’d drive to that judge’s house and punch them in the face.
Still the appeals kept coming, so he changed tactics: when someone appealed his rulings, he’d drive to their house and punch them in the face.
These days, he strides into the courtroom, wearing his black robe like a boxer’s, preferring black trunks with black boots and gloves.
He smacks the gavel against the bell, comes out swinging, and the litigants run for cover.
Ken
Have you ever heard of Ken Nordine?
He’s a famous voiceover artist.
Oh, and he did a bunch of albums and recordings called Word Jazz.
You’d recognize him if I played one of his pieces.
Hold on… let me play a track for you…
You’ve heard him?
I told you so.
Well, the voices in my head sound exactly like him.
Ken Nordine. In my head.
Telling me to set things on fire.
And kill people.
But he’s so mellow, that I’m too relaxed and chilled out to set things on fire and kill people.
Until my meds wear off.
Jar
We lay down, I hold her close, and she’s shaking.
She tells me she has bad dreams.
So, I whisper “Tell me about them” into her ear.
She shakes her head. “No.”
I hold her tighter, then… i breathe in deep.
I feel her relax as I suck the bad memories out through her ear.
They taste horrible, vomit and burning slime.
I reach for the jar, and spit the dreams out.
I seal the lid tightly.
Done.
She smiles, her eyes distant… vacant…
Safe.
I lay back down, hold her close.
Maybe this time, she’ll not drink them again.
Backwards and in Heels
Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, but backwards and in heels.
Absolutely everything. Just like that Benjamin Button fellow, she aged backwards.
At first, she needed makeup and pain pills to match her dance partner’s youth and speed, but over time, her body loosened up, and her wrinkles faded.
Oh, how radiant they were, Ginger’s bright face, shining like a starlet’s, gazing into Fred’s eyes.
Younger… younger… then, the audiences got suspicious, so the makeup boys came back in to turn forward the clock.
They looked back and laughed, Fred wheezing heavily, and Ginger as giddy as a schoolgirl.
Turning Evil
The Black Rhinoceros recently became extinct.
Poachers hunted the species to extinction because traditional Chinese medicine says their pulverized horns are used for banishing demons.
Many other species are also being hunted to extinction because of similar bogus medical practices.
Since fining poachers and impounding poached material hasn’t worked, I proposed a new solution:
A new branch of quack medicine where the dried and powdered hearts of poachers made for an anti-aging powder.
As for the Chinese medicine practitioners, their pituitary glands make for excellent protection from income tax audits.
When you can’t defeat evil alone, turn evil on itself.
Dirty Laundry
Marie Antoinette was known for her extravagance, insisting on the finest things and only using them once before tossing them aside.
She also insisted that nobody else be permitted to use them, so the cellars filled quickly with silverware, porcelain plates, crystal glasses, silk handkerchiefs, and even her linen undergarments.
Standing before the angry crowd, she saw that they’d raised the palace’s storerooms, and were waving forks and knives and plates and handkerchiefs and…
Her underwear.
All of her dirty laundry, out there for everyone to see.
She looked at the blade and winced.
“Mind cleaning it first?” she asked.
Iron Fist
We live in a dictatorship.
The Great Leader rules the land with an iron fist.
Well, it’s actually a rather nice-looking prosthetic. Rather functional, too. He used to be medical technology engineer who worked with advanced robotics before he went into politics, but he still dabbles in the field now and then when the country’s running smoothly.
Which is rather often, even during disasters. We’re all quite well prepared for most circumstances, and don’t panic in a crisis.
Neighboring countries regularly beg for us to invade them and take them over, but we’re quite content to manage our own affairs.