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.
Tag: sick
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.
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.
Veterans
Ah, Veteran’s Day.
It’s important to remember and thank the people who have served.
Although, to tell you the truth, I don’t get Veteran’s Day off like I get Memorial Day off, so please forgive me if I’m not as thankful to you as your brothers-in-arms who gave their lives.
Yes, I’m still thankful, but… well… you know, right?
And as much as it bothers me to have my morning commute messed up by these parades, I’ll still wave the flag and salute you guys, and I won’t bitch about getting written up for being late.
Thank you, troops. Really.
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.
Loose change
Why did I just toss that dime on the sidewalk?
Well, everybody likes to find a dime or a quarter in the street, right?
I’m just trying to spread a little random joy.
It started back when I reached in my pocket and some change spilled out.
I picked up most of it, but decided to leave the rest.
Now, I just toss a dime or a quarter out every now and then.
What I don’t like is when bums ask me for a buck or two.
Then, I toss the money into a busy street.
“Go get it, jackass.”
The Price Of Admission
I wake up.
Everything hurts.
I check to see if I’m bleeding.
Just bruised, scratched and sore.
This time.
Checking my nose to see if it’s broken, I smell the most wonderful aroma.
I wobble out of bed, stagger to the kitchen, and Tiffany’s there making the most incredible breakfast.
As she always does.
But the price of admission is steep, I think, rubbing my wrist.
I gotta break it off… before she breaks it off.
And then the first bite.
Another. And another.
She reels me back in.
I finish. She smiles.
Tomorrow. We’ll break up tomorrow.
After breakfast.
Spectactle
The town hung criminals from a tree outside the courthouse.
People came from miles to watch.
Over time, it became an event.
Hawkers shouted LEMONADE and PRETZELS as they pushed their carts through the jubilant crowd.
The town decided this was in bad taste and ended the public hangings.
Instead, they made the hangings private.
The new county arboretum is a beautiful building, built around the old hanging tree.
Hangings are now private events. Invitation-only.
No people coming from miles to watch.
No pushcarts. No lemonade or pretzels.
Just the witnesses, the criminal, the hangman, and a bottle of champagne.
Interrogation
We bind his ankles and wrists with wire, put him in the chair, and shove a burlap sack over his head.
The manual then said: “When he wakes up, yank the hood off of his head.”
Fred read that wrong, and the moment the guy woke up, Fred yanked off his head.
What a mess.
At least the head was in a sack, but the rest just bled everywhere.
Afterwards, we wrote the author, suggesting that a tarp be put down under the chair, or at the very least some large rags or towels you don’t plan on using again.
Gestures
When a dog bows with its tail in the air and ears cocked forward, it is an invitation to play.
Get down on the ground and try it yourself. See what your dog does.
We had to teach this to the Bzzzzkt, who had mistaken this canine behavior for a Tktktktkt Death Beetle threat-crouch and had wiped out a large number of pets, living and cybernetic, in the colony domes.
It’s only fair to forgive them, as we mistook their friendship gesture as a form of anal rape.
Besides, the constant barking was getting annoying, and dog meat’s rather tasty.