Rest Home

It’s been quiet at home ever since we took Grampa to the rest home and his horse Old Paint to the glue factory.
He rode that horse everywhere… to the store… to the mailbox… to the bathroom…
We’re supposed to let him get his bearings for a few days at the retirement community, but the next day we missed him something fierce, so we all got in the truck and headed over.
I opened the door and…
Saw Old Paint standing in his room.
“Where’s Grampa?” I said.
We got back in the truck and raced to the glue factory.

No Squid Left Behind

Due to a mixup, Fillmore High School enacted a No Squid Left Behind policy during the Bush Administration, and sure enough, the entire Senior class ended up being a swimming pool full of squid.
Which, was a shame, since the pool was filled with chlorinated fresh water, and it killed all the saltwater squid.
They weren’t bad squid at all. Well-behaved on the whole.
None of the cheerleading squad got knocked up, no fights in the hallways.
Oh, sure, academics suffered greatly. So did athletics.
You’d think they’d win State in swimming, but as I said, the pool was lethal.

Skipping Stones

My pocket is full of small stones.
They’re all flat and round, perfect for skipping.
I love to skip stones on the water.
I love to watch the ripples on the water.
Reminds me of growing up by the lake, spending the whole afternoon out there with my dog and a bottle of Coke, the fish weren’t biting, so I’d put down the fishing rod and skip stones.
The angles.
The rotation.
The spin.
A great way to pass the time, right?
Okay, so maybe not in the fountain in the mall. Sorry.
(Can I have my fishing pole back?)

Water Fight

There’s nothing that says summertime fun quite like water balloon fights.
We’d fill up balloons with water, train them to fight, and then take them down to the barrio where the best fighting pits were.
The hardest part about water balloon fights is strapping on the razor blade spurs without popping the balloons. With all the people shouting and passing money back and forth, it’s difficult to keep your elbow from getting jogged and your grip slipping.
Then, there’s the cops.
One trainer shouts “RAID!” and everyone scatters.
Just don’t throw the balloons at them. Especially the ones with spurs.

Occam

Occam The Philosopher had a face that was as smooth as a baby’s butt, and he was quite proud of it.
“I have a very sharp razor,” said Occam. “I also have very expensive shaving cream, a soft lathering brush, a silver mirror, and a rare herbal aftershave.”
“Isn’t that horribly complicated?” I replied. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to use a depilatory cream?”
“Sometimes the simplest solution isn’t the best one,” Occam said.
Many years later, I saw him hawking an all-in-one shaving contraption on television.
“Just one button!” he shouted. “What could be simpler?”
Growing a beard, I thought.

The Zoo Train

One of my earliest memories was when mom and dad would take me to the zoo, where we’d ride the train.
I think my grandfather was there. I’m not sure. I don’t remember much of him.
Every few years, we’d meet together at the zoo, looking at all the changes to exhibits, new animals, cages replaced with glass walls or open roaming areas.
The train gets polished up, repainted.
We took my kids there. We’d ride, look around. So many changes, so many things stay the same.
The monkeys, the giraffes, the lions.
The memories, as we all ride on.

Sand

“Nothing is permanent,” says the priestess.
“We only write our names in sand,” chants the crowd following her to the beach.
Young men gather sticks and write their names in the wet sand.
Then, they lay in small pits and bury each other up to their necks.
The priestess helps with the last man, and they wait for the tide to come in.
The waves get closer… closer… soaking the mens’ faces… some burst up from the sand and flee.
One more to go… and… did he drown?
No! He rises and stands!
Bow down, for he is your chief!

Try This

Every so often, you’ll see a stunt on television where they say “We’re experts, you’re not. So don’t try this at home.” People still do that stuff, and they get hurt.
(Idiots!)
And when you browse websites, you’ll see warnings that a link is “Not safe for work.” People still click it and get fired.
(Dumbasses!)
But there’s a few things out there that absolutely nobody should do, see, or experience.
They’re kept in a vault 3 miles underground, guarded around the clock.
I know this, because I’m one of the guards.
And the fucking elevator’s out of order.
(Sonofabitch!)

The Invention

I started as a chemist, working on cures for diseases and debilitating chronic conditions.
Instead, my research ended up being marketed for food coloring, artificial flavors, and other enhancements for cheap mass-produced foods.
Disgusted, I turned to physics, working on renewable and environmentally-friendly energy generation methods.
To my horror, the technology ended up used to create gaudy and useless toys and gadgets that people would play with for a while, then throw in the trash.
That’s when I gave up, moved to the woods, and bred dogs.
Anyway, that’s my story. So, Mr. Vick, which dogs did you want again?

Plus

What’s all of this fuss
About Google Plus?
You’re suspended? You’re blocked?
Well, color me shocked!
Did you think for a minute
They’d let you stay in it?
The circles and streams
Fill up with your screams
Of protest and threat
They’re not listening, I bet.
If they took time to explain
We’re just a nuisance, a drain
We don’t buy all that stuff
The ads sell, so tough!
Facebook’s just the same
We don’t fit in their game.
When will Twitter become
Like these “real name” scum?
Well, you can all go to Hell
(Time to log into SL.)