I don’t watch much television these days, but there’s this show I used to like called “The Ghost Whisperer.”
Some chick with big tits sees ghosts, talks to them, resolves their issues, and convinces them to head off into the light so they can move on.
If the producers were really serious about getting ghosts to move on, they could have gone with Gilbert Gottfried, though.
Anybody who talks to him for more than a minute, ghost or not, would be running for the light regardless of how fucked up their shit was or any leftover business here on earth.
Tag: silly
Loathing
Every morning when I wake up, I look in the mirror and I don’t like what I see there.
So, to save time and effort, I just signed a contract to outsource all of my self-loathing to India. The entire city of Mumbai now despises me for me.
They send me a daily report through email, with the occasional critical updates via text message to my phone.
This frees me up to focus on loathing everybody and everything else.
I’d outsource my self-righteousness to them, too, but they can’t possibly do as good a job at it as I can!
When I’m dead
I can’t decide.
Do I want to be buried and get a tombstone with “THIS SIDE UP” engraved on the bottom?
Do I want to be cremated with dozens of firecrackers shoved up my ass?
Do I want my lifeless corpse tossed to the carnivorous animals at the zoo?
I came up with a list of all kinds of interesting things I’d want done to my corpse.
Then, I had myself cloned.
Not so I can live on, mind you. What’s the point of that?
It’s so I can have all of these things done to me after I’m dead!
Imaginary Friend
Most kids have imaginary friends.
I had an imaginary theater critic.
He’d go on and on about Broadway flops and the Tony Awards, or the latest Sondheim production.
I’d yell at him to shut the hell up.
We lived in Iowa. We never went to Broadway.
We didn’t go to the movies or watch plays on television, either.
I never tried out for plays in school because I was homeschooled.
I thought about trading with my friends for their imaginary friends, but I didn’t have any.
Because I was homeschooled, and my only friend was Bert, raving about South Pacific.
The Power Of Prayer
Long ago, I got onto an elevator at a hospital, and there was a priest in it.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” they said. “I’m the hospital chaplain. Is there someone you know needing prayer?”
The elevator door closed, and he reached for a button.
I stopped him.
“I don’t believe in prayer,” I said. “And I think you’re a fraud. But, you can prove me wrong… pray for God to move this elevator.”
Nothing happened.
And then… the elevator moved.
I dropped to my knees and began howling LORD JESUS, THANK YOU!
The door opened, and the frightened priest ran.
War Is Fun
Other kids set up their toy soldiers in battles, arranging men and tanks and plastic barbed wire on their basement floors.
Ralphie’s different. He stages courts-martial, using a television court drama’s action playset to bring the war criminals of his toy chest to justice.
He also turned a hospital set into a VA hospital in which to treat the wounded members of his plastic green army.
Then there’s the brothel…
His sister stomps into the basement, demands her Barbies back, and kicks the courtroom and hospital over before returning to her room.
The door slams.
Ralphie blinks, and shouts: “TORNADO!”
Skates
I met an ogre named Wilson.
We became friends.
I introduced him to my other friends.
They welcomed him into our circle of friends.
We went to the movies.
We went out for pizza.
We watched a baseball game.
But when we went roller-skating, they didn’t have any shoes Wilson’s size.
We took turns sitting with Wilson as he watched the others skate.
We tried to make roller-skates his size, and they fit great.
Wilson took a few steps…. and he fell on his ass.
We laughed.
Wilson didn’t. And he attacked the village.
Go get your pitchforks and torches.
The Unknown
I put down my repair kit and I place my finger on the scanner next to the door.
UNKNOWN
I wipe it with a cloth and try again.
UNKNOWN
“Is there something wrong with the scanner?” I ask the guard standing by the door.
He shrugs. “I just work here, man.”
“Can I show you my ID?” I ask the guard.
“Yes, but it won’t do any good,” said the guard. “I don’t know who can enter. And I can’t open the door, either.”
I try again.
UNKNOWN
Then, I realized: It was the scanner I’d been called to repair.
Thanksgiving Meat
Nobody in our family likes turkey, so for Thanksgiving we’ll roast different animals.
One year, we had giraffe. Plenty of neck meat to go around.
Then there was elephant, but it didn’t fit in the oven. Had to roast it on a spit and rig up a generator and motor to rotate it over the fire.
We had plenty of rattlesnake to go around. And everybody got a belt for Christmas, too.
Nobody wanted the jellyfish or slugs. Those years, we ran out of sweet potatoes and stuffing early.
This year, we’ll get a jump on shopping and do kangaroo.
Baskets
Mom told me not to put all my eggs in one basket, so I put then in two baskets, one hanging from each hand.
As I walked to the market, The Evil Basket Thief jumped from the bushes and blocked my path.
Oh crap. Not again.
“Ohhhh, what lovely baskets!” he chirped, rubbing his hands together. “I think I’ll take them both and add them to my collection!”
I sighed, put down one of the baskets, and drew my pistol.
“Uh oh,” said The Evil Basket Thief.
Dad told me not to put all my shots into the target’s midsection.