Lifetime warranty

Bob bought a gun safe for his guns so he could lock them up so they’d be safe from burglars.
The gun safe came with a lifetime warranty.
The manufacturer would fix any issues free of charge.
One night, a burglar broke into Bob’s house, opened the gun safe, and shot Bob.
As Bob lay bleeding on the floor, he wondered how the burglar got his gun from the safe.
Bob’s son inherited the gun safe, but the manufacturer refused to fix the lock issue.
“The owner died, didn’t he?” they said. “His lifetime’s over, and so is the warranty.”

Weekly Challenge #759 – Revolution

Box kitty


A giant creature moved forward sluggishly, its head bowed down.
They knew it was coming. They thought they had enough time to prepare themselves.
They drafted a plan. They created the trap.
They didn’t monitor its growth. It’s OK, some said, it’ll be fine.
When they saw it, they knew they were in trouble.
Who’ll be the sacrificial hero? Who? No one wanted to be a hero.
Arguments, fighting. Some died. Let’s feed those to the beast.
No, no respect for the dead.
Some were imprisoned.
Yes, let the revolution begin now… before everyone gets killed, one way or another.


Come the Яevolution

Come the revolution, things are going to change around here.

No more of your Western decadence, your relentless consumerism and your immoral, self-serving lifestyles.

Come the revolution, the glorious leader will rule with an iron fist and your capitalist ideals will be trodden underfoot.

And, come the revolution, I will stand at the forefront, proudly hoisting the glorious flag of the hammer and sickle.

Mark my words, the day is coming soon!


What do you mean the revolution already happened?

You say I missed it?

Remind me – never to rely on communist newspaper for latest information again.


It has always fascinated me how the smallest, incremental movements can have the most devastating results.

Like how the slightest squeeze of a finger on a trigger can bring about instant death.

Or, let’s consider the position you find yourself in now.

Limbs secured and stretched to their limit, sinews straining, muscles taut.

And all it takes is for me to turn the wheel through just a fraction of a revolution to cause the most extreme and intense pain that can be imagined.

And, just imagine if I gave it a full turn?

Except, you don’t have to imagine it!


Pictures of Chairman Mooow

I saw the topic and immediately thought of the Beatle’s song. Problem is four day of news feds, dead tired. I’m trying to remember what it was like to be a 15 year old kid watching a nation pull itself apart. Revolution, the song, pissed a lot of adults off. What they missed was song was posing the question: Show me a better way. I still see it as a love song to possibility. Just as a lark I took a look at my 45 collection, there it was. With that spit apple background, Hey Jude on the flip side.


Karma Revolution

There’s a common thread that runs between God and the devil, right and wrong, yin and yang, darkness and light. It creates a thin but definable line.

As we sow … so shall we reap.

Karma comes in all shapes and sizes … but … sometimes karma is slow, so I lend a hand. Oftentimes a digital photo in an email, or a well-placed rumor worked as well as a slashed tire … Or injury.

“For the greater good”!

In a county of small towns … tales of bad karma travel … and folks buy into it. We have built a real nice community here!


Vinyl discs at 33 rpm are the perfect form of music reproduction. You can keep your CDs, yes I know you can get scratches and cat pee on them and they’ll still play, but what sort of quality is that? And digital files that play identically every time, completely soulless. An LP is a living thing, whose hisses and crackles are mementos of the owner’s relationship with it. Playing an LP is like making love, compared with which an MP3 file is like a whore off the street.

At least, that’s what I told myself until I got an iPod.


The two agents moved in on Dergle, one on each side, acting aggressive. “Look, Weiner Dog man. We’re the legitimate authority, not your crowd that play’s at keeping the law and order.”

Dergle tried to look at each agent at once, ending up looking cross eyed. “Does legitimate authority try to take a minor against his will without his parents or other legal guardian?”

One of the agent’s shook his head. “You supers think you’re going to start a revolution and recreate our national intelligence agencies.”

Dergle laughed. “We’re not trying to recreate anything. We just want to augment it.”


Nobody has seen the King for years.
Decisions are still being made by “The Palace” but nobody has actually seen the King or heard anything out of him.
It’s just “The Palace” making the decisions, say his advisors.
If you demand to see the King, you’ve turned away by the guards.
The guards, the servants, the advisors… everyone is silent.
I got a job as a cook, managed my way into the King’s chambers.
Laying on the bed, wires all throughout his body.
“I am the palace now,” says a voice.
And I ran. And I haven’t stopped running since.

Not everyone is as spiteful as I am

After she quit her job, she left the tree in her office.
The one I gave her as a wedding present.
In fairness, she did take the clock and the pitcher I gave her.
So, it wasn’t something out of spite.
Just convenience.
I could ask her. I have her address, right?
But I won’t.
I dragged the tree to the hallway.
It’s outside our office pod door.
The red birdie sits in the branches.
I squeeze it, and the batteries still work.
The shrill chirp of the cardinal rings through the hallway.
I smile, and go back to work.

The quiet birthday

I knew I’d fall asleep before she got home.
So, I wrapped up the shirt she wanted, left the package next to the jar with the flowers I picked up at the grocery store, and leaned a pair of cards from me and the cats against them.
By the time I woke up, she was already asleep.
It’s like this, so often. Living alone together.
On the weekends, we’re quiet.
Football or baseball or basketball or something on the television.
She reads, I’m online doing something or another.
As long as the cats get fed, they don’t mind at all.

Wish for the sun

if the sun explodes now
right now
it will take eight minutes
for us to realize that it has exploded
it takes eight minutes
for light to travel
from the sun to us
we won’t know sooner
because nothing travels faster than light
even if we surrounded the sun
with satellites
it would take eight minutes
for the radio signals
to travel
so, any time you’re stuck somewhere
and wish that the sun would explode
right now
to end it all
you’ve got another eight minutes of that shit
wish for the sun
to have exploded eight minutes ago.

In the room…

When people are ignoring something important, some people say “There’s an 800-pound gorilla in the room.” Or “There’s an elephant in the room.” And a few still say “There’s an n-word in the woodpile.”
The problem is, there is an 800-pound gorilla in the room. And an elephant. And an African American in the woodpile. It’s rude to say n-word these days. But if you ask the guy sitting in the woodpile, he prefers that you just call him “Steve.”
Instead of avoiding the issue, I pick up the phone and call the front desk.
“I’d like another room, please.”

No bribe uncounted

One candidate said that he would leave no stone unturned in the hunt for corruption.
The other candidate said that she would go no holds unbarred in the hunt for corruption.
They sparred constantly during the campaign.
The winner ended up leaving no stone unbarred in the hunt for corruption.
While the loser spent the next two years accusing the winner of failing to leave no hold unturned.
When the microphones were off, both would check their pockets for the money that had been slipped in there.
Whatever their campaign claims and lies, they ended up leaving no bribe uncounted.

They say

Fisk says that Arabs are Semites, so they can’t be anti-Semitic.
Fisk says that they can’t be terrorists because they’re resisting occupation.
By killing women.
By killing children.
By killing the elderly.
So, I call them Jew Haters.
I call them bloodthirsty barbarians.
I call them murderers.
I call them genocidal maniacs.
I call them animal predators.
I call them brainwashed deathcultists.
Then Fisk calls me a hater.
Do I hate the people who want to kill me?
Who teach their children to hate and want to kill me?
Come close, Fisk. Closer.
And let me spit in your face.

Weekly Challenge #758 – PICK TWO: piano, mongoose, tower, cartoon, evil, serve



The faint sound of a piano reminded her that she had to change…
From her tower of self-righteousness, she knew everything better than anyone. But she felt hopeless. She couldn’t reach out. Pack up your past and put it away now, she thought. This is not what you want. You want to be happy. But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. It was far too late. She had to put up that front. She knew better, she was smarter, she just was.
The faint sound of a piano made her cry. She was so lonely and it was everyone else’s fault.



Morty, the cartoon mongoose, was not my greatest creation. Kids just couldn’t relate to him, and many of them struggled to identify just what species of animal he actually was.

Some thought he was a meerkat, others a ferret, whilst a bunch of them turned to the internet for a school project and would serve up mongoose facts totally discrediting his animated antics.

Kids – they’re just plain evil.

Morty’s career was cut short by the network, so I finished him off in his final episode by dropping a grand piano on him from a tower block!

That’s all folks!


I love cartoons!

I think it’s fantastic the way they can get away with extreme violence, and portray the most evil antics, yet call it children’s entertainment, and although I’m not exactly a child any more, I spend a lot of my leisure time glued to the television, enjoying the crazy cartoon scenes unfolding in front of me.

They’re a great source of inspiration, and I’ve filled a number of notebooks with details of the stunts I’ve observed.

Eventually, I plan to try them all on those unfortunate enough to fall into my clutches.

And, maybe, I’ll film it too!


A towering success

Do have any idea the worth of an old upright piano? Not talking a baby grand or grand grand. Further not talking a lovely care for family heirloom. Just an old out of toon piece of word and brass. Yup you can pick them up for a song (forgive the metaphor). I got about 20. So what am I going to do with them? I’m building a piano tower. Hope to get into Guinness world record. There’s a guy in Albania who got an 18. To keep stability I’m bolting on old typewriters. Underwoods are a dime a dozens.


“Wiener Dog Man,” one of the men in sunglasses scoffed. “That makes me think of a cartoon hero with a cape trying to serve the community by fighting evil.”
Dergle nodded. “Okay. That’s not far off.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Vander Hoont,” Billbert said. “What exactly are the powers of the wiener dog?”
Dergle stood up straight. “Dedication, tenacity, and confidence, among others.”
The agent sniffed. “Those sound like characteristics, not super powers.”
Dergle shrugged. “Call them what you want. I’m confident that I will not let you take this boy with you. I will defend him tenaciously and with dedication.”


Evil, tower
The evil wizard Shoonlak built an Obsidian Tower in which were embedded the still-living bones of his enemies.

The good wizard Angloin built a Crystal Tower, whose shining summit was a beacon of hope.

The mad wizard Leri built a Tower of his madness, that none but he can see, but those who pass near are seized by visions that carry them away in their talons.

The iron wizard Elon built a Steel Tower, which some say is a great rocket engine, and which, when it takes off, will incinerate the other Towers. For what is mere magic, against Science?


Dream Home

All his life Larry said his home must have three things … A tower, fireman’s pole, and a gargoyle. To his neighbor’s dismay the zoning commission reluctantly approved his request, and the gothic monstrosity was completed.

AC, fireplace, full bar, observation deck.

Decorative motif … Torture chamber.

Chains and shackles embedded in the walls, creepy old surgical tools framed and hung as art, branding irons lay on each side of the fireplace.

The bar was a fully functional rack.

Larry was well pleased, but knew, his dream was yet unfulfilled … until he had a victim chained to the wall … screaming for mercy.


The old man in the tower likes to play his piano at night.
The music carries all throughout the village.
“I do it as a service,” says the old man.
The villagers disagree.
“He’s not very good a piano player,” they say. “And it’s hard to sleep through it.”
They gather pitchforks and torches and storm the tower.
And they burn the piano.
The old man grumbles, hires some workers, and the next night, he’s on the ramparts playing the bagpipes.
And there’s a new moat around the tower. With crocodiles in it.
He smiles, and plays the bagpipes louder.

The good twins

Willy and Billy were identical twins, born to a nice Catholic couple.
They were raised in the church, baptized and taught all they needed to know.
They were good kids, and Willy and Billy never had anything to confess.
They didn’t even pretend to be the other twin to fool people.
“This is just too good to be true,” said Father Williams.
So, he tried to get them to snitch on each other.
But they had nothing to say.
“I guess they’re perfect then,” said Father Williams.
He tossed a coin to determine which to sacrifice for the Dark Mass.