Nancy didn’t like other people, so she kept everyone at arm’s length.
When she was a baby, her arms were stubby, so she couldn’t keep people from tickling her toes or getting in her face and babbling baby-talk at her.
As she grew, her arms grew too, and she could keep people a bit further away.
But still not far enough.
So, she had a series of surgeries to lengthen her arms.
Eventually, her arms were freakishly long enough to scare people away.
She enjoyed the peace… until she tried to brush her teeth and stabbed herself in the head.
Tag: childhood
Specials
Back when all there was to watch was broadcast television, every series ran Christmas specials.
Even the ones that had no business running them, like shows in space or prehistoric times.
There was a Christmas special for Star Wars, despite being long ago and in a galaxy far away.
And it was horrible. The Star Wars special… all of them.
These days, people watch cable television or Netflix and Hulu and Amazon.
You don’t have to watch any of that crap.
Although, if you really wanted to, you could read a book or spend time with family.
Nah. What’s on?
No such thing
There is no such thing as Santa.
Well, not anymore.
The real Santa died centuries ago.
Ever since then, a series of impostors took his place, dressing up and playing the part.
Some did it well. Others did it just for the thrill. Or to escape justice.
The elves covered for the bad ones. They pretty much run the show, these days.
Santa’s a symbol. A figurehead. A patsy.
It’s the elves you need to keep a watch for.
Santa, you see everywhere.
“Helpers” you see too.
But true elves?
Never. Nobody sees them.
And lives to talk about it.
It’s A Wonderful Ending
After the party ended and everyone left, Mary put the kids to bed.
George Bailey counted the money again.
It was more than enough to cover the savings and loan.
Perfect.
“I’ll take care of that,” said Uncle Billy, scooping the stacks of money into a basket.
“Fuck no, you goddamned stupid drunk!” shouted George. “You’ve fucked this family for the last time!”
George took Billy’s keys away. “You’re fired!”
Then, he had Bert the cop drive him into town so he could put the money in the safe.
“Merry Christmas, savings and loan,” he mumbled. “Take me home, Bert.”
Cereal Gift
You can buy Lucky Charms marshmallows by the bag from some online store.
So, I gave these to my son as a Christmas gift.
I put a note on the bag “Santa had the elves pick these out of 20 cereal boxes. Then he gave the crappy cereal to an orphanage full of bad children.”
My son then proceeded to act like a dickhead to his little sister.
That’s when the bag of marshmallow bits vanished, and another note appeared:
“Santa gave your address to the kids in the orphanage. And baseball bats.”
He’s hiding in the basement, behaving himself.
What kind of world?
“What kind of world are we leaving to our children and grandchildren?” shouted the Green Party protestor.
I followed him home after the protest.
He lives in his mother’s basement.
If you’re going to get them to succeed, you’ve got to kick them out of the nest.
Which applies to space travel.
Humanity will never reach for the stars as long as it can play its XBoxes and Playstations in its mother’s basement.
If we ruin this planet faster, humanity has no choice but to reach for the stars.
Forget saving the nest, kid. Spread your wings and fly free.
Hero
Billy.
Joe.
Wes.
And Me.
Lost in the woods together.
Dumb.
Our phones couldn’t get signal. Even with GPS, there was no data stream for downloading maps.
My idea. Dumb.
Joe got out the straws. The one who drew the short straw would go for help.
When I drew the short straw, I wrote down the GPS coordinates on my arm with a pen, picked up my pack, and began my walk.
I found the road in an hour. Rangers found the others with my coordinates.
They called me a hero.
But I was the one who got us lost.
Batman
Mom got me a Batman costume for Halloween.
“I’m Batman!”
I turned my bike into the Batmobile.
Then, I turned the basement into the Batcave.
You know. So I can fight crime.
I was on my Batcomputer when Mom told me to come upstairs for dinner.
“I’m Batman!” I growled.
“Does Batman want a hamburger or doesn’t he?” she asked.
I threw my cape in front of my face, dropped a smoke bomb, and grabbed a hamburger on my way out the door.
As I got on my bike, I growled another “I’m Batman!” and pedaled off to the Library.
King Size
Why is a king-sized candy bar that size?
No, it’s not because there was a king who liked candy that size.
It was because there was a king who was that size.
Well, a king who had a penis that size.
Which king? None other than the Reverend Martin Luther King, Junior himself.
You know how the King Family earns royalties on his speeches? Well, they do the same with king-sized candy.
That’s why you don’t see much candy in that size.
It’s all fun-size and junior-size.
What?
No, junior’s not named for him either.
His penis was huge, man.
Greater Than Less Than
Some people learned that the greater than symbol is an alligator that eats the bigger number.
Other people learned that the less than symbol is an arrow that points at the smaller number.
My second grade Math teacher, Mr. Henson, taught us both.
“It’s up to you to decide,” he said.
The next day, when we arrived at school, there was a bloody trail leading into Mr. Henson’s room.
The room was a ghastly horror.
Last night, an alligator had broken into the school, and when Mr. Henson arrived, the beast attacked and ate him.
We all pointed and screamed.