At paranoia's poison door.
639158
How many shots of tequila did I drink?
Five?
Six?
I can’t remember.
But what I do know is that I feel the worst I’ve ever felt.
I always remember how bad I feel.
So what I will do is wait until I feel better, then I will do five shots of tequila.
When I wake up hung over, I can then compare how bad I feel then to how bad I feel now.
If it’s the same, then I know I had five shots of tequila.
If it’s not, then I know I had six.
Pass me the bottle.
639161
Every prospective assassin is given a run through the simulation to determine if they’d fit into the agency.
They are handed a note that says “Go to the Foster Building and kill Wilson. Do not check in until you have killed Wilson.”
There are three people in the Foster Building with the last name Wilson, two with Wilson as a first name.
If the assassin does some basic research, they’ll figure out which is the right Wilson to kill and pass the test.
Those that kill all five fail the test.
And blowing the building up is a huge no-no.
639135
I have a giant Schnauzer.
That’s giant with a small G. Not a big G.
He’s not a Giant Schnauzer breed. He’s a giant Schnauzer.
One hundred feet tall.
He’s still growing, too. He’s been growing ever since I got him as a puppy.
What do I feed him? Just the usual dog food.
Lots of it. The manufacturer gives me the stuff for free.
They get to put my Schnauzer on the bag and in the commercials.
He doesn’t know any tricks. Or know his name.
So I gave up, and I just call him Schnauzer.
My giant Schnauzer.
639166
I couldn’t stand to see the carnival rust in the junkyard, so I bought it.
How you fit all that into a two bedroom apartment in Manhattan, well, that’s my secret.
Kids line up at my door, and I sell tickets to the rides, the midway games, and the various tent acts.
At first, the Condo Association protested, but now they’re all in the show: the fat lady in 5H, the super’s a sword swallower, and 16A tells fortunes.
It’s a good crowd tonight.
I adjust my nose, check my floppy shoes, and lead the clowns into the center ring.
639161
Hey, be careful when you go inside.
It’s dark in the house.
The power was cut off a week ago.
Sure, we pay our bills, but the electric company has yet to fix the fucking lines.
Beavers chewed down the poles. Then they dragged them off to the river to build a dam.
It’s a big river. They needed a lot of wood.
Power poles, telephone poles – the beavers took it all, leaving us in the dark and without phones.
Nice and quiet now. So we go down to the river in the evening and watch the beavers build.
639169
At a fast food Mexican shithole, well past midnight, I’m looking up and down the menu.
Breakfast tacos. It’s what I always get-
WAIT!
What the fuck is a Sexy Burrito Of War?
I ask the guy behind the counter, and I can see his knuckles go white as he grips the register.
“You want the Sexy Burrito Of War? Seriously?”
No, I just want to know what the fuck it is.
Maybe I’ll want it if it sounds good. Maybe not.
I have to sign a release form. Run on a treadmill.
Maybe I’ll just have some breakfast tacos.
639170
Things are always getting worse for me and Joey.
Joey lost his job. My hours are getting cut back. The apartment’s a wreck.
Nothing ever works out for either of us.
Joey’s always saying we gotta stick it to The Man.
But Joey never says how we’re supposed to stick it to The Man.
What glue sticks it to The Man?
Do we use staples and thumbtacks?
And what exactly is “it” we’re supposed to stick?
Joey says I’m too literal.
I say Joey needs to provide concrete examples.
He shrugs.
Is this how The Man sticks it to us?
639161
I knew this girl. Her name is April.
But she was born in May.
Her full name was April White.
Except, she was black.
Her whole life was a bunch of opposites, one after the other.
Some folks could handle them and others couldn’t.
I thought I could, but each time I thought I knew her, she turned out to be someone completely different.
So, when we were supposed to be coming closer together, we ended up drifting apart.
Until one day, she was gone.
Or was I gone, and she was where she’d been all along?
I’m so confused.
639168
Joe has been blind since birth, but he keeps photos in his wallet.
We ask him who they are of.
His wife. His daughter. His parents.
He opens up the wallet to show us.
All three are beautiful, almost-perfect.
They are the photos that came with the wallet.
We know they are fakes, but does he know they’re fakes?
And does he know that we know they are fakes?
We play along.
Or is he playing along with us?
Does he really have a kid? Is he really married?
He’s got the ring, but then… the photos.
What’s the truth?
639160
Something strange happened last night.
All of the labels on the cans in the pantry vanished.
I don’t know how or why. It just happened.
Now, I have no idea what’s in these cans.
Well, okay, maybe the tomato paste is easy to identify. They’re small and thin.
Soup cans are all the same. I never buy soup that I don’t like, so I can just grab any can shaped like that.
The rest are canned fruit. I should eat more of that.
Every can I will open will be a new mystery solved.
This is going to be fun.