Ever shot fish in a barrel?
It’s not as easy as you think.
Fish are small moving targets.
And you have to take into consideration the refractive properties of the water.
Light bends considerably depending on the angle you’re looking into the water.
Don’t believe me? Stick a straw in a glass at an angle and look at it.
That weird break in the angle is due to refraction.
So, go ahead. Try to shoot fish in a barrel.
You’re better off just pouring the barrel out, picking up the fish, and smacking them on the ground until they’re dead.
Tag: cliche
Gun Fight
Only a fool brings a knife to a gun fight.
But it takes a bigger fool to bring floppy clown shoes, a bright red wig, and a seltzer bottle.
I stood there, staring at the fool, with my gun pointed at his head.
“What is it about ‘gun fight’ you didn’t understand?” I asked.
“I thought you said ‘clown fight’ when you called,” said the fool. “I think I need to get my hearing checked. Or were you chewing gum while you were talking to me?”
I shook my head, put my gun away, and turned to-
He shot me.
Trust Me
“If you love me, you’ll trust me.”
Ever hear that one?
I hear it all the time.
She comes home with a bow and arrow, wanting to put an apple on my head to shoot off.
Or a wheel to strap me to as she throws knives at me.
Then there’s our savings account. Every weekend, she wants to take it to Vegas with dreams of not leaving it all there as we hitch a ride back home.
Today, she’s cooking dinner.
She sets out a plate and smiles.
I take one whiff and…
“So, where’s the bow and arrow?”
The Darkest Dark
I sat down, closed my eyes, and imagined the darkest dark.
There’s always light coming through your eyelids or the blankets you put over your head.
That’s when you have to step away from yourself, leave senses behind, going where no light will reach you.
My friend was puzzled by this, and asked “Why are you trying to imagine the dark?”
And she told me to see the brightest bright.
“Won’t that burn my eyes?” I asked.
I heard nothing, so I lifted the blankets, turned on the light, and she was gone.
She doesn’t need to imagine it anymore.
But With A Whimper
So, the world ended yesterday.
After years and years of people saying the end was near, when it finally came, it wasn’t really all so bad.
In fact, if people had known exactly how the world was going to end, I don’t think they’d have freaked out about it so much.
Especially the guys walking around in sandwichboards, waving signs and shouting THE END OF THE WORLD IS NIGH!
When the end came, I saw one of those guys just sitting there and smiling.
So, I joined him, and we watched the world end together.
And the new one begin.
Summertime
As you freeze your ass off in the dead of Winter, someone down in Australia is working on their tan in the peak of Summer.
The doctors look over your fingers to see how bad the frostbite damage is.
You’ll recover. Just get better gloves for the next time.
The Australian, however, won’t know about the spot on her back for months.
By then, it’ll be too late. The melanoma will have spread into her lungs and pancreas and…
It’s hard to dig a grave in winter.
What do you care? You’ll be on the beach, tanning.
Need some sunblock?
Imagination
I’ve been told that when you turn 100, The King of the World grants you a wish.
Every day, I imagined what he’d look like. He grew more magnificent each day, silken robes and a golden crown with shining gems.
Until, one day, he was there. At my hundredth birthday.
“Make a wish,” he said.
“To be young,” I replied.
He laughed. “You imagined me all your life. As youth is imagination, so then you are young.”
I blew out the candles on my cake, watching the smoke twist and curl into flying dragons and magnificent castles in the clouds.”
Macarena
Jose Menendez was known far and wide as The King of The Macarena.
He was constantly putting his hands on his hips, jumping, and turning from morning to night.
Then, one day, he was doing the dance up on a bar and slipped on some spilled peach Margarita mix, and hit his head on the floor, putting him into a coma.
His living will said to play his Macarena tape by his bedside. If he didn’t get up and dance, pull the plug.
So, we did. And he lay there still.
We pulled the plug… on that damn tape player.
Sleep Disorder
After a battery of tests, the doctor gives Jose the results: he suffers from somnambulism, walking around in his sleep.
Jose scratches his head. “How?”
And he pats the handles of his wheelchair. “I can’t walk.”
“Only when you’re awake,” says the doctor. “But when you’re asleep, you walk around.”
Jose remembered the car crash, the surgeries, and getting the bad news: “You’ll never walk again.”
He told them then that he’d prove them all wrong.
“I guess I have,” he mumbled.
“I’ve got good news,” said the doctor.
“What?”
“You’re also a narcoleptic, Jose. More time for walking, right.”
The Swear Jar
I swear too much.
I’ve tried everything, but my analyst came up with a great idea: a Swear Jar.
Every time I swear, I put a buck in the jar.
I picked out a really nice jar for it, too.
It’s an antique. Those guys on that television show said it was worth hundreds of dollars.
It was worth fifty more by the end of the week, but the next week, I only added twenty.
Then ten. Then five. Then…
I was cured!
That’s when I dropped the jar, spilling money and pottery shards everywhere.
Okay, fine… so I relapsed.