Tag: society

Forgive me, father, for I have provided adequate signage…

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A drowned monk was found on the riverbank, a mile downstream from the bridge under repair.
A few orange cones were found in the water, too. Blown away by high winds.
The foreman pointed to the sign in the middle of the road that said BRIDGE OUT and sighed. “Reflective lettering. Visible from two hundred feet.”
The monastery sent a representative to claim the body.
When told about how his fellow priest died, the man wrote: “Father Rowan was blind.”
The foreman took off his hardhat, growled, and went up to the sign. “It’s also in Braille at the bottom.”

Idiot Tax

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The Idiot Tax collector stumbles from door to door, shaking his burlap sack and shouting at the top of his lungs.
Four in the morning. He always comes at four.
I watch a door open and a broken toaster fly out.
He catches it, grunts, and shambles off to the next house.
It’s against the law to kill an Idiot Tax collector. Even by accident.
My rusty butcher’s knife is in his chest.
“I tried to hand it to him,” I say. “Honest.”
I cry. I whine. I babble incoherently.
I, the new Idiot, pick up the sack and howl.

The Zoo

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I love going to the zoo.
You can get so much information about the animals on the signs while walking through nearly-natural habitats.
I see from here that the giraffe is from Africa, has a very long tongue, and is worth four Weight Watchers points.
“What wine goes with giraffe?” I ask the zookeeper.
He calls up the sommelier on his walkie-talkie. “A fruity red,” he says. “We have those in the gift shop.”
“Fine,” I say. “Open one now, put another on ice, and I’ll take the giraffe on the left.”
The zookeeper smiles, nods, and loads his rifle.

The Belt of St. Judas

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A simple, ancient belt of rope cinched around a tattered burlap robe, a bag of old coins in a purse.
The Abbot of Saint Judas bears these relics.
Without Papal sanction, the mission continues in secret. Every night, the faithful gather, and he returns to the hovel in the shadow of The Basilica to preach:
“Jesus asked to be betrayed. He was forgiven. Judas’ only sin was to martyr himself.”
The old monk closes the book as the soldiers rush into the abbey.
Arrests are made, the veneration of a false saint.
The abbot shakes the purse. A lucrative trap.

Father and Son

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Dan taught his son how to ride a bike, how to shave, how to tie a tie, and all the little things that fathers teach sons.
Many years later, after the stroke, Dan’s son taught him to speak, how to shave, and how to tie a tie again.
But instead of teaching him how to ride a bike, he went ahead and tried to teach his dad how to drive again.
Big mistake.
As Dan was loaded into the ambulance, he watched another father teach his young boy how to tie a tourniquet.
They grow up so fast. He smiled.

The Candy Prince

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The Candy Price sits on his chocolate bunny, watching the troops walk past.
His lemondrop eyes glisten in admiration of his army.
“March, my men!” he cheers, and the army raises a shout.
A gumdrop button falls from his Marzipan coat. He has been outside for too long today.
He returns to his palace, inspecting his frosting hair in the mirror.
“I am coming apart!” he cries to his butler. “Help me!”
He tries to change suits, but feels something snap.
The chef-surgeon arrives, but shakes his head.
“So, how do you feel about being The Candy Princess?” he offers.

The Garage

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Hewlett-Packard was founded in a garage. So was Apple.
Famous Amos started in his kitchen.
Me, I start businesses all over this house.
The bank began in the bathroom, consulting firms in the crawl space, and my shed led to the creation of a quarter of the Fortune 500.
If you look in the dishwasher, you’ll see some venture capitalists checking the industry broadsheets, looking for good investments.
It’s getting harder to find good talent, so I’m founding a business school in my pants.
Care to check out my generous endowment?
Um… try again, stupid. It’s in my back pocket.

Burn the trees

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We need more farmland, so we must clear more trees.
The warriors tried to burn the trees down, but once we lit them on fire, they continued burning for weeks.
The fire rages in their branches without consuming them.
Instead of clearing the forest of all trees, we cleared the forest of all the inhabitants.
The flames scared away all the creatures with any sense to fear fire, and those that didn’t, they burned.
We watched the forest burn from our huts on the hills, and knowing that the planting season would pass us by, we prepared our fishing nets.

Obsidian Falls

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Obsidian Falls is really in Oklahoma, but through a surveyor’s error and a history of stubborn city councilors, they remained a Kansas municipality.
Mapmakers never could find a solution that satisfied the residents. Usually, they’d mark the region as Oklahoma, include Obsidian Falls on Oklahoma maps, and ignore the protests and death threats.
So, Obsidian Falls moved.
Every brick, every tree, every sidewalk and every fence.
It took over a year to complete, block by block vanishing and reappearing 3 miles North.
The surveyor didn’t have the heart to tell them they were still 2 miles short of their goal.

The Future

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Even though security is almost completely done by biometrics, we still call it “handing over the keys” when you buy a car.
The dealer syncs your vehicle’s scanner with your retinal pattern, thumb print, voice print, and everything else that identifies your biological uniqueness.
No keys at all. The strip of metal with the logo on the keychain is just symbolic.
We also still call them cars, even though they’re not much more than automated floating bubbles these days.
I step into the bubble, wave my hand, and I’m off.
Yes, we still call it driving when it’s really riding.