Cats are funny creatures.
They get into everything.
Drawers, cabinets, suitcases, and boxes.
Man, do they love boxes.
Try it. Put out a box.
It’s an instinct for them, finding a safe space to hide in to sleep.
So, you shouldn’t be surprised during the holidays when you put out a manger scene and, five minutes later, a cat has taken over the tiny barn.
Or gotten into the manger.
They look so cute in there.
It’s not so cute when your cat displaces Jesus in Crucifixion scenes.
That kind of thing will get you arrested, you sick fuck.
(Some of you may have noticed that I make a lot more mistakes than usual… I’ll try to be more careful and take my time, but it’s… well… it’s complicated, eh.)
I am a good mother. I always bought good food for you. There was that time when you went to the store to buy bread, and when you came back you said no more. But why? And you said there was a tavern next door and the men looked at you funny… And I said what a wimp, that’s life, you need to get used to it. You were 12 and you had to toughen up. I’m a good mother. I taught you stuff you needed to survive. But now we don’t talk. And it’s all your fault… your fault.
The Old General Store
The old general store was a wonderful place. Run by Jake and Bessie Abbot, it was a real family business, a magical place, filled with wonders.
As a kid I used to wander round, seeing what treasures were hidden away in boxes, stashed on its many shelves and in dusty corners.
Whatever you wanted, they had had it.
Jake and Bessie passed away, the store was torn down and out of town developers bought the land.
Now, the old general store has been replaced with a massive Walmart.
It’s not a wonderful place, but whatever you want, they have it!
I put her in the cold store, it seemed the thing to do
Hung her from a meat hook; she was turning blue
Soon her struggles ended, I left her there some more
You cannot be too careful, and I wanted to be sure
I waited overnight, and then I took her down
Chopped her into pieces, the white meat and the brown
I packed her into boxes, and sent her in the post
To all her friends and family: The ones who loved her most
As for the leftovers, they were all for me
I had them
What Could GO Possible Wrong 017
Park took store of the current situation backtracking to the moment Don Ford had sent him in motion. It felt as if weeks had passed. How did it all get so wacky? Who was that guy with the Don? Where was either of them? “He’s coming around said the bar keep, taking an advised steep or two away from the cuffs man. The man blinked, pulled at his arm. “You’re making a very dangerous move Sunny Jim,” snarled the man. Ford moved the duck pint glass towards him. “We’ll see.” And then they most assuredly did, the Liquid blue appeared.
After the end of his last class, Sabrina followed Billbert out of the school.
Billbert scowled over his shoulder at the girl behind him. “Are you following me?”
She shook her head angrily. “If you would slow down, I could walk with you, and not just follow you. I need to get something from the store before we go to the ceremony tonight.”
Billbert stopped in his tracks. “Tonight? You expect me to be a part of your ceremony, just like that?”
Sabrina smiled. “No. Not just like that. I told you. I need to get something from the store.”
Hamilton’s store had been in the neighborhood for years.
Until his phone told him that there was an alarm at his store.
He turned on the news, and he saw his store burning.
Watching the security camera company’s recordings in the cloud.
Recognizing his employees among the looters.
One of them had a can of gasoline.
He called a staff meeting at the burned-out store.
And when they showed up, he handed each an envelope.
Filled with Monopoly money.
The cops arrested the employees, insurance paid his claims.
And Hamilton moved away.
The building is still an abandoned burned-out shell.
Everybody loves cupcakes.
They’re fun and easy to eat.
So many different kinds of cupcakes out there.
With innovators coming up with more every day.
But what if they’re fruitcake cupcakes?
Frosting on the top. Maybe sprinkles.
Fancy parchment paper cups.
But when you peel back that parchment paper, um, what is this?
What’s with the colors?
Red and green? Happy holidays!
And you try to take a bite, but they’re so thick and sticky and…
Oh my God.
It’s fruitcake cupcakes!
And you throw them out, just like fruitcake.
And Santa adds you to his naughty list.
When Santa hires an elf, he sends them to Elf University.
There, they learn everything they need to know to work at Santa’s Workshop: making toys, loading them into the sleigh, maintaining the sleigh, and managing the reindeer.
The younger elves do the manual labor, while the experienced ones go into design or management.
And when they can’t do any job anymore, they’re sent to the university to teach.
Santa used an internship and apprenticeship program before, but too many elves got hurt and killed that way.
It’s much safer to put them on the simulators.
Less damage that way.
Despite the world’s population exploding, Santa had to do with the same number of elves and reindeer.
They had to start work earlier and earlier in the year, and work longer hours.
And the earlier they started, the more changes to wish lists there were.
The kids themselves moved around the lists from nice to naughty and back again.
Not to mention the fakes and scammers and scalpers.
Santa tried to computerize it all, but it’s hard powering workstations and a datacenter that far North.
He broke down, ended up in a Norwegian asylum, and sits staring at the trees.
John the Baptist needed a Christ.
He’d announced that the messiah would be arriving soon to lead the Jews out from under Roman rule.
So, when he saw Jesus, he figured the stoneworker for a good enough messiah.
“Come join me in this lake for a minute,” said John.
“Okay, that’s a bit weird,” said Jesus.
But he did it anyway, and had a vision.
“Shit, dude, you okay?” said John, who had dragged Jesus to the shore and got the water out of his lungs. “Don’t sue me, okay?”
“All’s cool, bro,” said Jesus. “Wanna go wandering?”
They say that the three wise men followed a star to the place of Jesus’ birth.
But if they were so wise, why would they follow a star?
That doesn’t sound very wise to me.
The little drummer boy found Jesus, and he didn’t follow a star.
Jesus’ mother Mary was worried about the star.
“If the Romans follow the star, they’ll find us and kill us,” she said.
So they bundled everything up and fled the barn, setting it on fire to cover their tracks.
“Nobody born here,” said the wise men to the arriving soldiers. “Nope. Not here.”
I am a good mother. I fed you and took you to where you needed to go. I gave you books for school and I kept you clean. I was a busy bee till you became the annoying teenager you were. There was this time when you fell down the stairs and I did nothing, just watched. I hate interfering. I am a good mother. I put up with your friends till I managed to push them away from our house. They were too cheerful. Peace at last. But now we don’t talk. And it’s all your fault… your fault.
Old Tom’s honey was acclaimed for its quality, freshness and delicious flavour. Rumours abounded as to how he managed to achieve such consistent results, but nobody really knew how he did it.
So, I was recruited to infiltrate his farm, on the pretence of an apprenticeship, to learn his secrets at first hand, although I’ll confess, I’ve still no idea how he did it!
You see, Old Tom, could speak Bee!
He’d converse with them on the phone and they’d tell him the perfect time for harvesting.
So, I stole his phone.
And now I have my very own beeline!
They call me the Queen Bee, because I’ve modelled my dominion on the principle of the bee hive.
I sit at its centre, gorging myself on all that is good in life, whilst my lackeys and drones spend their lives attending to my every need.
They feed me, fan me and dance for me, and bring me the choicest gifts from far and wide.
There are those, of course, who will harbour jealousy.
But my soldiers are the best there are, and they will defend me against any assault.
Even though they know their death in combat is a certainty.
What Could GO Possible Wrong 016
Molly gave a glance at the Captain that spoke volumes. Ford noted a tiny motion in the captain’s hand, as he moved it from the pint glass towards his belt. Not good, thought Ford trying to untangle limbs to get a grip of his watch stem. It was time to get out of dodge, most likely with Molly in tow. In the middle of this slow-motion duel Molly dryly added the accelerant, “You’re the bee’s knees, deary” Now it was a race between the dagger and the watch. It would have been a tie but from the thickening liquid blue.
There’s a problem with bees dying off. Everything gets blamed: persistent insecticides, microplastics, endocrine disruptors, global warming, but no-one really knows why.
People say “be the change you want to see in the world”, but I think we’d should try genetic engineering, and change the bee we want to see in the world. But we’d have to choose the right strain to experiment on. We first need to see the bee we want to change in the world.
And we’d have to get the public on board. They have to see the change we want to be in the world.
“That’s very interesting,” Billbert said. “I’m not sure what jelly fish and cloud formations have to do with me coming here. I’m sure the next thing you’ll tell me is a honey bee buzzed in your ear that I’m supposed to rescue a princess in a tower somewhere.”
Sabrina rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly. There aren’t any captured princesses around here. What you need to do is accompany me to a secret rite of passage ceremony.”
Billbert swallowed. “A witch’s ceremony? What are the chances I’ll end up being turned into a frog?”
Sabrina frowned. “Not very high, really.”
Wendy was as busy as a bee, her parents said.
But she was as nasty as a wasp.
From dawn to dusk, beating up her classmates for lunch money and homework.
Quizzes and tests all done for her by others.
Collecting bows and ribbons in her hair from all her conquests.
Her shoes, dress, and jacket… all taken in combat.
She graduated top of her class, but in college, failed miserably.
Expelled for bullying.
She ended up marrying a series of weak, little men.
When she’s rude to the nursing home staff, they park her wheelchair out in the rain.
A mountain of letters arrived at the North Pole every day.
No matter how many elves he had go through the pile, it would just grow bigger and bigger.
Santa had a team of elves write a database.
And they scanned the letters into the database.
Were they good or bad?
Governments spied on their citizens all the time.
So did big tech companies.
The elves hacked into the those databases, cross-referencing and coming up with a score.
Automating manufacturing and shipping made the holidays a breeze.
Santa kept a skeleton crew to maintain the systems, and fired the rest.
Usually, kids ask Santa for a bicycle or video games or other things.
Sometimes, they ask for a new sister or brother.
But every now and then, one asks for their stepfather to stop beating them.
Santa hates these letters.
He’d call the cops to tip them off, but there’s no phone lines up at the North Pole.
So, when Santa does his dry run on December 24th, he brings a baseball bat and kneecaps these motherfuckers in their sleep.
Or drags them up to the sleigh, takes off, and throws them over the side on to the hard pavement.