A madman killed John Lennon.
Another tried to kill Ronald Reagan.
And then another attacked an actress and killed her.
They all had my book.
They all said to understand what they did, read the book.
What I put in there.
It was the truth about the phonies.
Not the evil these people did.
Their evil. They murdered. Murdered.
Not me. They.
That is the truth.
No, I have not stopped writing.
I cannot stop writing.
Writing the truth.
But I can stop publishing.
Because phonies will read my writing if I don’t.
And they will murder. They will kill.
Tag: cliche
The horse and the men
For centuries, The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse owned just one horse.
This arrangement worked out great for when there was just War or Death doing on, but sometimes there were two or three of them on that horse.
Or, when things were particularly bad, all four.
Not only was the load unbearable, but as civilization spread and got more complicated, they had a lot more ground to cover.
The lone horse didn’t particularly like that arrangement, so the gang got three more horses.
Nowadays, they each have several horses. And they’ve hired a full-time vet, trainer, and stable manager.
Harpoons
The airlines have loosened their restrictions on what you can carry onboard, but you still need to check weapons
Yes, this includes harpoons.
Not that you can do much with a harpoon. You’ll need a clear aisle for a good harpooning, but killer whales usually strike during feeding sessions. Which is when flight attendants are out with the beverage cart, blocking your throw.
Sitting next to a rampaging killer whale? You’re probably getting crushed against the window.
God forbid you’re trapped in the middle seat between two of them. Whatever happened to the airlines making oversized passengers buy two tickets?
A tale of two guys
It was the best of tricks, it was the worst of tricks.
Sidney Carton could pass for Charles Darnay, and the others thought he was going to trade places with the doomed Frenchman.
Lucie would get her husband back, while Sidney would lose his head.
“Am I really going to do this?” he asked himself, facing the moment of truth.
“Hell no,” was his answer, but he said it in French with his impression of Darnay’s voice.
Then he had himself smuggled out of the prison as Darnay.
Lucie wasn’t fooled one bit. But she grew to love him anyway.
Starring: You
If you like offbeat theater, then Ambrose Phillip Glossky’s “The Funeral” at The Don Travis Orpheum on Main Street is the show for you.
It’s a one man show, starring you. In a casket. The audience is the cast, coming to your funeral.
Don’t get up for a bathroom break, though. The cast might shout ZOMBIE! and shoot you in the face with a shotgun.
It’s the hottest ticket in town. Literally. The ticket is made of Tungsten, and the blacksmith in the box office super-heats it to a mind-boggling two thousand degrees.
On second thought, let’s go see Wicked.
Worse Than Hell
Sally and Bob had hit a rough patch.
Sally told Bob to go to Hell.
Bob told Sally that being with her was worse than Hell.
Which was true.
Sally’s parents were pitchfork-carrying demons. And instead of a lawn, the house was in the middle of a lake of fire.
You could say that the air was filled with the wails of the damned, but it was just a Justin Bieber album that got stuck in the player.
But you don’t tell a chick that being with her is worse than Hell.
She killed him.
And he went somewhere better.
Play With Fire
Other kids played with action figures and board games.
I played with fire.
Fire was fun and cheap. And it was so much more fun than action figures and board games.
And it was great for ending arguments.
Paper beats rock, rock beats scissors, scissors beat paper, and fire beats them all.
Water beats fire?
No! Fire boils water and turns it to steam. Fire beats water.
I’ve heard people say that children shouldn’t play with fire, but fire has no warning labels on it.
That must mean that fire is safe for all ages, right?
Here’s some fire… enjoy!
Half Day
My secretary Mary is talking a half-day today.
“Are you taking the morning off or the afternoon off?” I ask her.
She laughs. “I’m taking the even minutes off.”
I ask her what the hell that means.
She puts her hand in my face “I’m off the clock.”
“Off the clock?”
She doesn’t respond… so, I wait.
Eventually, she gets back to typing.
“Odd minute. I’m back to work.”
And she types for a minute… then stops.
I gather up some cardboard boxes and put them by her desk.
“Now you’ve got the whole day off,” I say. “You’re fired.”
Shows Stopper
Other than baseball and a zombie show on Sundays, I rarely watch television. Instead, I listen to podcasts, and I hear things that spark my imagination.
My wife wanted to check out Netflix, so I signed us up.
That’s when I saw all the Dr. Who episodes. And Torchwood. And Blackadder. And Red Dwarf. And…
Well, my podcast queue it getting clogged up. And I don’t get inspired to write as many stories as I used to.
But you know what?
Screw it. They’ve got all of that Futurama show, too.
Good news, everyone… it’s time for some more television!
Camus and Sisyphus
Sisyphus groaned as he leaned into the boulder.
The stone bit into his scarred flesh, blood welling from ancient wounds.
Just when he thought he couldn’t push any more, the boulder finally began to move uphill.
Every inch of motion was agony to Sisyphus’s soul, but he could not stop.
The Gods had stripped him of reason and logic, leaving him with just compulsion and suffering.
When he got to the top, Albert Camus slapped him on the back.
“Well done!” he said, and he pushed the boulder back down the hill.
Sisyphus screamed and chased it.
Camus laughed, jealously.