Every year, we set up a tent in the middle of the city.
The smell of freshly-roasted turkey, baked stuffing, and sweet potatoes fills the air.
This brings out the homeless, lonely, and poor in droves.
We invite them in and they sit down.
We make them wait for a while.
When they’re good and hungry, we ask them to bow their heads and then we feed them…
Into massive circus cannons.
We launch them everywhere… into the river, out into the dump.
Pretty much anywhere but here.
Good riddance.
Then, we sit down and eat our own Thanksgiving meal.
Tag: cliche
The Angry Birds
I use my iPhone to play Words With Friends, but all my friends have given up on this Scrabble variant for a game called Angry Birds.
Apparently, these birds are angry because a bunch of evil pigs have stolen their eggs, so they attack various structures built by the pigs trying to kill them and take all the eggs back.
I loaded the game and tried to negotiate a settlement between the birds and the pigs.
And then I killed them all.
I smiled, had a huge plate of bacon and eggs for breakfast, and sat on a feather-filled pillow.
Poetry In Motion
After watching girls roll around the track and beat the crap out of each other in what was billed as “Poetry In Motion”, we walked out of the roller derby and put together our own sport:
Rollerpoetry.
Instead of helmets and pads, we handed out berets and copies of Allen Ginsberg’s book “Howl.”
Poets would circle the track, sharing the verse in ways that teachers and Kindles couldn’t.
Opening night, the crowds gathered around the track and booed the circling poets.
One bumped into another. They started throwing punches.
My friends, there’s no avoiding the truth: Culture truly is dead.
Medical
It used to be that being a werewolf was a death sentence.
But thanks to modern medicine and sturdy cages, a werewolf can expect to live out as close-to-normal life as expected.
Insurance companies can no longer jack up premiums or dump these afflicted patients as “suffering from a pre-existing condition” or as an “act of God.” Thank you, President Obama!
And employers cannot discriminate against them as long as they don’t pose a danger to their coworkers. Clever and careful scheduling resolves any potential, deadly, and costly conflicts.
(Especially with the vampires we hired to supervise the night shift.)
The Predator
The predator lay in a growing pool of his own blood, flowing over the photos and newspaper clippings he’d taken to remember his crimes.
I’d shot him in the hands, the feet, the legs, the arms.
He begged for mercy as I reloaded my gun.
I ignored his pleas and the growing sound of sirens.
He then found some courage. “Who are you to judge me?” he growled, “You have blood on your hands too.”
And, so I did.
“But it’s your blood,” I said. “Hardly innocent.”
And then I shot him in the chest, again and again.
Click. Click.
The Hate Of Cake
I take the cake out to the grocery store parking lot, remove the lid, and start punching it.
Frosting splatters all over the ground and my clothes as my fists pummel the cake into a mushy pulp.
Then, I lick my fists and go back into the grocery store.
“I’d like another cake,” I say.
“You’ve bought four today,” says the manager. “And you’re covered with cake. What are you doing with them?”
“Punching them,” I say. “It’s cathartic.”
The manager looks around, sees his employees goofing off, and picks up 2 cakes.
“Mind if I join you?” he says.
Eight and Ten
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Everything in Mathematics is pretty much known these days. It takes five hundred pages packed with formulas to come up with something unknown.
And those panel discussions are really boring.
So, I came up with a simple and fun one: “Why are hot dogs sold in packages of ten and hot dog buns sold in packages of eight?”
Wow. You should have seen the fistfights.
Then, Weird Al Yankovic, yeah, the musician, steps in and says “I just give the extra 2 hot dogs to my dog.”
He won the Nobel Prize for that.
(And gave it to his dog.)
Pascal’s Wager
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You need a little history lesson, Sonny.
Blaise Pascal said that even though one could not prove God’s existence through reason, one should bet on God’s existence because you have Eternity to gain if you’re right and nothing to lose if you’re wrong.
To bet on Him not existing means you can earn Damnation or Nothingness.
Which would you choose?
Anyway, lifelong afflictions suggested he hadn’t long to live, but making bizarre wagers based on God’s existence actually caused his early demise.
The Organization wasn’t as tolerant then as it is now.
We just break your legs.
Now pay up!
The Big Guns
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Whenever he’s cornered in an argument, Louis always threatens to get out “The Big Guns.”
I’m not sure what he’s got up his sleeve, but then it’s Louis, and he’s a little crazy. There’s no telling what he’s capable of when backed into a corner.
So, we just let Louis off the hook and shake hands and go have a beer together.
No sense in pushing the guy on it. It’s just not worth it.
Sure, I’d love to see these big guns Louis talks about. I collect guns and have an appreciate for fine weapons.
Maybe I’ll buy them.
Hard news to swallow
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The ringmaster took Luigi to his office.
“Sword-swallowing isn’t exciting,” he said. “You can’t see the action. It’s hidden inside.”
Luigi tried to argue, but failed.
“Report to Bobo.”
Luigi sighed and left for the clown tent.
Two hours later, he saw himself in the mirror, covered in bright, garish makeup.
“Not bad,” said Bobo putting a hand on Luigi’s shoulder. “Look, I know this is humiliating. We’ll work your swords into the act somehow.”
Luigi nodded.
“C’mon. Dinnertime. Let’s fill your stomach with food for once.”
That night, Luigi stabbed himself.
He could swallow swords, but not his pride.