Tag: mystery

Six Iron

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“What the hell’s that racket?” growls the boss.
It’s not a racket, I say. Joe’s been beating the copier with a five iron.
The boss tells me to make Joe stop, so I head for the copier room.
Joe”s got a five iron in his hands, and he”s beating the copier.
Pieces are flying all over the room, but the jam has yet to clear.
I sigh. This is not what it says in the owner’s manual.
The owner’s manual calls for a six iron.
I try to tell Joe this, but his caddy keeps me out of the drive-line.

The Box

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I open my eyes. It’s dark.
I close my eyes. It’s dark.
I blink them a few times.
No difference. It’s dark.
All I remember is standing here in the dark.
Nothing before that.
I feel my head.
It feels wet… sticky…
Is that blood?
I stick a finger in my mouth and taste the wetness.
It’s blood. My head is bloody.
And I can”t remember anything but being here.
I reach ahead… a wall. A wall to my left side… my right side… I turn around… one’s there too.
I reach up. A roof.
And it’s wet and sticky

Wakeup Stories

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Most parents tell their kids bedtime stories, but Joe, he told his kids wakeup stories.
Happened every morning. First, they’d get themselves a good night’s sleep. Then, when the sun came up, they’d open their eyes, and they’d see their dad, sitting on the side of the bed and watching them.
“What story do you want to hear?” he’d ask, giggling like a maniac.
The kids tried setting their alarm clocks earlier, but Joe was right there, ready for them.
Pretty soon, the kids stopped sleeping at all.
So, you don’t like my bedtime stories, Susie?
Ohhhhhhh… okay.
Thought so.

Envelopes

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Ted says that you can use your underwear twice by turning it inside out.
“That’s good to know, Ted,” I say.
What’s weird is that he does the same thing with envelopes.
I didn’t know that you could do that with envelopes, turning them inside out and addressing them again, but Ted can do it. He’s really good with folding paper.
Now, this only works with plain white envelopes, mind you. If you do this with a packing envelope, you can’t write on the packing material they glue to the inside of it.
Or, I mean, outside.
Just ask Ted.

The Crabs

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I was walking along the beach when a swarm of crabs came out of the ocean and began walking in unusual geometric formations before my very eyes.
Then, they stacked up in a pyramid, building up until the crab at the tippy top got in position, waving its claws around.
After gracefully disassembling the pyramid, they slowly walked back into the ocean.
Last night, it was turtles.
The night before, it was lobsters.
Do you think the ocean is trying to tell us something?
Probably, but I sure do like the gymnastics routines.
I wonder what will do them tomorrow.

Every Five Minutes

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Every five minutes, the strange man in the top hat pulls a lit candle out of his coat, bends over, and places it on the ground.
He stands back up, and then waits.
For five minutes.
Then, he does it all over again.
Where he’s getting these candles, I have no idea.
But he’s been doing it for a while. There’s at least a mile of candles along the Interstate.
Strange thing – it’s windy out, but the candles stay lit.
Nobody’s stopping, either. They’re just driving by, completely ignoring the weird scene on the side of the road.
Their loss.

Making Ice

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You know that old Polish joke about losing the recipe for ice?
Well, that joke has my friend George Koslowski written all over it.
Most folks, when they stick a tray full of water in the freezer, they pull out a tray full of ice.
George, if he’s not following the recipe on his notecard, pulls out the best Chicken Florentine you ever tasted.
He did this trick on Letterman the other night. Paul Shafer begged for seconds.
George didn’t join Dave and Paul at the table. He went out for a hamburger after the show.
He’s allergic to spinach.

Hippos

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I don’t know who I can trust with this, but things have been really weird the past few weeks.
When I’m with my friends, all of the sudden, they turn into hippopotamuses.
Yes. Hippopotamuses. Gigantic grey beasts with huge mouths, eating straw and wallowing in the mud on the riverbank.
Just as soon as they turn into these creatures… they’re back.
The first time it happened, I got up off the floor and said “Did you just see that?”
Nobody did. It was just me.
What? Why are you looking at me like that?
Have I… turned into… a… hippo?

Dripping

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Three angels were meditating upon a leaky faucet in God’s kitchen.
The first was inspired to write a symphony based on the dripping of the water and the violence of it crashing against the basin.
The second painted a wonderful painting, capturing the essence of how the light reflected off of the droplets and the passage of each droplet through the air.
The third captured a droplet and brewed a marvelous potion, a taste that was refreshing and soothing.
They presented their creations to God, who howled in rage.
“Why didn’t any of you idiots call a plumber?” He yelled.

The Violent Pizza

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My friend Mikey is one of those political vegans. He orders what he calls non-violent foods, made from healthy ingredients that don”t come from exploiting farm animals.
Today, he’s at a bistro ordering a “non-violent pizza” with garlic, tomatoes, broccoli, and soy cheese.
But the chef has other, sinister plans. He puts on his rubber gloves, reaches for the glowing tubs of shredded meat, and constructs… The Violent Pizza!
In a matter of minutes, a horrifying, angry pizza-creature will burst from the brick oven.
Terrified patrons will scatter and flee.
Mikey, however, will smile and calmly ask for a salad.