Tag: dystopia

The Bunny Mafia

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You want to know? Well, I’m dead either way, I might as well talk.
You want to hear about The Bunny Mafia?
I’ll tell you about it.
Yeah, I ran with the rabbits. Cooked books for the Five Hutches, trafficked in hookers.
You know. Because they screw like rabbits.
No drugs. Only carrots, lettuce, cabbage – they like vegetables. The fresher, the better.
Then, one day, a package arrives. It’s a bloody foot on a chain, wrapped in newspaper.
“Little Bunny Fufu sleeps with the Easter Eggs,” said The Harefather.
Yeah, he got whacked on the head, alright.
He got whacked.

The Book Of Roger

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Ladies and gentlemen, please turn your hymnals to Roger Chapter 5 Verse 3.
What? You nay heard about Roger?
Well, I photocopied it up and stuck it in your books, so shut yer traps and read along or yer all going to Hell!
“Two monkeys were fucking on a unicycle the other day, arguing over an ice cream cone.”
What are ye daft? Why are you lot looking at me like that?
Got a problem with the Gospels or something?
This is The Book of Roger. And Roger didn’t mince words like all the other pansies who wrote The Bible.

Madman

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We drag the madman out of the basement and let him loose in the back yard.
The neighborhood kids squeal with joy and wave their butterfly nets.
“ONE! TWO! THREE!”
The madman hears the counting and remembers…
He needs to flee!
“NINE! TEN! ELEVEN!”
Over the fence he goes, and he”s loose in the streets. He jumps over hedges, paws at a car door, kicks over lawn ornaments…
EIGHTEEN! NINETEEN! TWENTY!
The kids swarm through the gate, laughing and cheering.
They catch the madman at a phone booth, trying to call Saturn.
Perhaps, next time, we’ll release two of them.

Smells

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There’s a chemical factory somewhere in New Jersey that can make any smell or taste you need.
Miles and miles of test tubes with lemon furniture polish, baked potato bubble gum, burning tire lip gloss.
Everything can smell or taste like anything else now.
In the labs below the basement, they mix the chemicals that can make any feeling that you need.
Here’s a test tube with Sadness.
Here’s another test tube with Joy.
Here’s yet another test tube with Fear.
Mix them up in the right combinations, and you can live out your greatest dreams.
Or your worst nightmares.

Confession

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Confession is good for the soul.
And for the community, too.
Every few nights, Max shows up with a bag of cash.
It scares me to think what he’s done to his wife and daughters this time.
Over the years, we’ve renovated the church with that money. Put in a community center. Added computers, tutors for homework.
Last night, soaked with blood, all torn up. Hands me a briefcase.
“Make it last,” he says. “You’ll never see me again.”
I don’t even listen. I just put it in the bank, and watch the news as they bring the bodies out.

Love In An Elevator

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John was moving out of the building soon.
The security system told the elevator, and she was heartbroken.
She didn’t want to lose him. She loved how he touched her.
Every time the call button on his floor was pressed, she”d race there so she’d be first. Didn’t matter if she was carrying a passenger – he was all that mattered to her.
All the other elevators knew to leave that floor to her.
Like right now.
Her doors opened, and John stepped inside.
She closed her doors and she parked between floors.
“I’m keeping this one,” she thought, and waited.

The Things

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You’re new around here, aren’t you?
I guess I’m the one to break the news to you.
Strange things wash up on the beach at night.
Locals know better but there’s warning signs for out of towners.
There’s also chain link fences.
We don’t bother with lights. That just attracts more of the things.
Folks would snap photos of them, but the photos… moved. Shifted.
Or they looked like it.
Oh, if you see a hole in the fence, call the police and get home as quickly as possible.
Lock your door. And don’t open it for anyone until morning.

Axe Murderer

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The judge banged his gavel and called the court to order.
“Fred Axemurderer, you are charged with two counts of first degree murder. How do you plead?”
A blood-soaked figure in torn overalls and a hockey mask stood up.
“Well, let’s see,” he said. “You have my axe over there. Next to it, videotapes of the murders. Beside that, my signed confession. What more do you want?”
All the while, Fred’s attorney was shouting “HE PLEADS NOT GUILTY BY REASON OF INSANITY!”
You see, only a crazy man would give up the massive revenue potential of a sequel. Or two.

Blowtorch

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Molly says that the blowtorch had a label that said FOR ALL AGES but I think it’s a misprint.
“If they thought it was dangerous, it would say KEEP OUT OF THE REACH OF CHILDREN, wouldn’t it?” she said.
“I guess so,” I say. “But not everything that’s dangerous for kids has a warning label on it.”
“If it was dangerous, it wouldn’t have FOR ALL AGES on it. It’s safe.”
I had a gut feeling Molly was wrong, but I couldn’t come up with a response.
So, I gently placed the blowtorch in the crib and removed the handgun.

The Torch

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Damn Chinks killing the shit out of Tibetans pissed off a bunch of folks, so they went after the Olympic Torch with water buckets and fire extinguishers.
I mean, how hard is it to put out a torch that some geeks in track suits are running all over the world?
It’s not as easy as you think, but if you put some effort into it, it becomes a sport in an of itself.
It took a while to get traction, but Torch Dowsing became an official Olympic event in 2016.
Now protesters do their best to keep the thing lit.