Tag: mystery

Iris

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Just as some women light up a room, Iris scented up a room with her peculiar aroma.
For some reason, Iris liked to spray herself with water from a handheld mister and then dust herself from head to toe with powdered cinnamon.
She said that she learned this from her mother, although her mother used nutmeg.
Iris preferred cinnamon to nutmeg.
At parties, people would look around for the air freshener or the scented candle.
Iris would smile, knowing they’d eventually figure out it was her.
She’d dip her fingers in their coffee, and they’d sip her up with glee.

Katy Can

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If something’s broken, Katy can fix it.
Katy can fix anything.
Bicycles. Lawnmowers. Machine guns.
Just give it to her and leave her alone.
At the last possible moment, when you’re about ready to give up, she’ll tap you on the shoulder and say it’s done.
She never fails.
Now, you can’t ask her to build something from scratch. That, she can’t do.
Or, more precisely, she won’t do.
But fixing things that are broken, that’s what she does.
And does well.
So would you still like us to bring you a doctor, or shall we ask Katy?
Thought so.

Carried Away

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I was doing a math problem the other night when I had to carry the seven.
So, I did. Up the stairs and into the bedroom.
I performed horrible, unspeakable acts upon that seven, things that would be illegal if I had done them in fourteen states.
Then, I carried the seven to the hospital, because it wasn’t breathing.
The doctors said that I was an idiot – sevens don’t breathe.
So, I carried the seven home and finished the math problem.
I’m working on another math problem. This time, I have to carry a one.
A thick, strong, sexy one.

Middle Stall

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There are three stalls in the bathroom.
After careful observation, I’ve noticed that whenever Stanley uses the left one, he comes out the right one. And whenever he uses the right one, he comes out the left one.
Stanley can’t explain it. It”s just something that happens.
So, I asked him what happens when he uses the middle one.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never used it.”
He stepped into the center stall and closed the door.
A minute went by before I knocked.
“Are you in there, Stanley?” I asked.
He wasn’t.
If you see him, call me?

George

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George hated dogs. He hated the shit out of them.
People were always telling their dogs to bark at him, or worse – set their dogs loose on him.
George spent an awful lot of his childhood running from dogs.
Years later, in his research facility, George looked at the creamy substance in the mixing bowl and smiled.
“At long last, I shall have my revenge!” he cackled with glee, scooping up a dollop of the peanut butter and offering it to a dog.
He laughed a hearty laugh as the poor, dumb beast desperately licked its chops for fifteen minutes.

Space Program

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You know all those monkeys and dogs they shot up into space in the Sixties?
They never told the public the truth about those animals in the space program.
But I will.
Every time they fired up one of those monkeys up into the sky, a dog would come down.
And when they fired a dog into space, back down they’d get a monkey.
Scientists couldn’t explain it. Dogs turned into monkeys and monkeys turned into dogs.
Years later, the Russians revealed that their dogs also turned into monkeys and their monkeys turned into dogs.
They couldn’t explain it either.

Pyramid Sam

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Pyramid Sam offers to take us on a tour of Giza for fifty bucks, the most authentic and comprehensive tour around, he says.
That’s way cheaper than the government guides. And he says it’s the most authentic tour, which I’m not sure what he means.
The signs say to only take tours from the government guides, but what’s the harm, right?
So, we follow Sam into his tent, and that’s when he reaches for a set of controls and sends us hurtling into the past.
Outside the tent, Ancient Egypt awaits.
I hope I bought enough batteries and memory sticks.

Afraid Of

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Susan was afraid to fly. You couldn’t get her on an airplane, let alone anywhere near the airport.
She’d scream in horror the moment a commercial played on television for an airline.
Her life was an absolute wreck.
Then, she went to the hospital for a special research project they were conducting for people afraid of flying.
And, three weeks later, she was cured of her fear of flying.
However, she slowly but surely became deathly afraid of not flying.
Pretty soon, she had to be suspended from the ground by wires.
Maybe we can change her fear to pancakes.

Delays

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Through the tears, the sky glistens like the clouds are coated with glass dust, spread across a smear of powder blue.
Beyond, stars twinkle in the darkness. You can’t see them during the day, but they’re out there, all around us, a snapshot from tens, hundreds, thousands, and millions of years ago as the light tries to get here as fast as it can.
Once, I heard thunder a year after lightning had struck a tree. I was walking past a tree stump when a loud blast shattered the air.
Better late than never, I always say, but enough’s enough.

The Happy Pie

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It was an ordinary pumpkin pie, fresh from the bakery.
We were finished with the roast beef, so it was time for dessert.
Victor grabbed the can of whipped cream and added two dots for eyes and a long curled smile.
That’s when it became the happy pie.
“Come on, Victor,” I said. “Let’s have the pie.”
We all wanted a slice, but Victor shouted “THE HAPPY PIE IS TOO HAPPY TO EAT!” and he ran off with it.
Victor wasn’t hard to chase down. He was sitting on the curb, the pie splattered against the sidewalk.
Happy, no more.