Tag: commentary

Cheap Knives

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You can tell the class of friends you have by the quality of knife they stick in your back.
Sterling silver is the best. Those are the ones you forgive.
Stainless steel, maybe you don’t forgive them so quickly.
And plastic knives, those you should have never been friendly with in the first place.
The kind of knife matters, too.
A carving knife or a butcher’s knife lets you know they really care, while a butter knife will just slide right off no matter what it’s made of.
So that spork you stuck in my back, that’s low, man. Low.

Turtles

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It’s okay to hate on turtles.
Turtles are smug, patient little reptiles that plod along stream beds and aquarium tanks, completely without worry or concern for the stresses of modern, civilized life.
Plus, there was the time that I went to court to protest a parking ticket.
The jury consisted of twelve turtles.
I protested, demanding a jury of my peers, but the judge waved me off.
“We’ve been having problems with people showing up for jury duty,” said the judge. “So now, we go to the pet store and grab turtles.”
I guess kittens are too expensive.
Damn turtles.

The Truce

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There’s a demon standing at the gates of Heaven.
He bangs on the lock.
“Let him in,” The Lord says to Peter.
Every year, Satan offers up a Christmas Truce.
And every year, God declines it.
“Just as my son is the Prince of Peace, Lucifer is the Prince of Lies.”
The demon returned to hell, message torn in half.
Satan wept, black tears rolling down his greasy cheeks.
“We will honor it anyway,” he sighed.
With an oily rag, he wipes his face and turns to his minions.
“No missions today,” he says. “Instead, we will train for tomorrow.”

Gadgets

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The gadgets you buy today will be the junk of tomorrow.
So why not buy junk now and just be a bit behind the curve?
It’s cheaper, less stressful, and you know the things will be tried-and-tested as opposed to the buggy releases available at the bleeding edge.
The guy that I got my secondhand artificial heart from was buying a newer, fancier model. He thought it would be more reliable.
It glitched while he was in an elevator. By the time they got him to the hospital, he was dead.
While his former heart keeps on ticking in me.

Regifting

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Santa slides down the chimney, opens his sack, and puts the presents under the tree.
Then he picks up the presents sitting by the fireplace and stuffs those into his sack.
Back up the chimney, into the sleigh, and the helper-elf double-checks the inventory and flight plans.
“I know that business is bad, Boss, but did you have to add regifting to your services?” asked Twinky.
“Shut up,” said Santa, watching the GPS flash a new destination. The time display next to it flashes an unjolly red. “Fucking eBay.”
He cracks his whip, and the eight miserable reindeer take flight.

Roller Coaster Therapy

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I have this friend in the hospital that has a unique way of releasing all their frustrations and anger and fears.
They call it “roller coaster therapy.”
You get on a rollercoaster with your therapist, and you spend the next three minutes working out your problems while screaming and waving your arms and getting loop-the-looped.
By the time you get to the end of the ride, you’ve pretty much gotten everything out of your system.
Well, that’s assuming you get to the end of the ride.
Sometimes, they fall off of the sofa.
And that’s why they’re in the hospital.

Unusual Creatures

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I know you’re familiar with butterflies.
But are you familiar with I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butterflies?
They look like butterflies.
They fly like butterflies.
And, if you lick them, they taste like butterflies.
But the truth is, they’re not actually butterflies.
They are Something Else.
Unless you have a microscope, you won’t see the gearworks poking through the body that make the wings flap. The faint glow of lights in the eyes. And there’s no way you can hear the faint ticking.
So realistic. So beautiful.
You’ll believe it’s a real butterfly. And, really, isn’t that all that matters?

Disinformation Society

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Sunrise. Sunset.
We know that the earth goes around the sun, right?
Dialing a number. Setting sail.
Anachronisms. Terminology based on old technology.
Prostitutes know that the term “making love” has nothing to do with their profession.
The language has become polluted. We have twisted it into the opposite of communicating thoughts and ideas.
It is a tool of miscommunication.
So, we now skip the whole concept of language and communicate directly.
It started with brain-to-brain wires, but it’s all wireless now.
No language. Just pure, honest thoughts and ideas.
The person who invents the oxymoron will become disgustingly rich.

Rights

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The Legislature voted down the gay marriage bill for the third time in a year, and the governor said he’d just as soon sign a bill that allowed gays to fly.
So, as an April Fool’s joke, the legislature passed that bill. Unanimously.
The governor called a press conference and, in front of a dozen reporters, signed it.
And as he looked out over the assembled group, he noticed a few people rising from their chairs into the air.
Alarmed, he held on to the podium, knuckles white against the wood.
But his feet would not stay on the ground.

Seasick

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I don’t like boats.
I get horribly seasick.
I’ve tried drugs, but those seasickness drugs make me even sicker.
So, I stay off of boats.
Recently, I was diagnosed with cancer.
The chemotherapy made me really sick.
So they gave me anti-nausea drugs.
When the treatment was over and the doctors told me they couldn’t do anything else, I didn’t know what to do.
So I got on a boat.
And I felt fine.
“Give me more of those pills,” I said. “Enough to last me.”
So they did. Thirty yellow pills.
And I’ve been on the water ever since.