Tag: society

Jealous Aquaman

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Aquaman lays back in his tub, watching the Olympics on a portable television.
The announcer says Michael Phelps’ name, and the superhero winces.
A twinge of jealousy. A scowl. A clenched fist.
He looks at his costume folded up on the toilet seat.
Orange, green, black, and yellow… sure, the colors are ugly, but it’s a classic.
And functional, too, he reminds himself. That technological suit they wear in the Olympics still can’t produce race times like a true superhero.
Or let them talk to fish.
“Give it up, dude,” says his pet goldfish.
Aquaman sighs, and changes the channel.

The Teacher

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One day, a crate arrived marked TEACHER on the side.
An electrical cord dangled out from a hole.
“Plug it in for 8 hours,” a note said.
So, the principal did.
All of the kids sat quietly while the box hummed slightly.
After 8 hours, the crate was unplugged and the kids left.
Until it was school time again. Once again, kids sat down and it was plugged in.
A dozen kids showed up on Saturday, wanting to learn more.
“Go home,” said the principal.
None showed up on Sunday. They were at church, staring at a crate marked PREACHER.

Flower Bandit

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We checked the video twice.
A man walks into the bank, gives the teller a rose, and she hands him all the cash in the drawer.
He kisses her hand and then walks out to the street, vanishing in the crowd.
No alarm at all.
Nobody knows who he is. His face is all over the news, but he’s not armed or dangerous.
The tellers refuse to say anything about him, but they insist on keeping the flowers.
We’ve checked for fingerprints and DNA… nothing comes up.
What’s curious is that since he started, sales of flowers have gone up.

Colored Clouds

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Paska is a small island with just a few hundred residents.
Everybody knows everyone else.
Especially Josh. He may be Mainlander, but he’s with the Weather Bureau.
He gets freshly-baked pies and hugs when the weather is good.
He gets things thrown at him when the weather is bad.
Every now and then, he likes to tinker with the weather control engine and make the clouds all different colors.
“Make a pink bunny!” says the mayor’s daughter.
Josh pushes a few buttons, pulls a lever, and the island’s church is incinerated by lightning.
“Um,” says Josh. “The bunnies are angry.”

One Billion

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Ever seen a billion dollars up close? Run your hands over it, or your eyes. Slowly.
Even when it’s in hundreds, it fills a room.
You can make a room out of it. Stack it up, make walls, a roof.
Maybe even live in it. But it would make more sense to buy a place with it big enough for what’s left over and you to fit comfortably.
It doesn’t take much. You’d barely miss that little bit at all.
And it wouldn’t miss you. A billion dollars doesn’t care.
It just sits there. In a room. Doing absolutely nothing.

Businessman Specials

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They call early afternoon baseball games “Businessman Specials.”
You might ask why call them that?
After playing a full game the night before, the teams aren’t going to be at their best. So, the players take the day off and the front office suits up.
Ever seen a marketing and branding specialist try to charge a bunt from third?
Almost as ugly as one trying to justify seven-dollar beers while watching a sub-500 cellar-dwelling bum squad.
Or your 100 million dollar cleanup man picking up a broom and cleaning up the stands.
Seen his slugging percentage?
Better make him mop.

Bulletproof

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Someone who’s ready to buy something right then and there has The Look.
The salesman saw it on all the customers he’d just finished demonstrating a high-end laptop to.
“So, any questions?” he asked, snapping the laptop shut.
“How rugged is it?” asked a banker.
The salesman swept the laptop off of the table and it hit the floor.
He picked it up and turned it on.
No damage.
“It’s practically bulletproof,” he said.
A shot rang out, and a bullet dented the case, but the laptop stayed on.
“We’ll take a thousand,” said the Army Colonel, holstering his pistol.

Haircut Time

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I’m overdue for a haircut.
I’ve got every barber in town calling my cell phone.
They’re bidding on the job.
Some of them are trying to sweeten the deal with things like limo rides, hookers, and a free shave.
This one stylist keeps sending me flowers. Huge flower arrangements.
In fact, when I open the door, the whole front hallway is just flowers.
How he got in here to fill the place with flowers, I’m not so sure.
Kinda scares me.
Maybe I’ll just donate it to those cancer folks.
Or shampoo with Nair and let it all fall out.

War of the Gods

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Corn Goddess and the Sky God make war by the ocean.
Wind blows over crops, the people suffer and starve.
Thunder God makes rain, lightning.
Our homes burn.
Coyote the Trickster gives us salt painted like seed.
Fields are ruined, Earth Goddess boils with rage.
We survivors surround the chief.
“Why do we worship these assholes?” asks Runs With Wolves.
The Chief slaps away a bottlefly, courtesy of Insect God.
“Dunno,” says the Chief, handing out brochures. “Let’s pick new religion.”
As we discuss and reason with each other, the chaos subsides.
Their power came from faith. Withheld, it wanes.

Ask A Grampa

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All the ATMs are gone.
These days, whenever you need money, just ask a Grampa for it.
He”ll pull out his roll of bills, licks his thumb, and gives you one last look before he peels off what you need.
Need to deposit your cash? Just give it to a Grampa, and it goes right in his pocket.
There”s always a Grampa around when you need one.
Little, fuzzy-eared wrinkled old men, puttering around, smiling wide, enjoying the beautiful weather.
Nobody would ever think to rob a Grampa. After all, he”s our Grampa!
We love Grampa, and he loves us.