Category: My stories

New Phone

600620

I bought a new phone.
It has a lot of features, but instead of sitting down and reading the manual, I’m going to power it up and then complain about how hard it is to use.
Yes, I’m that much of an impatient dick. Instead of spending a little time now to save a lot of time later, I just like to hear the sound of my own angry, bitching voice.
The box says it’s supposed to have all sorts of stuff. Including a stun gun.
But I don’t have time to read about it… hey, my first call!
YEOW!

The Right Religion

601568

After thousands of years of praying, sacrificing, killing, maiming, and suffering through gospel music, mankind had finally determined which of all religions was the right one.
The Global Address System, normally reserved for planetwide emergencies, was turned on as the researchers revealed their findings.
“We have determined that the Supreme Being is the 2917k5b Asteroid,” they said. “This mighty rock may not be the creator of our universe, but it will certainly be our destruction.”
Riots and chaos spread across the globe, and billions of people died.
“Nice joke there, Dr. Walters,” said a scientist. “Solved that pesky population problem.”

The Dying Killers

597335

We smuggle the temple priests, women, and children out of the village under cover of darkness.
The jihad strikes at dawn, mercilessly killing everyone.
The children and women are told not to cry, lest we be spotted.
They cry silently, never sleeping.
The next day, we wait and watch the jihad march South.
Then, one by one, the killers drop dead in the sand.
Returning to the village, we see the destruction… blood everywhere, animals slaughtered, men cut in half, and buildings burned.
And the false granary, full of poisoned seed, empty.
The priests bless the dead, and we rebuild.

Fungusville

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There’s nothing unusual about Fungusville.
It’s a typical small town just a half mile or so off the freeway.
There’s houses, schools, businesses, and even a Main Street.
City Hall has a square with a cannon, a fountain, and a statue as part of a war memorial.
They have two churches, and they have a softball game on the Fourth of July every year.
No matter how many people I ask, nobody knows where the name Fungusville came from, or why someone would name a town after fungus.
Rubes!
I shrug and hop on the bus back to Hemorrhoid Falls.

Colin Cares

600464

Does Colin care?
You can’t tell by looking at Colin’s face. He’s always got the same confused expression on his face.
Colin is easily confused.
Snap your fingers, and he’ll turn his head to see what’s the racket.
Set fire to his shoes, and he’ll just watch them, trying to figure out why they’re burning.
“Don’t you care that your shoes are on fire, Colin?” I shout.
Colin just stands there, watching.
I pour a bucket of water on his feet, putting out the flames.
“They’re not my shoes,” mutters Colin. “They’re my roommate’s.”
And he goes back to staring.

Oatmeal and Raisins

600154

We shut down the particle accelerator, turn off the lights and call it a day.
Back in the break room, a food fight breaks out. We’re throwing cookies at each other.
Smashed cookies litter the floor.
And then, upon closer inspection…
“Wait,” says Dr. Thompson. “These are plain oatmeal cookies, right?”
“Right,” says his assistant.
“Then where did all these raisins come from?”
He picks one up, and begins to theorize on cookie particles in other dimensions, crossing over with energy transformation.
Then he tastes it.
And makes a horrible face.
I shrug and call the exterminator.
“We’ve got rats.”

Counting Sheep

600466

I’ve been having trouble sleeping.
I’ve tried counting sheep, but I’ve only got one sheep.
His name is Fred.
“One,” I say, looking at Fred.
“Baaaaaaaa,” says Fred.
“Jump over the fence again, Fred,” I say.
“Baaaaaaaa,” says Fred, and he grazes a bit.
So, I brained Fred with a baseball bat, carved him up, and cooked him.
Fred was absolutely delicious!
I woke up the next day, rested and feeling full.
The next night, Fred was back, standing by the fence.
And he was just as delicious when I ate him.
Sure, it’s the same sheep, but who’s counting?

The Orange Hair

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While I’m at work, the cat sleeps on my pillow all day.
I know this, because his long orange hair is all over the pillow when I get home.
I brush it off, roll up the clumps, and put them in the trash.
I go through this every day, going to work and coming back to find that my pillow had been shed on.
Beats having cat piss or cat shit on the pillow, right?
So I called an exorcist.
You see, the cat died three years ago, and as much as I miss him, I want this to stop.

Hole in my sock

475550

I think there is a hole in my sock.
There was a hole in my underwear a few days ago, but it slipped and dropped into my pant leg.
I don’t see the hole in my pants anymore, so either the hole fell into my sock or it dropped out through the cuff and on to the ground.
I take off my sock and look.
No hole in my sock.
I check the other sock. No holes there either.
Then I see the blood.
The hole is now in my foot.
I hop to the bathroom and get a bandage.

The Milkman Cometh

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I remember when milk was five cents a carton and chocolate milk was six.
I always bought chocolate.
Years later, working at the milk processing plant, I now know the truth.
It’s just brown coloring we put in.
Per ounce, it’s less expensive than actual milk.
The packaging costs the same to print. Chocolate milk has a brown carton and the regular has blue.
My son starts his first day of school tomorrow.
Regular milk is 75 cents, chocolate milk is a buck.
So, he’ll get his classmates to pay the extra quarter.
Chip off the old block, he is.