Category: My stories

Dr. Frankenpizza

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Every evening, after Dr. Frankenstein would fail to bring his creature to life, Igor ordered a pizza and have it delivered to the castle.
“What would you like on your pizza, Master?” Igor asked.
“Does it really matter?” Dr. Frankenstein sighed, sweeping the ashes off of the lab table, mopping up blood with a rag.
“Right, Master,” said Igor.
Thirty minutes later, a knock on the castle door.
Igor carefully sneaked behind the delivery boy and brained him with a club.
“Will this one do?” said Igor.
“Certainly,” said Dr. Frankenstein, smiling.
“And about the pizza?”
“Ugh. I hate pizza.”

The Death of Walter

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Walter ran with a tough crowd.
They were the Boston Mafia, jogging through their Framingham neighborhood in the morning, bodyguards forming a protective cloud.
Once, Walter was out jogging on his own, and he crossed paths with that Mafia group.
The bodyguards checked him for weapons, recognized him from the travel agency, and invited him along.
Now, in an era of online airline reservations, Walter still got steady business from this group. Cruises and extended vacations, a little something extra for a private villa for a week.
And Walter never testified against them.
They killed him anyway.
It’s only business.

Wishbone

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Tommy is my older brother.
He’s a bully. And a jerk.
Every year when it’s time to break the wishbone, he puts his thumb on it so it breaks in his favor.
This year, I made a wish:
I want him to be gone.
Totally gone.
When it came time to snap the wishbone, I started on it with my thumb high on the bone.
We struggled, and then I heard the snap.
I opened my eyes.
I had the bigger piece of the wishbone.
And… and…
My dad held the other piece.
“Congratulations,” he said, smiling. “Make a wish?”

Cashews

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Yes, this is a magical nut dish that I am posting on eBay.
I put peanuts in the nut dish, close the lid, and they turn into cashews when I lift the lid.
I don’t like cashews. I like peanuts.
Turning peanuts into cashews has no appeal to me.
Sure, it’s cool that it changes one thing into another in a manner that defies explanation, but as many times as I show my friends and scientists, I still end up with mounds and mounds of cashews.
And I don’t like cashews.
Want a nut dish? And want some cashews, too?

Funeral barge

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I watch a milk carton boat float down the bayou, a dead hamster laying inside.
I walk upstream until I come to a house.
A boy on the front steps, crying.
“What’s wrong?”
“The hamster died,” he whines. “Mom beat me.”
I knock on the door, and a woman answers “What do you want?”
A younger boy is behind her, also crying.
“Why did you beat a kid for his hamster dying?” I asked.
She says “It was his little brother’s. Now butt out.” And slams the door.
I walk down the steps, and punch the kid in the face.

Static Wave

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Instead of saying her first word, my daughter opened her mouth and a wave of static filled the room.
The lights flickered for a few seconds before they caught and stayed lit.
I was expecting a Mommy or Daddy, like most kids, but the doctors warned us that the high percentage of nanoparticles in her system may alter her development slightly.
My wife and I said “Good, Marcie!” and tried to be supportive, but her grimace matched mine.
Still, despite the setback, not bad for 5 days old.
We’ll finish uploading Calculus tonight and start work on her Quantum Physics.

High-Five

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Grampa only had one last bit of advice for me before he died: “Never high-five a pirate.”
Then, he died.
Grampa was always good for stupid, useless advice.
According to him, you should never cook sea urchins on a Thursday. As if I’d cook them on any day of the week? They’re disgusting!
He also said that Van Gogh was smart. Cutting off your ear to impress a chick is a lot smarter than cutting off his balls like Picasso did.
“But Picasso never castrated himself,” I said.
Grampa just lit his pipe, blew a cloud of smoke, and winked.

The Diploma

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Okay, so I hit it off with this chick at a bar, we’re both drunk as hell, and she says come back to my place.
So, we do.
I don’t know how we got there, but we got there.
We both took our clothes off, and… we…
Agree we’ll do it in the morning. Just too damn drunk.
I wake up eight hours later, and…
What the hell is her name?
I look around, and her medical degree is over the bed.
Aha!
She wakes up, I say her name, and…
She goes by her middle name.
Oops.
I lose.

Time Kennel

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I think putting my dogs in the kennel while I travel is cruel.
So, I put the dogs in the Time Kennel.
It’s not like the Pet Freeze service. Those folks are butchers, freezing and thawing pets. They end up shattering or roasting them half the time.
No, these folks use a quantum bridge tunnel to send your pet into the future, right to the time of your return from a vacation or business trip.
To them, you’ve never left.
They lose fewer pets. Although, when they do, at least your dog has a fighting chance in the year 5000.

The Wreathmaker

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I work for a place that makes wreaths.
Year-round, we make memorial wreaths.
But during the holidays, we get a lot of orders for Christmas wreaths.
Sure, they’re just fancy flowers and branches and twists of wire, but each one gets a serial number and a chip in them that lets us double-check and triple-check they’re going to the right place.
Nobody wants to hang a memorial wreath on their front door. And the one time we sent a Christmas wreath to a funeral, well, this is why we now keep one or two extra wreaths in the delivery vans.