The Lighter

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Down in the dungeon, the witch stirs up a boiling cauldron full of jokes
“We stir to keep the lighter jokes from floating to the top and staying there,” says Hildegard the Wicked. “Only when the jokes are finished do we skim them from the top.”
I’ve asked her what she puts in the pot to make the jokes, but she never reveals her secret.
“You don’t want to know,” she says. “Just drink the potions I give you and be happy with it.”
Sure, I’ll drink it, but I won’t be happy with it.
Funny, yes. But not happy.

Poetry and Coffee

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She asks me which I would rather have: good poetry and bad coffee, or bad poetry and good coffee.
“Why not good poetry and good coffee?” I ask. “Can’t you do both?”
It turns out, not only is she the waitress but she’s also a poet. “I don’t have time for both,” she says. “I can either concentrate on the coffee or write really good poetry.”
“Coffee,” I say.
“But this coffee will last only an hour or so,” she says. “My poetry will last for generations, long after I’m dead.”
I shrug. “I guess they won’t tip you either.”

Under Observation

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We watch everything you do.
We listen to everything you say.
We read everything you write.
We know everywhere you go.
And after all this time, we’ve come to the simple conclusion that you’re the most boring person on Earth.
You don’t do anything interesting at all. We haven’t filed a single report on you in all the time you’ve been under observation.
You’re an easy assignment. Boring, but easy.
So we’re just going to ignore the fact that you’re dead and just keep filing the same reports over and over.
You won’t mind.
Because you’re dead.
That’s… our secret.

The Itch

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Two more days.
They warned me not to scratch it.
“If that poison touches the air, it’ll change,” said the nurse. “Your body can fight it on its own if it’s inside, but if you scratch it, you’ll get worse.”
They can’t give me anything for the pain.
“It’ll react with the poison, too,” said the nurse. “Nasty stuff.”
My hands are tied to the bed rails. I’ve dislocated my shoulder again in the past hour.
“MAKE IT STOP!” I scream.
The door is closed, the walls are padded.
The nurse smiles. “Be good, or we’ll inject you with more.”

Under

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This morning, I found a tarp on my lawn.
I want to peek under it, but who knows what’s under it.
Tarps cover things you don’t want to look at.
I can’t tell what’s under there by the bulge in the tarp.
And every time I look, I swear it’s changed shape.
Maybe someone will take it if I just go back to my routine.
So, I drag out the trash cans and check the mailbox.
Everybody’s mailbox is empty.
“Maybe the mailman is under that tarp?” my neighbor asks.
We sit around and wait.
Nobody looks. We just wait.

The Thief

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The thief breaks into your house and steals your dreams while you sleep.
He puts them in a burlap sack and tiptoes through the night.
The fence looks through the sack of dreams.
“Second-rate pipedreams here,” he says.
He always says they’re second-rate to get the price down.
“This one’s shattered,” he says, pointing out the pieces in the bottom of the sack.
They agree on fifty bucks.
The thief doesn’t know what the fence does with the dreams. He’s heard of some guy named Sandman.
The thief doesn’t care. He just steals and sells them.
And dreams of retiring.

Falling

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I miss falling leaves.
I used to make a cup of tea and watch the leaves fall from the trees at sunset.
From her days as a kitten to old age, the cat would pounce them the moment they hit the ground.
Here in the space station, everything’s falling together.
No leaves.
No trees.
No cats.
No cups or spoons for tea. Just a plastic bag and straw.
I close my eyes and try to remember the leaves. Sunsets. Tea.
I can’t.
The videos you send aren’t the same, either.
Eight months to go on this mission.
And then… falling.

Green Beans

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Momma always said you ain’t lonely when you got green beans.
So, I got these here green beans. I hugged on them, and they snapped all so happy.
They now my friends.
Course, I also hungry, so maybe I put some here butter and salt on em.
They sure do mighty delicious. I could just eat one and…
Oh, one more… okay?
Wait… I’ll be right back…
Oh no. I done ate them all. My friends.
I got me an idea… I’ll just go to the bathroom and wait.
When I see them again, I’m gonna hug them so tight!

Billybob Steak

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It was the biggest steak Paul had seen in his life.
“Eat all of the Billybob Big Steak, and you get it for free,” said the waiter.
“Really?”
“Really.”
So, Paul picked up his fork and knife and went to work.
He didn’t think he could do it, but after an hour there was one bite of steak left.
He put it on his fork, stuck it in his mouth, and swallowed.
“I win!” he said, and the piece of steak caught in his throat.
As hard as the waiter tried, Paul still choked to death.
Billybob catered the funeral.

The Mustard Guru

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I am waiting for a process on this server to finish.
The progress bar is stuck at 27 percent.
“A watched progress bar never completes,” says the guru in the cubicle next to mine.
So, I turn off the monitor.
The guru turns it back on. “Can’t do that,” he says.
I close my eyes. He smacks me on the back of my head.
“Ouch.”
He hands me a packet of spicy mustard from his lunch.
“Smear that on the monitor,” he commands.
So, I do.
He smacks me on the back of the head again.
“Now, lick it off.”