Category: My stories

The Cookie

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The timer goes off, and I open the oven.
There’s just one cookie on the baking sheet, but it’s a big one.
It’s bigger than a dinner plate. And it has chocolate chips the size of quarters, ready to melt in my mouth.
It’s cool out, so I put the sheet on the window ledge to cool.
Milk. I’m going to need milk.
I hop on my motorcycle and head to the store, pick up a quart of milk, and rush back.
The cookie’s still there, waiting.
I can’t eat it. It’s too… perfect.
I drink the milk and sigh.

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.

Vlad

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They called Count Vlad a crossdressing pervert.
He likes to wrap himself in bandages and sleep in an Egyptian-style coffin.
“They think I am a mummy,” he laughs. “While my assassins hunt for canopic jars with my vitals or try to torch my body, I just laugh and smile.”
I asked him about the dress, heels, and lipstick.
“That’s none of your business!” he hissed.
Tonight, he goes with a red wig.
“It’s my lucky hair,” he says, and walks out into the night.
He won’t have much trouble getting blood tonight at the bar.
Crossdressers eat that look up.

Leon

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We keep Leon in a dark pit, sealed and guarded.
I don’t know how he eats.
I don’t know how he drinks.
I don’t know how he breathes.
Once, I wanted to let Leon out, but he refused to unlock the door to the pit.
“Leon doesn’t want to be let out,” said a guard, escorting me from the door.
“He has to come out eventually, I said.
“When he wants to, he will, said the guard, and I leave.
Leon’s been in there for a very long time.
For now, he’ll be staying there.
Even if it’s my turn.

Justice Soup

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We stood around the body, wondering who had killed the man.
So, I got out a can of alphabet soup, waved it over the corpse, poured it into a mug, and microwaved it.
When it was ready, I chanted the magic spell and threw the mug at the wall.
It shattered and splashed everywhere.
“Look!” gasped the police inspector.
The name of the killer was on the wall, spelled out in noodles for all to see.
“Simple divination magic,” I said. “Nothing to it.”
The killer was found, his bloody knife retrieved, and justice was done.
So, want some soup?

The Movers

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When I was little, seven or eight, we moved from Chicago to Columbus.
Everything was packed into cardboard boxes. The boxes each got a numbered sticker. Then, they were put into trucks, and arrived at the new house a few days later.
My brother and I collected all of the stickers.
Red.
Blue.
A few yellow ones.
I can’t remember the highest numbers. They were in the hundreds.
But in the end, we never did find the sticker with the number one on it.
Meanwhile, our parents were trying to figure out just what the hell is in each box.

I Don’t Want To Sleep

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I don’t want to sleep.
Things are happening all over the world all the time.
If I sleep, something will happen, and I won’t know about it until I wake up again.
I’ve tried alarms based on news alerts and Google searches, but it’s so hard to find the right rules to use.
I sleep less and less every day, but that just makes me less and less alert when I am awake.
I miss just as much from being drowsy as I do being asleep.
So, I’ll sleep, and the world can go on without me.
Good night, everyone.

Pissed

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Ever gone into the woods to piss on a tree and the tree moves out of your way?
Yeah, you’ve got to be really drunk for that to happen, stumbling around and falling on your ass by the side of the road.
Except this time, I was stone cold sober.
Did I imagine that it had moved?
I walked over to the tree and…
It moved back to its original spot.
“Hello?” I said. “Is anybody there?”
Nobody answered.
I zipped back up and headed back to the car.
It was covered with tree sap.
Damn it!
Where’s my chainsaw?

Shoelaces

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“Your shoelace is untied,” says a voice.
I stop and look back.
Nobody’s there.
I hear this kind of thing all the time. Especially since the accident.
I was always bad about tying my shoelaces when I was little. Sure, I tripped a few times, but I learned to just tuck the laces in.
I liked loose shoes. Nice and relaxed.
So, when one came loose on the railway platform and I tripped over it, I was really surprised.
Train ran over my legs.
Yeah, there’s nobody behind me.
I turn back around and roll my wheelchair to the elevator.

I was a pirate

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I had a dream I was a pirate.
We sailed the seven seas, although I think we may have sailed one sea twice. And that last one may have been a municipal pool.
I’m not that good with maps and charts. And I tend to look down the wrong end of a spyglass. Oh, and I get seasick in the bathtub.
But this is my dream, okay? And I was a pirate in my dream.
I didn’t have a hook for a hand. Or a pegleg. Or even an eyepatch.
Just a pirate, sailing the seven seas of my dreams.