Category: My stories

Calling Myself

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I know it sounds weird, but I put myself on speed dial.
That way, when I don’t know what to do, I can always call myself.
Sometimes, I’m the one calling myself. And other times, my phone rings and it’s me.
Usually, it’s nothing important, like directions somewhere.
But the other day, I swear, I heard crying in the background.
“I can’t find the chainsaw,” said my voice over the phone.
“It’s in the shed,” I said. “What do I need it for?”
“Thank you,” I said, and I hung up.
I took myself off of speed-dial and blocked myself.

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.

Belt Loop

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When I’m having a bad day, I’ll take off my belt and reverse it through the loops.
Instead of feeding it around to the right, I’ll feed it to the left.
Does it change anything?
No. But it gives me a moment to breathe and think.
Now, if someone gets me so riled up that I take my belt off a second time, I take it off and beat them with it.
When I’m done, I thread it back the right way.
Get up. Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up.
And don’t piss me off a third time.

The Boat

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He puts her in the ground and plants a tree on the spot as he promised.
Years later, he takes a branch and whittles a small boat from it.
Places a candle in the center.
Go to the water, light the candle, and let it flow downstream.
Every night, you can see dozens of candles floating by.
At sunset, it’s so beautiful. And yet, every light is someone lost.
And someone who has lost.
When it is my time, promise me.
Plant the tree.
Carve a boat.
Light a candle in the center.
And remember.
As I have promised you.

The Book Of Roger

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Ladies and gentlemen, please turn your hymnals to Roger Chapter 5 Verse 3.
What? You nay heard about Roger?
Well, I photocopied it up and stuck it in your books, so shut yer traps and read along or yer all going to Hell!
“Two monkeys were fucking on a unicycle the other day, arguing over an ice cream cone.”
What are ye daft? Why are you lot looking at me like that?
Got a problem with the Gospels or something?
This is The Book of Roger. And Roger didn’t mince words like all the other pansies who wrote The Bible.

Spiders

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Sometimes, grocery shopping with Zelda the Enchantress can be scary.
“What kind of peanut butter would you like?” she asks.
Here’s where it gets confusing.
I like creamy peanut butter.
But I also like crunchy.
Creamy! Crunchy! I can’t decide!
“Spiders!” I shout.
“Spiders?” she asks. “Spider peanut butter?”
“I dunno!” I say. “I panicked.”
She shrugs. “Spider peanut butter,” she says. “And what kind of jelly? Spider jelly?”
“No,” I say. “Um… forget the spider peanut butter. And the jelly.”
“What about the bread?” she asks.
“Forget about the bread,” I say.
Oh great. Now I’m hungry for spiders.

Bottle

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Wanna hear something spooky?
I have an oversized novelty Coke bottle in my den. It’s been there for years, up on the shelf, gathering dust.
Last year, when I picked it up to dust it, it rattled.
There were a bunch of pennies in the bottle.
The thing is, it’s still had the bottlecap on it.
Sealed tight.
When I got it, it didn’t have any pennies in it.
Okay, last week, I dusted it again, and I swear, it had more pennies in there.
How are the pennies getting in there?
Who’s putting the pennies in there?
And why?

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.

Breathing

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My bathrobe looks like it’s breathing.
Maybe it’s a trick of the light.
I woke up in the middle of the night, put on my bathrobe, puttered around a bit, pet the cat, and drank some milk.
Might as well go the the bathroom while I’m up, right?
I put my robe on the floor, take a seat, and after a few minutes, I’m looking at the robe… and… it’s breathing.
It even sounds like it’s breathing.
Or maybe I’m hearing myself breathe. It’s late, and the mind plays tricks on itself.
Maybe it’s the fan blowing.
The cat, perhaps?

Sunset

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It’s been a long day.
I’ve got my beer and my hat, sitting out in the back yard, listening to a whole lot of nothing, and waiting for the sun to set.
Waiting. And waiting.
Lemme check my watch…
It’s way past time for sunset.
And my beer is empty.
Time’s passed.
If the sun’s gonna take its time setting, well, I’m gonna enjoy it.
But just to check, I put my empty at the end of my lawn chair’s shadow.
If it hasn’t moved by the time I finish my other beer, well, I’ll call…
Who do I call?