The King Of The Beach lives in a massive sandcastle.
He stands on the parapet, looking out over his beach.
When he spots a child making a sandcastle, he orders his men to invade the usurper’s territory and smite their castle.
Sometimes, a child tries to put up a fight, so The King lays siege to their castle
“Mom, can you get me an ice cream?” shouts the child.
Their mother looks at the King’s men, and she urges the kid to surrender. “We’ll go to Disneyland next month, okay?”
The victorious King laughs, and returns to his parapet, watching.
Tag: childhood
The Crime
It was a sunny day without a cloud in the sky when Bert killed Ernie.
After all those years together, Ernie only wanted to share his bathtub with his rubber duckie.
And all those stupid, annoying questions.
The last thing Ernie said was “Why is it Sesame Street instead of Sesame Court?”
Bert snapped.
A few hours later, Bert called the police and confessed.
The police said they’d send someone to pick him up.
Three hours later, the police unit had gotten lost on the way.
The officer called Bert: “Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?”
Tattoos
VERSION 1:
Unlike ice cream trucks and their melodic chimes playing Turkey In The Straw or Pop Goes The Weasel, Ted’s Tattoo Truck announces its presence with Metallica’s Enter Sandman.
He usually parks it outside of schools and offers up a wide range of temporary tattoos, from snarling demons to Hello Kitty. But every now and then, a company will hire him to print up their logo or latest marketing buzzword for a corporate picnic.
His original plan was to offer real tattoos, but those take too long to create.
Temporary tattoos allow repeat business, and don’t piss off parents as much.
VERSION 2:
Do you hear that?
That’s not Pop Goes The Weasel, or Turkey in the Straw.
That’s Metallica’s Enter Sandman on the jangly jinglechimes of Ted’s Temporary Tattoo Truck!
It’s been a while since he was last at our school.
Our moms and dads were so angry. But Ted’s lawyer was angrier, and now Ted’s back! Hoorah!
What will you get?
A unicorn? A demon? A Hello Kitty?
A Harry Potter forehead lightning bolt scar?
I’m going to get Mom on a heart for my arm. Maybe get a whole sheet of them.
Because who knows when he’ll be back again.
Imaginary
Do imaginary children worry their imaginary parents when they have real friends?
I tried to ask my imaginary friend Steve, but he kept insisting that he was real.
“Oh, come on, you’re not real,” I said. “My parents don’t let me have real friends because I bite them.”
Steve insisted that he was real. “They tell you I’m not because my parents don’t want you biting me.”
“Aha! I’m right! They do worry!”
Steve shook his head, and went back to playing with his Tinkertoys.
I reached for the Tinkertoys… but my tentacles passed through them.
I hate being imaginary.
Sharing
When I was growing up, my brother and I shared a room.
Our family had a maid who took the train from the city, but sometimes she stayed overnight in a room of her own.
When she died and wasn’t replaced, I was moved to her room.
“What kind of wallpaper do you want?” asked my dad, showing me hundreds of samples.
I chose Mighty Mouse wallpaper.
Bad choice. Dozens of bulgy-eyed supermice, staring at me from the wall.
He may be here to save the day, but he’ll be back at night to rob you of your precious sleep.
Pins
One wall of my room was covered with corkboard so things could be pinned to it.
Well, okay. It wasn’t my room. It was the room my brother and I were in.
I don’t say shared because he thought of it as his room, and I was an intruder.
One wall was a corkboard, and he had all his posters and stuff pinned up there.
I had nothing pinned up, because all the pins were his.
If I took a pin, he hit me.
I never thought to ask for pins.
If I had, he’d have taken them all.
Monster.
Packaging
There’s a saying in social media that if you can’t tell what the product is, then the product is you.
Especially when you wake up in the morning and find yourself sealed in a plastic case that’s hard to open.
If you thought opening those things up was hard to do from the outside, you should try to do that from the inside.
Who sleeps with a boxcutter or a sharp pair of scissors in their pocket?
I do, because there’s no telling when someone will package you up.
(Just don’t stab your mother when she tucks you in, okay?)
Billy Billy
Billy’s last name is Billy.
Call him Billy Billy.
But don’t be surprised if he tells you that you have his name backwards.
“Yllib Yllib?” you ask.
He likes that joke. But don’t push it.
We don’t want to freak Billy out, because he knows where his father buried all the money.
We tried to beat the answer out of his father. Didn’t work.
Then we threatened to beat Billy with him watching.
That almost worked. Except that when we asked Billy where the money was, he knew.
We’ll dig up the money.
And bury Billy with his daddy there.
The Ugly Duckling
Once upon a time, there was a duck’s nest full of eggs.
They all hatched at the same time.
One of the babies was uglier than the rest, and the others picked on him.
As they all grew up, the ugly baby didn’t sprout feathers and a beak.
Instead, he grew shiny scales, pointy teeth, and wickedly sharp foreclaws.
Because he was a velociraptor.
One day, a duck made a comment about how ugly he looked.
The velociraptor slashed his head off, and he ate the duck.
Then, he killed and ate all of the judgmental little bastards.
How delicious!
The Master
I am the Dungeon Master.
I hide behind a screen and roll dice to determine your fate.
I have a module behind the screen which has a map and encounters in it.
I read a manual full of monsters that want to kill and eat you.
I can’t let you see any of these because you aren’t allowed to.
You are players. Not Dungeon Masters.
You’re supposed to go on adventures, not run adventures.
Stop trying to peek at my map. Make your own with your pencils and graph paper.
Your mom made Pizza Rolls?
Okay, maybe one little peek.