Using laxatives to lose weight is a bad idea.
Not only will you drain your body of essential nutrients, but you’ll damage your fragile digestive tract.
And then there’s the possibility that you’ll shit out your soul.
Most people notice when it’s slipped out. Treat it like a knocked-out tooth: keep it moist, and get to a priest. They’re in the Yellow Pages.
If you accidentally flush your soul away, that’s just too bad. Just be sure to wash your hands, and there’s plenty of jobs available to you: Wall Street banker, politician, and Department of Motor Vehicles window clerk.
Tag: dirty
The Crooked Tree
Tom Waits used to tell the story of a forest full of tall, perfect trees, and one fucked-up crooked tree among them.
The perfect trees all got on the crooked tree’s case.
“Be like us!” they said. “Grow tall and straight and perfect like us.”
The crooked tree laughed, and just got more twisted.
Eventually, the perfect trees were all chopped down for lumber.
Tom said that the lumberjacks left that crooked tree alone, but we all know that Tom’s a liar.
That tree got chopped up for firewood, and popped and hissed as it burned in the logger’s camp.
The Scapegoat
God watched Abraham carry his son Isaac up the mountain.
“Seriously?” mumbled Jesus. “You going to let him to this?”
God tried to stifle a laugh. “Nah, I’m just testing him.”
“Dad,” said Jesus. “You’re a dick.”
God scowled. “Oh, shut up. I’ll stop him before he stabs the kid.”
“Would you do this kind of thing to me?” asked Jesus.
“Of course not,” growled God.
Abraham put down his son and felt around for his knife.
Shit. Left it at home.
So, he picked up the kid and dashed his brains out on the rocks.
“Oh fuck,” said God.
Slowdown
It’s been a while since I last threw up.
Over time, you learn how much you can drink, how much you can eat, and what disagrees with you.
You also learn not to move too quickly. Take it slow and easy. No more two stairs at a time. No more one stair with each step. You’re hauling yourself up the handrail, taking each step as you can.
You miss the days you could do this without running out of breath halfway up. You wish to be young again.
Then you see it. The light.
Over the elevator.
Fuck the stairs.
Trees
I needed some foliage in my office to liven things up, but there’s no way I’d get sunlight back in this corner, nor would I remember to water the plants.
So, I bought a set of artificial trees and plants, and I arranged them around my desk and bookshelves.
A stuffed woodpecker had built a nest in the tree while I was away at lunch.
“Very funny guys,” I said.
The next day, the flowers had been ravaged by a stuffed bunny rabbit, and stuffed beavers had chewed down the trees to make a dam by the copier.
Fucking bastards.
Kissing Booth
I know a girl so ugly, when she sits in the kissing booth, guys pay to kiss the booth.
But then, when that girl was replaced by a hot girl, the guys still kissed the booth.
That’s because the booth was made from bacon. And despite guys kissing that booth all day long, leaving their slobber and germs on the bacon, they kept coming.
The hot girl got offended by the attention the booth was getting, so she put on a bacon bikini.
She collected a fortune that way. And ran off with it.
Never hire hookers for charity fundraisers.
I wanted to be a dancer…
I wanted to be a dancer, but I couldn’t dance.
Instead, I was a choreographer. I made the dances that the dancers danced.
Then, I was a costumer. I made the costumes that costumed the dancers as they danced my dances.
For a while, I was a producer, producing the productions in which the dancers danced my dances while costumed in my costumes.
Was this enough?
No.
I directed.
I composed.
I designed.
I even catered the opening nights.
But all the while, I wanted to be a dancer.
Oh well. At least I got to fuck them all, right?
Hobson
Long ago, a stable owner named Hobson insisted that customers take the horse closest to the stable door so his best horses wouldn’t get worn out.
Some customers protested, but in the end, horses are horses, right?
If a horse caused problems, he sold it or slaughtered it for meat.
Things went well for many years, until he decided to sell the stable and retire.
For the rest of his life, Hobson spent his time whoring it up at the local brothel.
Whenever Hobson came by, they lined up by the door.
And he fucked whatever whore he wanted to.
Shelf
I started with a bottle of wine.
Then, I turned the lights down low.
Tonight’s going to be special.
I took the Philip Glass CD down from the shelf and put it into the player.
Then, when the moment was right, I pulled the shelf from the wall.
The screws popped loose after a few tugs.
I wiped the dust off of the shelf and gave it a long, deep kiss.
Oh yeah.
The next day, I met up with my ex and told her all about it.
“I told you to go fuck yourself,” she said. “Self, not shelf.”
Buh Bye
I am flying home from a conference in Atlanta.
While I looked out of the window of the plane, I noticed a few strands of hair stuck in a seam of the window shade.
They were a dark amber, thin, and very long.
I tried to imagine who they might belong to.
Maybe some girl going back home for spring break?
Or some woman flying to a business meeting?
Perhaps they were from some stewardess, getting screwed against the cabin wall during a long and boring flight?
No, that’s not right.
They prefer to be called “flight attendants” these days.