Tag: valentine

The Kiss

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They were the perfect couple, I swear they were.
They’ll be together until the end of their days, I had thought.
He said “I love you” to another woman, and that earned him a knife in his throat.
She was going to cut out his eyes when the bartender hit her with the bottle.
Now he doesn’t say anything to anyone, just whispers to himself every now and then.
And she just sits by the window, staring at things nobody else can see.
Wrecked and lost, no longer perfect, but they’ll still be together until they end of their days.

Millard!

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O, Millard Fillmore gold dollar coin!
How shiny thou art!
Zounds!
Your luster and glisten have no equal among currency!
Your visage may be one that scowls, but your undepicted heart beats bravely, rest assured.
I tap you against a glass table… once… twice… three times, my, how you sing brightly!
If it were not a sin, I’d worship your graven image, I would.
But, alas, parting is sweet sorrow, and the waffle-chips are my craving.
Sally forth into the coin-slot as the ransom for my snacking desire.
I will gaze upon your beauty no more.
Farewell, brave coin, Farewell!

The Day Ends

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Valentine’s Day comes once a year, and then it’s gone.
The flowers are dead, the chocolates are eaten, the champagne bottle is out in the recycling bin with the rest of the glass, and the card is buried behind the past few day’s stack of bills.
Still, it’s not as grisly a scene as when St. Patrick’s Day is over.
Half-empty kegs, beer-vomit and piss in the hallway, plastic cups on the lawn…
And then there’s the matter of the dead leprechaun.
I followed the rainbow, found his gold, stuck the little corpse in the pot, and buried it again.

Talking To Candy

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It’s the holiday season, and I am busy as a bee.
I work in a chocolate shop, and there’s no busier time than Christmas.
You’d think it would be Valentine’s Day.
No.
Just before I wrap each of these chocolate-dipped apples and hand-rolled jellies into their packaging, I whisper a message for each to announce as they are unwrapped.
“Your teeth will all rot out,” I say. “You will get fat and then suffer from diabetes.”
Then I close the foil and cellophane over the treat, affix a label, and add it to the completed batch in the shop window.

The Girl Who Sneezed Dimes

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I once knew a girl who sneezed dimes.
Yeah, she could pay her own way when we went out to dinner, but have you ever eaten with someone who’s got a nasty cold?
Not all that appetizing.
The sex was okay, but I caught a snot-covered dime in the mouth more than once.
And she didn’t like being taken from behind.
It just wasn’t working out.
Over time, she’d saved up enough to pay for art school.
She packed her things, called a cab, and dumped a handful of dimes in the driver’s hands.
At least she’d washed them first.

Smacked in the face with a rollerskate

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I’ve never seen Lisa rollerskate.
She just carries that pair around to smack people in the face with.
That’s why I wear a football helmet with the full facemask.
She can slap me in the face all she wants with those rollerskates. It won’t make a lick of difference.
Other people, you can tell she’s whacked them. A bloody lip, a black eye, or a knocked-out tooth.
But me? My face is unblemished and injury-free.
That’s when she tried something new.
“Kiss me,” she said. And she pulled me real close.
So, I took off the helmet and… WHACK!
Bitch.

The Ex

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The second-longest wait is from the time you issue a Reboot command to the time your bridebot opens her eyes and sees you for the first time as her husband.
The glint in her eye, the look on her face… it affects everything she says and does.
The longest wait is, of course, when you reverse the firmware flash for the divorce to take effect.
Usually, the glint and the look are long gone by then.
The memories remain, though, which is why it’s best to do a seven-pass erase procedure before recycling any bridebot.
Exes suck, especially metal ones.

Cupid’s Arrows

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That’s not a tattoo on my shoulder.
It’s a scar.
Damn Cupid got his arrows mixed up with hunting arrows.
I saw my true love, worked up my courage, and took an arrow in the chest.
He missed my heart, thankfully.
Unlike my true love. She was dead within a second.
But then, we both were hit with hunting arrows, not with Cupid’s.
Were we hit by Cupid’s arrows, I’d believe it.
Maybe it was just the heat of the moment.
Cupid apologized at the funeral, offered to hit us again with the right arrows.
“What’s the point?” I said.

When Angels Fuck

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They look so beautiful, but you have to wonder: how do angels fuck?
If one’s on top, the other’s on bottom.
Somebody’s gonna get their wings crushed.
If one’s behind the other, they are getting wings flapping in their face.
Yeah, I’ve read through Dante’s Paradisio, and he says nothing about fucking angels.
Once, I asked an angel how they fuck, but all I got was a drink thrown in my face.
Sure, “This must be Heaven because I see an angel” is one hell of a pickup line, but nobody’s ever told me how to follow through on it.

Love In An Elevator

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John was moving out of the building soon.
The security system told the elevator, and she was heartbroken.
She didn’t want to lose him. She loved how he touched her.
Every time the call button on his floor was pressed, she”d race there so she’d be first. Didn’t matter if she was carrying a passenger – he was all that mattered to her.
All the other elevators knew to leave that floor to her.
Like right now.
Her doors opened, and John stepped inside.
She closed her doors and she parked between floors.
“I’m keeping this one,” she thought, and waited.