Tag: cliche

Imperfection

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Try as you might, perfection never lasts.
The moment you come close to perfection, the imperfections stand out in contrast so clearly.
That makes it easier to find and remove them, and makes the remaining imperfections stand out even more clearly.
The knife is steady, but the flesh resists. One final flaw, and this girl will be the pinnacle of existence.
I put the knife down. I will not cut.
No, there will be no scar. I don’t need lasers like others do, but my work is always perfect.
Perfection, averted twice, laughs and hides in the shadows once again.

The Candy Prince

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The Candy Price sits on his chocolate bunny, watching the troops walk past.
His lemondrop eyes glisten in admiration of his army.
“March, my men!” he cheers, and the army raises a shout.
A gumdrop button falls from his Marzipan coat. He has been outside for too long today.
He returns to his palace, inspecting his frosting hair in the mirror.
“I am coming apart!” he cries to his butler. “Help me!”
He tries to change suits, but feels something snap.
The chef-surgeon arrives, but shakes his head.
“So, how do you feel about being The Candy Princess?” he offers.

Van Helsing

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Van Helsing delivered the fatal stake to Dracula’s heart and laughed.
As he boasted at the local pub, the townsfolk reacted not in gratitude, but in shock.
“Are you saying you killed that nice old Count?” the barkeep asked.
“He paid my son’s way through college,” said an old woman. “And had the hunch in his back fixed, too.”
Before he could respond, Val Helsing’s wrists were locked in irons.
“What for?” he said.
“Murder,” said the constable.
“But Dracula was already dead!” said Van Helsing.
The excuse didn’t work with the judge either.
Van Helsing was hung at dawn.

Talk is cheap

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It used to be that talk was expensive. Only the nobles and politicians could afford to say anything while their servants and peasants were condemned to silence.
Some say that Hiram Gabsalot invented talk, but he didn’t: he just came up with a new industrial process to make it downright cheap.
Pretty soon, everyone was talking all the time. (Some people even talked in their sleep… something unheard of in the days when talk was as priceless as gold!)
The nobles and politicians eventually stopped talking altogether, choosing to use spokesmen to add to the constant barrage of meaningless drivel.

Caulk

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I stood over the sheriff with my caulking gun, a ribbon of white goo still swinging from the nozzle.
The sheriff was confused. “Do you know how hard it’s going to be to get this crap out of my shirt?”
Not hard at all if you know what you’re doing.
You see, I run the town’s drycleaning shop.
Caulk is easy to get out of a shirt. Easier than blood.
That’s why I gunfight with a caulking gun.
He gets up, draws his gun, and shoots me.
Great. A huge bloodstain on my shirt.
This’ll be a bitch to fix.

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.

The Garage

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Hewlett-Packard was founded in a garage. So was Apple.
Famous Amos started in his kitchen.
Me, I start businesses all over this house.
The bank began in the bathroom, consulting firms in the crawl space, and my shed led to the creation of a quarter of the Fortune 500.
If you look in the dishwasher, you’ll see some venture capitalists checking the industry broadsheets, looking for good investments.
It’s getting harder to find good talent, so I’m founding a business school in my pants.
Care to check out my generous endowment?
Um… try again, stupid. It’s in my back pocket.

The Chicken Channel

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The cable is out.
Ever since the conversion to digital signals, the cable has been rock-solid. And…
It’s back? That was pretty quick.
Usually, it takes hours. That was just a few seconds.
For a moment, I swear I saw…
A chicken?
We have a digital recorder, so I rewind the tape… Hah, all these anachronistic terms.
Anyway, I go back and…
A chicken. Staring out from the screen.
It is a powerful, bold chicken. It is a majestic, God-like chicken. I am ready to do as it commands.
And I am filled with the overwhelming urge to eat… BEEF!

Pot Of Gold

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The Leprechauns lost their gold to humans who followed rainbows right to them.
Leprechauns have long memories and even longer lives, so they worked with what little they had left to make real estate deals and investments to build up their fortunes once more.
Late-night advertisements offered cash for gold, luring desperate humans to mail the shiny metal back to the Leprechauns.
They learned their lesson with the rainbow-attracting pots, and built massive secure vaults deep under Ireland to store their treasure.
To keep the curious humans at bay, they set out a few pots filled with poison-coated Iron Pyrite.

Sushi dealer

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The dealer skillfully floats the cards, gently landing in a pile in front of each of us.
He stands there with arms at rest, waiting for the first bet.
We stare back at him.
He doesn’t blink.
“We ordered sushi,” I said. “What’s with the cards?”
The plastic on the cards is starting to melt into the cooking surface of the table.
We look at each other. Did we go to a Japanese restaurant or a casino?
The cards are a mess.
Somewhere, in Vegas, a sushi chef is waving knives around.
He’ll probably get better tips than our dealer.