Tag: dystopia

Commando

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A ghost ate my underwear.
That’s right. A ghost ate my underwear.
I cannot imagine my underwear being appetizing to any living or nonliving creature, but I woke up to the sight of a spectral entity eating my underwear.
I was too tired to be scared, so I just came out with it: “Why are you’re eating my underwear?”
“I don’t know,” said the ghost. “Got any more?”
I wanted to ask the ghost what the Afterlife was like, but he finished the last of my boxers and vanished.
So, can you exorcise my underwear drawer for me, Father O’Malley?

1701

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New Year’s at the Blue Line.
Well, for the goyim. Rosh Hoshana wouldn’t be for another nine months.
Across the border, yellow and green flags wave from watchtowers while masked men carry crates of ammunition into homes.
Watching them, soldiers with unloaded rifles and blue helmets sipped coffee and called home on cell phones.
“Wasn’t 1701 supposed to solve all this shit?” asked Lieutenant Tzivni.
In the distance, a muffled explosion echoed in the hills.
“Mine?” asked Tzivni.
“Cluster bomb,” said Goldman.
“Think we’ll get our boys back?” asked Tzivni.
Goldman watched the Bluehelmets nap, and he shook his head.

Israelisms

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As Charley and Carol sit down to record another podcast, another couple sits down in Gaza, puts their headphones on, and they begin to record.
After dispensing with the weather in q’ranic verse, Abdul and Fatima argue over the news of the day.
Well, Abdul talks and Fatima agrees, fearful of the sting of Abdul’s hand.
Oh, and their daughter Yasserina has joined the resistance! Allahu Ackbhar!
Then Fatima thanks everyone (including Mahmoud from Dearborn), wrap things up, and it’s time to upload.
What? The server isn’t connecting?
They forgot to pay their bill, but they still blame the Zionists.

Payback’s a Colossal Bitch

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Lady Liberty wanted to weep as she watched the towers burn.
Later that night, she pried loose the Emma Lazarus poem at her feet and read it for the first time.
Disgusted, she tossed it into the harbor.
“Go somewhere else, huddled masses,” she grumbled. “Pollute someone else’s shore.”
After careful thought, she decided to keep the torch and book.
The torch came in handy for seeing threats at night.
The book was great for whomping them.
After a few assaults on passing ships, the government shut the island down for “Security reasons.”
Eventually, she slept, and the tourists returned.

Down The Turtle Hole

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Sitting on the riverbank, Alice watched as the muttering turtle slowly pulled the pocketwatch from his shell and looked at the time.
“I’m… late….”
Alice walked over to the turtle and examined its curious markings.
“Why, his shell looks like a waistcoat,” she giggled.
“Stop… or…”
Alice’s sister knew a good turtle soup recipe, and by noon, they had the stew-pot boiling.
“So delicious it was,” they all said.
Alice checked the pocketwatch… still not time to go home yet.
She rested her head on a blanket and had herself a pleasant nap, totally lacking in chessboard and playingcard nightmares.

Volunteered

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Let’s not bullshit.
My kid needs your heart. Soon. We’re not sure how long he can hold on.
We’re not sure how long you can hold on, either.
Doctor says that you signed your organ donor card and didn’t want to be kept on life support, but your family trumped your wishes.
I’ve offered them money. They won’t take it.
Do I need to kill them, or just one to set an example and make them sign the forms?
I wish we could have met under better circumstances.
But for my kid’s sake, I’m still glad I ran you over.

Revenge Nog

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Edwin clutched his chest, wheezing what might have been words.
Iris wasn’t listening. She was just watching him, waiting for him to die.
He saw her emptying his pill case into the toilet, and his eyes went from surprise to anger.
For a moment, Iris considered calling 911.
She rubbed her arm where he’d last burned her, and decided to wait just a little longer.
Edwin had just enough fight left in him to get up from the chair and lunge at her.
She stepped back.
Some plastic surgery for the scars.
Yeah, that would be her gift to herself.

Party Time

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First, it was the rope. Damn thing was dry as dust and broke clean in half. We ended up using that bungee cord stuff.
Then there were the crosses. Nails kept falling out of the wood and all we had was sticks.
They wouldn’t burn, either. Wood was wet all the way through, so the kerosene wouldn’t catch.
We did manage to start a fire, though. Some kerosene got splashed Grand Kleagle’s robe at some point, and that bastard is in the burn ward now.
I gotta tell you, it was the worst goddamned lynching party I’ve ever been too.

Happy Coup Year

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I gotta tell you, it’s good to be king.
Man, what a party last night. Whole country was out saying goodbye to the old year and ringing in the new year.
Of course, those party-pooper rebels had to shoot up the decorations and my security guards.
Why do people insist on firing guns on New Years? Don’t they know that people get hurt that way?
It didn’t last long. My troops overwhelmed the guerrillas and they’re now in jail.
All I need to do is…
Ha ha ha… caught myself dating a death warrant with 2006.
Happy New Year, everyone.

Airport 2006

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We’re still not sure why, but the investigation concluded that the airport manager secretly replaced the supply of de-icing agent at Jefferson County Airport with Folger’s Crystals.
It didn’t take long to find out what would happen. Two executive jets froze up and crashed, and a third barely managed to get back on the ground.
The airport manager stuck a microphone in the pilot’s face. “Did you know that I substituted your de-icing agent with Folger’s Instant Crystals? Could you tell the difference?”
He’s in an insane asylum now, receiving plenty of medication.
And no instant coffee whatsoever, thank goodness.