Tag: society

Leroy

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Leroy had a habit of shouting when he was angry. Glass-shattering loud.
Okay, so it’s not as much a habit as a reaction to stuff that angered him, but he yelled so loud, I swear you could hear it a mile away.
We took measurements, compared notes, and triangulated with satellite maps on Google. The distance you could hear Leroy shout was determined to be one Leroy.
If you were two Leroys away, you’d be twice the distance from Leroy as you could hear him shout.
But he could still pick up a phone, call you, and shout that way.

Green Monster

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The Yankees versus the Red Sox. What a classic matchup.
The big green monster was messing with left fielders tonight, too.
What? No… no, they were playing in Yankee stadium, not Fenway.
Oh, I’m talking about an actual big green monster. It was from outer space or some science lab.
Thing showed up, dropped over the fence, and started messing with the left fielder.
Cops tried to shoo it towards the dugout, but it messed with the cops, too.
Nobody messes with New York cops. They shot the crap out of it.
I think it’s in the hot dogs.
Mustard?

Struck Noon

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Every day at twelve, the clock struck Noon and the town went mad.
Fights and burnings – you name it. If there’s something wrong that a soul can do, when that clock strikes Noon it happens.
They tried to burn the clock tower down, but stone doesn’t burn. No door at its base, either, nor could they climb up it.
They tried ladders. As they reached the top, it was Noon, and they smashed the ladders to toothpicks.
Pits dug to undermine it or blast it up never got deep enough. Sledgehammers broke on the stone.
It’s almost Noon.
Listen closely.

Shouting

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Jerry tried to think of worse things to shout in a movie theater than “Fire!” He ran down the list in his notebook, shouting each one.
The theater owner didn’t appreciate his field research and banned him from the theater.
Never one to give up easily, he tried other theaters, but his face was on a printout at the box office.
So he went from town to town, but the theater chains caught on to his act.
Jerry became a master of disguise, using false noses and wigs and sunglasses to alter his appearance.
Eventually, the worst word became “JERRY!”

Cruel and Unusual

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“Anything you want for a last meal, Rufus?” asked the warden.
Rufus thought. “I’d like peanuts,” he said.
“Your lawyers say they’ll get another stay,” said the warden. “That makes eleven. A new record.”
“I wish they wouldn’t” said Rufus. “I’m tired. I wish this was done.”
Rufus didn’t get his wishes.
“Making you wait for these would be cruel and unusual,” said the warden, sliding a bag of peanuts through the bars.
Rufus waited until the warden left before mashing them up, rubbing them on his skin, and swallowing the rest.
His allergies worked fast. Gone in an hour.

Sad Sack of a Sacker

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Ronnie held the dented can in his hand. Just a few seconds earlier, it had rolled out of its sack, fell through a hole in his cart, and rolled under his foot.
Ronnie counted to ten and took a deep breath.
“Excuse me,” he said to the sacker. “This fell out.”
“So?” said the sacker.
“Can you get me another one?” asked Ronnie.
The sacker sighed deeply, turned around, and shuffled off to the Canned Vegetables aisle.
Three minutes later, he returned with a fresh can.
“Now shove it up your ass,” said Ronnie, pushing the cart out the door.

Screwball

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Ned held the ice pack to his head and realized that he’d been hit in the head with a foul ball every game he went to.
He pointed this out to the stadium’s medic.
“Interesting,” he said.
The next day, free season tickets arrived. Courtesy of the team.
Outfield boxes. Home run territory.
So, for the next home game, Ned sat in the stands and waited for a ball to hit him in the head for a home run.
In the fifth inning, a bat slipped out of a batter’s hands, flew 300 feet, and clocked Ned in the face.

Coyote

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It was Paco’s first time crossing the border, and he didn’t want to get caught
His cousins tried the desert route. Those that survived were caught and spent five months in jail, only to be bussed back home.
“Use the coyote,” said his grandmother. “He is a genius at crossing the border.”
Paco found the coyote. He handed him the money, and the coyote handed him a crash helmet.
“What is this for?” asked Paco.
“The catapult,” said coyote. “Our would you prefer the rocket roller-skates?”
Paco shrugged. “Who am I to question genius?”
“Supra-genius,” said the coyote. “Hold tight.”

Ulysses grants

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Ulysses sold Inspiration in a bottle.
Sure, it was ordinary tap water, and the bottles dingy beer bottles with cheap laser-printed labels glued on them crooked-like, but people desperate for Inspiration will pay anything for it.
Ulysses does his best bsiness on Artist’s Row in Midtown. He goes around collecting up empties like an old-fashioned milkman, leaving full bottles on the doorstep.
“I need a lot of Inspiration for tomorrow,” says a painter. “Twice the normal order.”
Ulysses grunts, marks a pad with a nub of a pencil, and pushes his cart down the alley.
Inspiration waits for no one.

Paranoia Sandwich

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Just as the simultaneous invention of the telephone led to a rivalry between Alexander Graham Bell and some Italian dude, apparently “my” sandwich is being claimed as the development of a shopkeeper in Kazakhstan.
Thieving foreign scum…
Hey, what would you rather eat: a Laurence Simon or an Abu Salam Abdul Khouri Al-Mohammed Jafari?
What’s in it? What’s in my sandwich? Well, there’s… wait a minute. I know what you’re trying to do…
You’re trying to steal my sandwich!
I know who you are… you’re an agent of Jafari. Well, I’m no fool. I won’t tell you a damned thing!