Category: My stories

METRO

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Imagine a disgusting, ferocious parasite.
This creature feeds on time, and when it lands on you, it sucks out twenty-five minutes of your life and flies away.
Every day, this creature comes, and no matter how hard you run or scream for it to stop, it keeps coming back.
Again, twenty-five minutes. Gone forever.
Oh, and its owner does nothing about it.
You’d be pissed off, wouldn’t you?
To me, this creature wears a METRO uniform. It is a bus driver who races through his route, several minutes early.
And leaving me behind, waiting twenty-five minutes for the next bus.

The Water

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It’s raining again. The power is out, and I can’t find the candles.
I look out the window at the darkness.
There’s leaves and branches in the drain along the street, and the water is backing up.
If it keeps raining like this, the street will flood. Then, the water will crawl up the sidewalk and work its way up to the door.
When the water knocks on the door, I will answer it.
“Hello, water,” I will say. “Welcome to my home.”
The water will glide over the doormat and into my front hall.
I enjoy having guests over.

Sailing To Freedom

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Slaves dream of freedom like the starving dream of food.
I pondered this as I went below decks to check on our passengers.
Well, they were more like cargo, to tell the truth.
The shifting of chains in the darkness. A moan. A shout.
Never singing. They were too sick to sing.
Poor bastards.
Regulations called for a mid-trip survival check, but nobody was crazy enough to walk in the middle of that sea of savagery.
I closed the hatch and asked the navigator: “How much longer?”
“Two days, and we’ll see the Liberian coast,” he said.
And then, freedom.

The Even Wackier Adventures of Abraham Lincoln 1

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Abe said he was feeling ill and unable to join Mary Todd at church.
“Honey, a little religion might make you feel better”, said Mrs. Lincoln
“It will not do to investigate the subject of religion too closely, as it is apt to lead to Infidelity.”
Mary Todd, noticed what looked like Mr. Speed approaching the house furtively through the alley.
“No dear, not today it aint!” replied Mrs. Lincoln as she took her oversized family bible and slammed it between her husband’s legs.
Upon hearing the screams, Joshua Speed, decided maybe he should go to church this particular Sunday.

Missing Milk

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Someone stole a milk carton out of my refrigerator.
So, I glued a photo of it to a bunch of children in the neighborhood.
There was a caption, too:
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MILK CARTON?
It took nine months and two million dollars, but I eventually tracked down my milk carton.
There was no milk left in it when the detectives found it.
Whether its captor had consumed the milk or they had tossed it out because the milk had gone bad, we’ll never know.
But, really, thank God it’s home.
I think I’ll make a boat out of it.

Cookie Crumbles

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“That’s the way the cookie crumbles,” said Doctor Odd’s mother.
“Why?” asked the Child Odd.
He was eight. Young, but still the sapling that would grow into the mad scientist the world would fear.
“I don’t know,” said his mother.
From that point on, Doctor Odd begged for cookies – demanded them.
Mother Odd gladly provided, watching her son meticulously test each batch, suggest adjustments to the recipe, and come up with various cookie-crumbling techniques.
On her deathbed, Mother Odd asked her son what he’d discovered from all this research.
Doctor Odd smiled and patted her hand. “I prefer brownies.”

Dancing in the Drunk

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Australians call it Waltzing Matilda.
Japanese call it Saki Hop Susie.
And the Jews call it Horah With Hierschel.
Let’s face it: you’re drunk, and you want to dance.
Feel the dance inside you. Let it rise through your pores and take control.
Good. Now you’re dancing.
If you feel your stomach gurgling, you can take a break. Just bend over and let it flow.
Until then, dance… dance like you’ve never done it before.
Just do me a favor, okay?
Dance over here in the parking lot. You’re holding up traffic out there in the middle of the road.

Cleveland

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When people ask me where the bad man touched me, I tell them: “Cleveland.”
He touched me in Cleveland.
It could have happened anywhere, really.
Dallas, Chicago, Denver… but there was a huge storm in Buffalo that night. So the airline diverted the flight in Cleveland and forgot about us.
No hotel rooms.
No food.
Nothing.
We dragged chairs together and slept in the terminal.
And that’s when the bad man touched me.
In Cleveland.
And I liked it.
In fact, I’m going back to Cleveland next week.
We’ll see if the bad man is there, too.
I hope so.

Floor-Thumper

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The Reverend was in his office, practicing his bible-thumping, when he felt an odd sensation in his chest.
Two seconds later, he hit the floor with a thump, dead.
Upon arrival in Heaven, Jerry was expecting a harp, halo, and wings.
Instead, St. Peter slid a piece of paper and a pen across the table.
“Please sign this,” he said.
“What is it?” said Jerry, adjusting his glasses.
“It’s a nondisclosure agreement,” said St. Peter. “Please sign it so we may proceed.”
Jerry signed it.
“Good,” said St. Peter, putting the paper in his briefcase. “Have a nice trip down.”

Asteroids

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We watched in horror as a series of artificial asteroids splashed into the ocean.
I looked over the document on my desk, compared the trajectories, and confirmed that this was no natural strike.
It had been planned.
Swamping a few oil tankers and cruise ships was purely by coincidence. This was really meant as a warning to… to…
Nobody’s sure who had the wherewithal to grab asteroids and huck them with such accuracy at the earth. Nobody was expecting this, and any guidance systems burned up in the atmosphere.
I lean over to my wastepaper basket and shred the document.