Category: My stories

Horseman 3000

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The company spent half a billion dollars developing the cure. Heck, we spent millions coming up with the brand name:
Revivalyfe.
Pretty, isn’t it? And a lovely shade of sky blue.
All we need is a disease for it.
Relax – manufacturing diseases is child’s play, thanks to the old Horseman 3000. Just tap in the symptoms, decide on a vector, sync up Revivalyfe’s cure profile, and turn the key.
Five hours later, you’ve got your disease.
What? The DEATH button is still sticking?
I’ll call Maintenance… just hold on…
Strange. No answer.
Okay, just hit CANCEL for now…
Cancel! CAN-

Route 666

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Saint John Chrysostom once said that the road to Hell is paved with the skulls of priests.
Know what? It is. And those things’ll tear your tires up in less than a mile.
That’s why my truck has runflats.
I make this trip every few weeks for someone or another that wants me to grab a relative before they pass through the gates.
Few people know where the off-ramp is for Route 666, but if you’ve got the jack then I’ve got the beer.
Sure your daughter’s worth all this?
Okay, then – buckle up. It’s going to be rough.

The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln 63

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“The bare sight of 50,000 armed and skilled black soldiers on the banks of the Mississippi would end the rebellion at once,” said Lincoln to his vice president.
“We don’t have that many,” said Johnson.
“How many do we have?” said Lincoln.
“Five,” said Johnson. “Maybe six. And they’re not well-trained at all.”
So Lincoln ordered 50,000 white soldiers to cover themselves with shoe polish.
General Robert E. Lee watched them through his spyglass, moaned.
The troops marched to a ford in the river and crossed.
The shoe polish had washed away.
“I see,” said Lee, and he ordered CHARGE!

They’re Driving Me Nuts

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Steve never made appointments. He just showed up at the doctor’s, barged past the receptionist, and walked into the examination room.
If it was occupied, he’d tell the patient to leave.
He was Steve, damnit it!
Dr. Parker sighed. “Well, you sure have a lot of balls showing up here like that.”
“Very funny,” said Steve, dropping his pants. “All I want to keep is two. Just two.”
“I told you before, I’d have to remove them all,” said the doctor. “But I could give you a pair of brass ones.”
Steve said no, and felt the sling cinch tighter.

Now It Puts Down The Pad Thai Or It Gets The Hose

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Tired with trying to figure out what He was thinking with the platypus, God decided to check the mail.
He walked up to The Wall and pulled a note through the stones.
“Oh dear god, what is that smell?”
God stepped back and sniffed.
Rotten… sweet… fish?
“Jesus!” he groaned, looking at His son. “What the Hell is that crap you’re wearing?”
“Wearing?” said Jesus. “Oh, no. I was working on a Pad Thai and… I must have splashed myself with the fish sauce!”
God grumbled, got out the hose, and said:”Now don’t go turning this into wine, kid…”

Me And My HALO

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Before, there were gangs and shootings. You wouldn’t last a block without getting roughed up.
But now, it’s quiet and peaceful. Lot of folks out walking, saying hello to each other.
And smiling. That’s one thing I missed before the old days – I missed all the smiling.
Everybody’s an angel with a HALO over their heads.
In addition to suppressing violent tendencies, they’re great as portable light sources.
I’m walking to the corner store for a gallon of milk. Maybe some gum.
Have you fixed my HALO? I’d hate for it to glitch.
Those Sentries can be rough on Heathens.

Testing Sam

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Mommy took Sam to Sears for new mittens, but he saw video games and ran over to play with them.
Usually, Mommy came after him and scolded him not to run away.
Not this time.
The game was boring, so Sam went back to where he ran away from Mommy.
She… wasn’t there.
Sam tugged on a clerk’s sleeve. “I’m lost.”
They announced Sam’s name over the speaker.
An hour went by. Two.
Sam also gave them his address and phone number.
Disconnected. An empty lot.
From inside a coat display, Mommy watched.
And tried not to laugh too loudly.

Crosstown Rivals

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Smithtown and Ft. Rileysburg had a nasty crosstown rivalry.
Football games were bloodbaths.
Bake sales were bloodbaths.
Even the bathhouses were bloodbaths.
So when Smithtown hung a horse thief, Ft. Rileysburg had to go and hang two of them.
Smithtown hung three railroad men who didn’t tip well.
Ft. Rileysburg hung a barbershop quartet just for “dressing dapper.”
The hangings escalated, and pretty soon every lamp post had a corpse swinging from it.
Then… no more hangings.
It was time for a bake sale. Everyone ran to their kitchens.
Word of advice: avoid the Kidney Pie.
You’ll thank me later.

The Wacky Adventures Of Abraham Lincoln 62

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The Presidential Alchemist lifted the curtain and revealed a tiny box of gearworks.
“What does it do?” asked Lincoln.
“It turns slave soil into free soil,” said the Alchemist. “Let me demonstrate.”
He poured dirt into the hopper, turned the crank, and withdrew a dirt-filled drawer.
“See?” said the Alchemist.
Abe looked at the dirt.
Abe felt the dirt.
Abe even smelled the dirt.
“I suppose it is free soil,” said Lincoln. “How soon can you build a full-sized model?”
“It is full size,” said the Alchemist. “And it’s the only one that works.”
Abe sighed, shrugged, and started cranking.

Poking Parker

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Parker screwed up. Nearly got me killed.
“Poke him, Chief” said Vasquez.
Everybody agreed.
So, before my shift, I went to the Suit Room and poked a hole in Parker’s moonsuit.
Relax – the airlock cycles quickly. Long before he blows out. One tiny hole will just whistle a bit at Zero A.
I laughed as he cycled… and he blew out fast.
Blowout? I must have poked the moonsuit too deep.
Crap.
As Crew Chief, Parker died on my watch, so it was on me.
I confessed about poking Parker.
Vasquez also confessed. And Petersen. And Goldberg. And Sanders. And…