Tag: sick

The End

636179

“Tell me a story, my beloved,” said the king, “Or the sun will shine over your headless corpse.”
Scheheradze smiled and recited the same story she’d told every night for the past three years.
The king was cruel, yes, but also senile.
He woke up every morning, free from memory of the day before.
So, when he’d ask for a story, it was always new to him.
Just once, she grew tired and changed it.
“Why did you change the story?” he said.
She was confused… frightened. He… knew?
He was laughing as she buried a dagger in his chest.

Nosebleed

636181

Ever have a nosebleed and then you sneeze?
It makes a really big mess. Especially if you sneeze on the carpet.
So, there I was, pinching my nose and holding my head back and aah aaah aaah choo!
Gigantic red splatters all over the bathroom mirror. Violent tendrils, splotches, and patterns I can see myself through.
Wicked awesome!
That’s when I got the idea to paint canvas with my blood.
Over and over, I’d pick my nose to get it nice and bloody. Then, I’d tickle a few nosehairs and… voila!
Yes, my friends, I truly bleed for my art.

It Takes A Thief

636188

It takes a thief to catch a thief.
That’s what the mayor said to the police chief when the crime rate threatened his re-election chances.
So, the police chief went to other towns, recruiting thieves.
He figured he should grab some rapists and murderers, too.
When the crime rate soared, the mayor lost the election and a new mayor took office.
The problem was, this guy was corrupt as hell.
The police chief wondered. It takes a mayor to catch a mayor?
He never got the chance, though. It took 10 hours for the coroner to find all the bullets.

Chorus

636178

Ever hear of the Falling Chorus of Ghastly Cliffs?
No? It’s a fascinating story.
Imagine a gigantic gleaning amphitheater set on the edge of a cliff.
As the city residents become old and weak, they join the line down Main Street to the chorus at the cliff.
When they reach the amphitheater, they sing for all they’re worth.
Some go for a few seconds. Others, for hours.
When they’re exhausted, helpers pick them off the ground and toss them over the edge.
Another takes their place. The choir goes on forever.
It’s beautiful, except for the screams and messy splatters.

Strewn at his feet

636190

It is a rule of the royal palace that everywhere our liege walks, rose petals must be strewn at his feet.
Sadly, the roses were killed by unexpected frost, and it will be months before new blooms can grow.
Our master lays in bed, tied up and angry.
“All I want to do is walk to the bathroom,” he growls.
“No,” I say. “We have no roses to strew at your feet. We must carry you.”
He sighs. He knows that he is no more important than the office, and with the office comes rules.
We tighten the ropes.

Twilight Years

636183

I’m not old, they tell me.
I’m in my Twilight Years.
They’re not lying, I tell them. They’re just full of shit.
I look like I’m in my eighties, but I’m really in my eight hundreds.
Been that way since I was… well, eighty.
I don’t know how and I don’t know why. I just know that I haven’t died yet and I don’t appear to be in any rush to.
Know that song Forever Young? Well, I’m Forever Old.
I get sick a lot. I feel tired, weak.
But it beats the hell out of the alternative, I guess.

Weatherman

636182

We’re a small town, barely a thousand people.
Everybody knows everybody else, or at least knows about them.
George is the town’s weatherman. Had a job at a big television station before he got sick of city life and retired here.
Well, maybe not retired. More like cracked up after blowing a bunch of forecasts, getting fired… drinking a lot.
Whatever. He’s a lousy weatherman, but the best we got.
When the tornado siren went off, he just laughed.
“No tornados today,” he said.
Those were his last words. During the cleanup, we found his body smashed against a tree.

Sloppy Fred

636183

Sure, you think you know all about the Sloppy Joe, but I knew Joe, and he wasn’t sloppy.
No, the real problem was the waiter Fred.
We called him Sloppy Fred.
Joe would make beef sandwiches and smack the bell. Fred grabbed the platter, and all hell would break loose.
Sauce this way. Sandwiches that way.
Sure enough, by the time he got to the table, he’d gotten them all messy.
Fred tried to blame Joe, the chef.
But he didn’t count on these things being a hit.
Joe killed Fred. Covered his tracks really good.
Not sloppy at all.

The Chart

636181

My doctor put down the chart and did a little happy dance.
“Does this mean I’m cured?” I ask.
“No,” says the doctor. “You’re not in fact, it’s terminal.”
“I’m going to die?”
“Yes, but not soon. In fact, it will be a long, painful, agonizing death.”
“Then what’s the dance for?”
“Nobody’s seen what you’ve got before.”
“Why is that good?”
“I’ll get it named after me,” he said. “I’ll be famous.”
He asked a nurse for a bottle of champagne. “Drink up, it can’t hurt. At least, I don’t think so.”
And he toasted to my bad health.

Billy the Kid

637596

Feelin’ lucky tonight?
William Bonney over in Accounting was a renegade CPA who settled down and went corporate.
But during Audit Season, the Call of the West got in his blood, and he became Billy the Billing Kid.
Forms? Ledgers? Books?
He’s put them all away and reached for his sixguns.
He’d shoot down lawyers and tax agents and all sorts of credit service representatives.
Accounts Payable and Accounts Receivable became Accounts Dead when he faced off with them on Main Street at High Noon.
Billy wasn’t killed by no sheriff.
Downsizing, man. It gets us all in the end.