Category: My stories

The Pain Bank

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They called it a pain bank.
Just like blood banks store blood and sperm banks store sperm, pain banks store pain.
From pinpricks and itches through agonizing toothaches all the way up to the worst gut-wrenching, torture imaginable, they had every kind of pain in their massive iron vaults.
Suffering too much pain? Put in a deposit.
Feeling detached, or looking for a little masochistic rush? Head to an ATM. Make a withdrawal.
Feel something. Feel something really bad for a while.
Getting over the pain is the biggest rush, you know.
Just don’t fall behind on your interest payments.

Virus Scam

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After years and years of progressively malicious computer viruses and worms, the anti-virus program manufacturers finally managed to make deals with computer manufacturers, Internet service providers, and governments that installation of their software was not only necessary, but mandatory by law.
It was right around then that the activity of virus writers dropped off. What used to be a constant cat and mouse game of escalation between those trying to punch holes with exploits and those reinforcing them became a ceasefire.
Eventually, it became a formal partnership.
After all, without barbarians at the gates, who needs the gates? Or walls?

For my wewewedding

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Sarah and Jake stuttered badly, so they found a stuttering priest for their wedding.
Cute, right?
Not exactly.
The ceremony was five hours long. Two bridesmaids and a groomsman fainted from the heat.
After careful review of the videotape, we believe the happy couple were actually married to each other. Or the father of the bride to his daughter. We do know for a fact that the Maid Of Honor ended up married to the six year-old ring bearer and the ushers married to each other.
As for the vows, we have no freaking idea what they promised each other.

Know It All

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Something snapped in Daniel’s mind. He went from inventorying office supplies to killing everyone in cold blood.
The carnage at the office was worse than you could possibly imagine.
As he stood over his trembling soon-to-be-ex boss, Daniel fumbled through all of his pockets.
“What are you looking for?” asked the boss.
“I’m looking for the bullet with your name on it,” said Daniel. “I swear I had just a minute ago.’
“Maybe it’s already loaded in the gun,” said his boss. “Did you check?”
Daniel checked. Sure enough, it was.
“You fucking know-it-all asshole,” said Daniel, aiming and firing.

Where Math Is Feared

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Every year, children who question the importance of mathematics are taken on a field trip to the math-challenged Duchy of East Rosemarch.
The town square only has three sides. No two streets are the same width. The currency constantly changes value, causing economic chaos. Felons are let out of jail at random times.
Most kids realize the simple lesson of the Duchy, but there’s always a few dim bulbs that find the experience enticing and captivating.
They usually end up living in the Duchy when they get older, joining the society of math-phobic fools in perpetual numerical and geometric madness.

Chadwick

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Baron Chadwick stood at the parapet at sundown and serenaded the moon with the strains of violin music.
For hundreds of years, the moon rewarded him with restful sleep and another day of life.
He keep the arrangement a secret, quietly changing servants every decade or so.
But one morning, Chadwick awoke to find his violin and butler gone.
He watched the creases reappear on the backs of his hands throughout the day. As the sun went down, he felt the telltale aches and pains.
Chadwick pulled his the spare violin and played… with the same old ancient magical bow.

Two Knights

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Two knights lay in a pile of wrecked armor, shattered lances, and bent swords.
“Yield?” wheezed Sir Humphreys.
“Never,” coughed Sir Boltac.
Boltac looked around for a weapon to use, but they were all damaged.
“We could use fists,” suggested Humphreys.
“Fists are for knaves,” said Boltac. “We are men of honor.”
Humprheys agreed, and winced as he tried to get up.
“We must settle this somehow,” moaned Humphreys.
“Thumbwrestling honorable enough?” asked Boltac.
“Sure,” said Humphreys. “En garde!”
Dusk came, and two knights lay in a pile of wrecked armor, shattered lances, and bent swords, nursing their broken thumbs.

Pay Your Respects

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Why don’t we allow the press to photograph the coffins returning home?
It’s because we don’t want them being counted.
The truth is, very few of our boys are dying over there. Sure, a few of our boys get dinged up pretty bad, but we’ve recovered most of them and they insist on going back and fighting.
Still, we’ve got a contract for so many coffins, flags, and burial plots per quarter. And you know how the Pentagon is with negotiating contracts.
No room to store them all and the paperwork’s a bitch, so we might as well use ’em.

The Clockwork Timothy

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Timothy got a haircut once a month. He also went to the dentist, the doctor, and the optometrist once every six months.
Just like clockwork.
From the earliest he could remember, his mother taught him to keep the routine going. Shoes, clothes, recycling, bills, cleaning…
Like dozens of gears within his mind ticking away the constant countdown of Timothy’s life.
If he deviated from it by a single day, she’d throw a fit until he was back on schedule.
She even got him into the routine of visiting her grave on Fridays to lay flowers three years before she died.

Spooky Golf Course

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You’d think that a golf course built on a graveyard would be creepy, but once you get beyond the shock of spectral caddies and zombie groundskeepers it’s actually pretty nice. And a challenge to boot.
I have yet to lose a single ball there. No matter where I whack it, my caddy finds it. Isn’t that great?
You’ve got to be careful with summoning a caddy though. Light the candles in the wrong order or pause at the wrong moment during the spell, and you might end up summoning Satan.
He’s a lousy caddy. Chews club heads, keeps score wrong…