Category: My stories

The Monkeys

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Bill bred the monkeys specifically for manual dexterity and docile temperament.
The typewriters, hauled out of some warehouse, just needed dusting and fresh ribbons.
Writers Guild representatives caught wind of Bill’s plan and used everything short of poisoning the banana supply to stop him.
Despite these evil schemes, Bill persevered, and his simian legions grew.
And produced.
At first, random garbage was the result. Lots of stained, crumbled sheets of typing paper covered with garble.
Then, smashed typewriters and the occasional dead monkey.
They never did manage to produce Shakespeare, but made a fine line in Bill’s obituary years later.

Abandoned Baby

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There was a knock at the door, and the dogs in the back yard barked like bad.
“Shut up,” said Arthur. “It’s not dinnertime yet.”
The dogs barked louder.
Arthur walked to the front door, and opened it. When he looked down, he saw a baby in a basket.
No note.
“You don’t have a name?” said Arthur. “Let me think of a name for you…”
Arthur picked up the basket, went to the back yard, and tossed the baby to the hungry dogs.
“Your name is dinner,” said Arthur.
Arthur put the basket in the bathroom to store magazines.

The Magician

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No outs, bottom of the ninth. The team is one run up, but the bases are loaded.
The manager comes out of the dugout, takes the ball from the pitcher, and waves to the bullpen.
The doors open, and Mysterio The Great strolls out, magnificent in his top hat and red-lined black cloak.
The next thing the crowd knows, there are three outs. The game is over, Mysterio gets the save.
The crowd, apprehensive and confused at first, eventually realizes their team has won, and they cheer wildly.
Mysterio bows, waves his wand, and disappears in a puff of smoke.

Not The Same

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The suicide bomber only managed to kill one person when he blew himself up at the sidewalk café: the security guard who kept him from killing more.
The bomber exploded in the guard’s embrace, both dying at the same time.
Both shared something else in common: the same exact type of cell phone. Down to the ringtone.
The guard’s widow got the phone of the bomber, and the bomber’s widow got the phone of the guard.
Neither noticed the difference or ever charged the batteries on the bloody devices. They just sat on memorial shelves, occasionally taken down for dusting.

Nosferatu

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Want to know the truth about Nosferatu?
He wasn’t a vampire. He was just really pissed off.
Imagine, going to the carnival or a gift shop and looking for a personalized mug with your name on it… they have John and Mary and Susan and Joe, and Bob and Kent and…
And no Nosferatu.
If you ask the salesman, he asks you to repeat it. So you have to repeat it. Twice. Pretty soon, you’re shouting it and waving your hands around crazily.
See? That’s how it happens.
Now get me a fucking Laurence mug! Not W, with a U!

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.”

The Wacky Adventures Of Abraham Lincoln 57

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Abraham Lincoln put down his afternoon sandwich, rubbed his temples, and moaned.
“What’s wrong?” asked Mary Todd. “Is Congress bothering you again?”
Abe nodded. “It’s those thickheaded fools. I cannot make it better known than it already is that I strongly favor colonization.”
“Well, you know what I do when I want you to remember something,” said Mary Todd.
Abe scratched his head. “No, I don’t.”
“You silly goose, I stick a note in your sandwich,” said Mary Todd.
Abe picked up his sandwich, opened it, and read the note inside:
“QUIT EATING THESE DAMN NOTES BEFORE YOU READ THEM!”

Alarming behavior

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Typical alarm clocks can be turned off with a single button.
On the other hand, the alarm clock function on my cell phone requires me to hit… let’s see: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 buttons.
Of course, there’s the much simpler option to press and hold the power button to turn the phone completely off before the alarm sounds.
I suppose that’s why I pulled out my phone at 10:30 today and it’s completely off.
Which is why I got a watch. To tell time when my cell phone is off.
This is how my mind works. Or, in this case, fails to work.

Below Average

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Unlike our neighbors’ kids, all of the children in Lake Whybehere are below average. They’re all good children, but just a little behind the curve. A few seconds late off the starting blocks in the game of life.
Their conversations are enthusiastic, but babble. Their play is confused and often ends in medical treatment.
Most suffer from lethargy, but a few demonstrate occasional spunkiness. Like running in circles with scissors faster than usual.
Maybe there’s something in the water. The power plant dumps an awful lot of crap into Lake Whybehere.
Perhaps we’ll dump it in Wobegone from now on.

Where there’s smoke, there’s Walter

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The old saying goes “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
Around here, it goes “Where there’s smoke, there’s Walter.”
Walter smokes. Walter smokes a lot.
I can’t remember any time when I’ve seen Walter not smoking.
Once, I saw Walter asleep at a bar, and his hand reached into his mouth, pulled out his exhausted cigarette, stubbed it out in the ashtray, pulled another from his pack, lit it, and stuck it in his mouth.
Which is why I opened up the coffin and stuck a cigarette in his mouth.
How was I to know someone had dowsed him in gasoline?