Category: My stories

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?

Written In Rock

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Don’t believe Rick Springfield’s lies when he sings “Nothing’s written in rock.”
Some things are written in rock. And they do last forever.
It’s when things are written in ice cream that they don’t last.
Sure, that gigantic two-ton fudge sundae that says “Happy birthday, Morty” on the side looks like it could survive a Japanese invasion fleet, but the truth is that it can barely withstand the coordinated assault of a kindergarten class armed with nothing but spoons and their appetites.
In fact, that’s what Pearl Harbor was supposed to be, until the Japs realized that children don’t explode.

Some stains

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Some stains don’t come out easily.
No, I’m not talking about grape juice stains. We get enough of those in the clothes people donate through us.
I’m talking about spiritual stains. Echoes of misery and agony, soaked into the fabric beyond the reach of any detergent.
Put on a haunted suit, the wedding goes bad.
Put on a haunted ball cap, you get headaches.
Put on a haunted dress, your tits sag.
That’s why we use a laundry that has a full-time exorcist on staff. Removes the curses.
But if you don’t pay, we can always put them back in.

Radio Free Hell

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Silvia’s parents thought she was retarded, but her inattentiveness was due to constant buzzing in her ears.
Despite the doctors’ many treatments, it grew worse over time.
Many years later, Silvia learned about meditation, slowing herself down to manage pain.
The buzzing slowed to a ringing, and then… a stream of voices.
‘Why did you kill me, Arthur?”
“It’s not fair.”
“The pain!”
“I’ll see you in Hell.”
Radio Free Hell. In her skull.
Then, she heard them…
“We wasted our lives worrying for her.”
Her parents. In Hell.
She drove knitting needles into her ears and embraced the silence.

The Wacky Adventures Of Abraham Lincoln 56

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Abe firmly believed that if he forfeited the confidence of his fellow citizens, he could never regain their respect and esteem.
First, he promised candy. Lots of it.
Nobody fell for that. They never did.
Then he offered flowers to everyone. Some people warmed to his overtures, but they saw that he’d given out flowers to everyone and thought even worse of the desperate president.
Finally, he sent soldiers around to beat everyone up.
Sure, they didn’t regain their respect and esteem, but they sure as hell feared him.
“Good enough for me,” said Abe.
What a bully he was.