Tag: mystery

Pay Your Respects

612177

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

656689

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.

Stairway To Heaven

504813

Lisa walked up the staircase for weeks until she reached Heaven.
She knocked twice on the door, waited for a moment, and then knocked three more times.
The door creaked open and a bearded man poked his head out.
“What is it?” asked the old man.
“Why?” asked Lisa.
The old man scratched his beard and thought for a moment.
“There was a lot left over from my first project, so I decided to build something with the scraps,” he said, and then he leaned back and closed the door.
Lisa sat on the staircase for a while and pondered.

Oliver’s Obsession

792735

As soon as Oliver noticed the burnt-out bulb in the vanity mirror, he ran for the utility closet.
It was full of light bulbs. The obsessed Oliver hated burnt-out bulbs.
Just as he pulled out a replacement, the power went out.
That wouldn’t stop Oliver, however.
Feeling each bulb, he tried to tell which was burnt-out. But none felt warm.
He unscrewed each one, shaking it hard… no telltale jingle, either.
So Oliver sat on his bathroom countertop for three hours until the lights came back on.
They did. All of them. No burnt-out bulb.
He replaced them all, anyway.

The Monkeys

884764

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.

The Magician

765177

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.

Alarming behavior

393251

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.

Where there’s smoke, there’s Walter

477071

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

462368

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.

Radio Free Hell

495848

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.