“It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt,” said Abraham to the crowd.
“What if you just make silly faces?” said a carpenter.
“Um,” said Lincoln. “Er-”
“Or if you roll around in the street and chew horse manure?” said a lady with a broom.
“Well,” said Lincoln. “I mean-”
“Standing in the rain naked is foolish!” shouted a child.
Abraham stopped and stared.
I’m supposed to win the war with these clowns?
Man, he thought, I’m screwed. Let someone else run in 1864, I’m going the hell home.
There’s nothing left to eat but soup. Everything else went bad while I was out.
I put the least-dirty pot on the stove and light the burner.
No electricity here, so the electric can opener is useless.
There’s a manual can opener in the drawer. Looks a bit rusty.
What the heck. It’s worth a shot.
Or not. It breaks on the lid. And there’s no pull-tab on the lid, either.
I put the soup can on the back yard fence, draw a bead on it, and squeeze the trigger.
Chicken and noodles everywhere.
I’ll be eating out today.
Every week, Chang pulled a business card out of the fishbowl and the winner got a free lunch at The Happy Dragon.
Every so often, another hand would dip into the fishbowl and draw a business card. But they never got a free lunch.
They found Mary’s body in the dumpster the next day. The same with Steve, Lynn, Arthur, and Jose. Sixteen in all.
One day, the killer reached into the bowl and got his hand wet.
No business cards. Just a goldfish.
Sure, there is such a thing as a free lunch, but it’s not worth the risk.
Abraham smiled and leered over his old enemy Senator Douglas.
“So, will you be my friend now?” said Lincoln.
“Never!” shouted the bloody-faced Douglas. “I will never yield!”
Lincoln kicked Douglas in the ribs, and Douglas howled in pain.
“Friends?’ offered Lincoln, reaching down to the bloody and ragged Senator. “Please?”
“Never!” wheezed the wobbly Douglas.
Lincoln hit him with a chair, knocking Douglas out.
Lincoln had him dragged back to the dungeon.
“Rest, my enemy,” said Lincoln. “We begin fresh tomorrow morning.”
Sure, you can destroy your enemies by making friends of them, but where’s the fun in that?
As Halloween approached, Dana made a robe, tunic, and headdress of the feathers, stapling and gluing them into place.
She tried them on and turned in front of the mirror.
“Perfect,” she said.
“What are you doing?” asked Toby, her little brother.
“I’m going to be Queztocoatl,” said Dana. “This will get me lots of candy.”
“You look like a Las Vegas hooker,” said Toby.
“How would you know?” said Dana. “You’ve been watching all the blocked channels again! MOM! MOM!”
He lit a match and tossed it at his sister.
“Now you’re the Burning Bush,” said Toby.
Abraham woke to a horrific grinding and screaming. He ran down to the White House kitchen
“Professor Reynolds, explain yourself this instant!” shouted Lincoln.
“Well, you know how I like to mutilate puppies with knives, correct?”
“Yes,” said Lincoln hesitantly. “You’re quite good at it.”
“I’ve invented a device that will mutilate them quicker with high-speed rotating knives,” said Reynolds. “It’s called a blender.”
Lincoln examined the device. He wiped off the puppy guts and blood and held it up.
“At least you’re doing it well,” said Abraham, putting the blender down. “Go on.”
The screams continued into the night.
When the clock strikes one, I put down my shears, grab a spear, and head out the front door of my shop to challenge Hans, the baker across the way.
“SHAKA ZULU!” I shout, and I hurl the spear at his shop’s front door.
When the clock strikes two, I know that Hans will soon hurl the spear back at my door.
“SHAKA ZULU!” echoes across the street.
Folks around here know to get down or keep clear.
So today, when I hurled the spear…
Screams pierce the air. Sirens in the distance, approaching fast.
The chittering grew louder. Abraham wrapped the last of his shirt around the stick, dipped it in oil, and lit the torch again.
“Back to the Kingdom of the Molemen or ahead to The Cave Of Razor-Apes?” whispered Harry Stanton.
“We should have just stayed in the kitchen,” he grumbled. “What was I thinking?”
“Pardon me, genius,” said McLellan. “Didn’t you say we should seek the unexplored regions?”
“I didn’t mean in here,” he sighed. “How was I to know there was an abyss of caves under that trap door?”
Grant emptied his flask.
The torch went out.
Bob dropped his bong and looked up at the swirling green skies.
“Radical,” he whispered. “This needs Floyd.”
He went back inside, humming “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” while hunting for his iPod.
He found it, went back outside, and scanned his playlist.
“Damn,” he shouted. No Pink Floyd. Must have cleared it out.
He went back in to search for the files.
He then dug through his CDs, but they were too scratched to rip.
Ten bucks and two hours download later, he synced up and went back outside.
The lights were gone, and so was his buzz.
Juan and his burro Steve went up the mountain to pick coffee beans.
A bush was on fire.
“I AM THE LORD JEHOVAH, GOD OF ABRAHAM,” it said.
Juan stared. Steve brayed.
“I HAVE TEN NEW COMMANDMENTS FOR MY CREATION!”
“Que?” said Juan.
The bush rustled.
“OH GREAT,” it said. ” DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?”
“Que?” said Juan.
“YOU… SPEAKA… ENGLISH?” the bush said, slower and louder.
“No habla,” said Juan.
“SHIT,” said the bush. “NEVER MIND THEN.”
The flames grew. “LEAVE! GO! GET YOUR ASS OUT OF HERE!”
No more weed before harvesting, thought Juan, running away.