Tag: commentary

Stop The Presses

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Stop the presses!
Stop the elevators, too!
Might as well stop the air conditioning.
Oh, and the copiers. Can’t forget them, too.
Have you got a coffee machine?
Yup. Stop that sucker cold.
Stop everything right now.
Okay, now listen. Listen for a minute.
What do you hear?
You hear yourself breathing. And maybe your heart beating. Are your ears ringing, too?
That’s what’s real.
Now turn everything on.
Flip switches, one by one.
Bring it all back to life.
Make some noise.
Yell. Scream. Shout.
Just because you can’t hear your heart beating, it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

With Everything

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I didn’t feel like cooking, so I called the local pizza joint and asked them to send me a large pizza with everything.
“Everything?” they ask.
“Yes, everything,” I reply.
They pause a moment, I hear… breathing.
“Everything???????”
“Yes! Everything!”
The voice on the other end of the line is crumbling with fear and rage. “Oh… my… God! You sick monster!”
And then, the sound of a heavy metal blade hitting wood and a piercing scream.
I hang up quickly.
What have I done? What exactly is everything?
I need to lock the door. I need to hide.
Stay…. away!

It comes with the territory

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It doesn’t matter where you go.
Right around the corner.
Paris.
The Moon.
There’s always drama.
You get two folks together, best of friends, and something’s going to happen between them
Heck, you could be the last person in the world, and you’ll pull off a sock, put it on your hand, and have drama with Mister Socky.
On the other hand, quite literally, that’s what Mrs. Socky is for. She’s there to keep Mister Socky in line.
See? Just the three of us, enjoying the end of the world.
My feet are cold. But that’s okay, because we’re together.

The Cult

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Right in front of their eyes, vision fades to static.
Frightened and confused, we, the masses, heed the call.
Stripping off our clothes, we gather in the woods, swaying in the summer heat, naked… writhing.
One beast, many mouths… many fingers… many hearts beating.
The flesh circle opens briefly, and our leader mounts a tree stump, the cow skull over his head glowing in the moonlight.
We have no choice. We are compelled to listen.
He raises his staff and tells the tales of our childhood, like many generations before.
This is what happens when the neighborhood cable goes out.

The Swarm

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Gigantic swarms of insects crawl the globe, disassembling buildings and erecting massive, looping cellulose towers.
We few survivors watch from Mars, peering through the spy satellites they hadn’t bothered to destroy.
Landmark after landmark, civilization swept away.
St. Basil’s… gone.
Manhattan… gone.
The Eiffel Tower… gone.
For a moment, yarmulke in hand, I get grim satisfaction as the Dome Of The Rock is crumbled to dust.
Maybe… just maybe… this time they’ll leave it clear?
I mumble a brief prayer.
Yes?
My smile fades as another brown tower takes shape.
Oy. If it isn’t one bunch of assholes, it’s another.

Finished

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We went to the hospital to visit Grandma.
She wanted to say goodbye to the kids, so we brought them along.
They were scared at first, but Grandma told them life was a long, marvelous journey. You meet so many amazing people while you take it, and she told the kids they were the two most amazing ones she’d known.
But that journey, as wonderful as it is, doesn’t last forever. When God decides you’ve earned your rest, well, it’s time to stop.
“Then God tells you to shit yourself,” said a guy mopping the hallway.
No, that didn’t help.

Are You Happy?

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There’s a strange machine in the break room.
It’s about six feet tall, shaped like a box. Solid black.
It says “Are you happy?” on it in big white letters.
There’s two buttons on it: YES and NO.
I pushed the YES button and nothing happened.
I pushed the NO button and nothing happened.
Then, I pushed both buttons at the same time.
A drawer popped open, and I took a small yellow pellet out.
Should I swallow it?
I’m not sure. I’ve thought about it, and I can’t decide.
Just like I can’t decide if I’m happy or not.

The Final Book

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The line was curled around the block twice.
People were waiting in line for the book… the last book of the series they’ve been reading over the years.
Anybody who wasn’t in line, well, they’d barricaded themselves in their homes until they could get their own books… or borrow one from someone who had read through their early copy quickly.
They didn’t want any spoilers. They, just as much as the people in line, wanted the experience to be fresh.
What separated the two groups was a willingness to wait in long lines.
Who’s right? Who are the wiser ones?

Caps Lock

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I hate it when I accidentally hit the Caps Lock key and everything I type is all caps.
So, I took a butter knife and pried out that key.
I don’t make mistakes like that any more.
I also pried out the Pause key because I never use that one.
I never use Scroll Lock or the keys on the number pad either.
They’re gone, too.
Then I started prying out more keys. Symbols. Numbers. Letters.
Pretty soon, I was left with nothing remaining.
The screen asks me to hit any key to continue.
I’ll just sit here, happily waiting.

No Plan Survives Battle

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Jane, my editor, smiles as she reads my manuscript.
“No plan survives battle,” she says, as she’s said with all my other manuscripts.
The first was a mystery. She turned it into a best-selling cookbook.
My award-winning biography of Simon Bolivar started as a simple romance.
Then came the collection of Dutch poetry, the travel guide to the moon, a guide to Poker…
Everything I give her, she completely changes it… transforms it.
When I read it, it’s still familiar. Like my own writing is trapped within, screaming to be let out.
Bills scream to be paid, too, you know.