Tag: sick

Way With Words

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Felix’s novels were a War Crime against Literature. So, for these crimes, he was banished to the circle of despised Literary Critics.
He didn’t just have a way with words – he had his way with words. In the worst possible way, in the back of his unmarked white van.
When he was done with them, he’d send his article to the publisher and leave the bloody, sweaty, shivering words on a playground for the children to discover.
His headstone will be blank. No words would associate with this monster, and no numbers are brave enough to cross the picket lines.

Jersey Girl

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Shirley the Mermaid had been around. She’d seen everything.
She and the girls were getting their nails done when they talked about their first times.
The first time Shirley saw a human, she swam after it for a closer examination.
It looked like a mermaid, but instead of fins, it had two limbs coming out of its hips leading into a solid stone-like block.
“Mob informant,” she thought. “Should have kept his goddamed trap shut.”
She took his wallet, emptied out the cash, and swam away.
Whether you’re over or under the Boardwalk, a Jersey Girl is a Jersey Girl.

My Bloody Valentine

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Five hours ago, this bum was using his pen knife to cut aluminum cans into hearts to give away on Valentine’s Day.
Now, he’s a bloody pulp under a bench. Some other bums beat him up for the aluminum cans, cashed them in for beer money.
He could have defended himself with the knife, but to him, it was a tool and not a weapon. Just as Cupid”s bow and arrow are for love, not war.
A mother tells her son not to worry. He’s up in Heaven now.
I hope they clean him up before they let him in.

Breaking Glass

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Moishe was always breaking glass.
Schlomo was always gluing glass pieces together to make beautiful art.
Moishe and Schlomo were the perfect team.
Sure, Schlomo needed Moishe, but Moishe needed Schlomo because Schlomo amazing glass artworks were beautiful enough to convince someone that it was okay that their window got smashed.
When Moishe got married, Schlomo glued the crushed wineglass into a beautiful swan and presented it to the bride.
He kept one piece for himself, which later that evening, he used to cut his own throat.
Oy gevalt, what a mess! Hierschel, what gets blood out of a carpet?

Carried Away

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I was doing a math problem the other night when I had to carry the seven.
So, I did. Up the stairs and into the bedroom.
I performed horrible, unspeakable acts upon that seven, things that would be illegal if I had done them in fourteen states.
Then, I carried the seven to the hospital, because it wasn’t breathing.
The doctors said that I was an idiot – sevens don’t breathe.
So, I carried the seven home and finished the math problem.
I’m working on another math problem. This time, I have to carry a one.
A thick, strong, sexy one.

Your Other Left

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The road turned left.
Macy turned right.
They found her truck the next morning, smashed into a big oak tree.
Macy was sitting in the bed of the pickup, smoking a cigarette through shattered teeth.
The Sheriff asked her if she was alright.
Macy looked back through two black eyes and shrugged.
“I guess so,” she said. “I”ve felt better, though.”
The Sheriff got up in the truck bed and bummed a smoke off of Macy. “Shame about the truck,” he said.
“Shame about the tree, too,” she said.
He nodded, and they waited for the tow truck in silence.

The Little Muse

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I know a girl who buys notebooks with a watercolor kitten in the corner of each page. She calls the kitten her little muse.
Sometimes, the kitten will take an interest in what she’s writing, romping among the words, chewing on commas, batting the letters around like wadded-up newspaper.
Other times, the kitten curls up on a warm, light sentence for a peaceful nap.
Once, she tore out a page and taped it to another to see if the kittens would play.
They didn’t.
And that’s how I found her body seven hours later, the blood-soaked notebook in her lap.

The Scissors

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Hi, my name is Roy. I have a pair of scissors.
They’re big sharp scissors, with thick plastic handles.
Hold them up, and they look like eyes.
Open the scissors and it looks like a bird’s beak. Or a mouth.
I open and close the scissors, and it looks like it’s talking.
Then I played a song by Britney Spears on my radio, and it looked like the scissors were singing.
My scissors were singing like Britney Spears.
I love Britney Spears. She’s so hot.
I wonder if they give head like Britney Spears, too.
Oh, okay… let’s find out!

Up A Tree

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I was walking home one evening when I saw a kid sitting by a tree and crying.
I stopped and knelt by the kid.
“Why are you crying?” I asked him.
“My cat is caught up the tree,” he whined.
I started to climb the tree, but he yelled for me to come back down.
So I did.
“What is it, kid?” I asked.
He handed me a pair of very sharp tin snips.
“What are these for?” I said.
“To cut the cat loose from the bailing wire I used to tie him to the tree branch,” he said.

Hawaiian Shirt Day

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Joey never played along with Hawaiian Shirt Friday at work.
Everybody else was as colorful as the rainbow, but Joey kept wearing the same button-down suits he wore every other day.
“Joey, it’s Hawaiian Shirt Friday today,” said his boss. “Come on, join in the fun.”
“This shirt is Hawaiian,” said Joey. “I got it off a dead Hawaiian at a nightclub.”
Nobody bothered Joey about Hawaiian Shirt Day after that.
But, oddly enough, coworkers started clubbing with him a lot more often.
He knows all the cool places. And, let’s face it, he’s good at sizing up fashion, too.