Tag: mystery

Fishtank

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Every so often, Susan filled the fish tank with Jell-O.
Bob, not one for confrontation, pretended not to notice.
“Notice anything different?” asked Susan.
“You… cut your hair?” said Bob. “I like it that way.”
“No…”
“Ah, okay,” said Bob. “Well, I still like it that way.”
Then Susan would scowl and stomp off.
Bob couldn’t remember when they got the fish tank, nor could he recall ever owning fish.
He looked through their wedding book: silverware… plates…guns… a dining table…
No fish tank.
The next morning, the Jell-O was gone.
Bob never asked where it went.
Better that way.

The Ghost Ship

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We matched velocity and docked with the luxury liner.
The alarm went off as we suited up. Damn, those things are annoying.
Floating throughout the ship we found dozens of lifesacks. Must have been sudden atmospheric failure.
Every one contained a passenger or a crewman. All dead. No survivors.
Was this a bad batch of lifesacks? The hole stabbed in each suggested no. Each victim was frozen in horror.
Who’s the murderer? We checked manifest… all accounted for.
Did they finish everyone off, then themselves?
Whatever. That’s the Orbital Navy’s problem. We’re pirates.
We robbed the cargo hold and left.

Anchors Aweigh

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Yes, It was my treachery that sank the ship.
I was paid by the enemy to scuttle it during the night watch.
However, as I swam towards the rowboat that was waiting to pick me up, I was entangled in the anchor chain and dragged to the bottom of the ocean.
Straight to Hell.
The anchor chained to my leg feels like it gets heavier every century I drag it, but I know that it’s my mind playing tricks on me.
Or is it my soul playing tricks on me?
I regret nothing.
Well, except getting tangled in this anchor.

The Box

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I see you like the box. Would you like to know what it does?
Press the button once, and the box will buzz.
Press the button two times, and the box plays music.
Press the button three times, and the music stops.
Press the button four times, and the box will sparkle with pretty green lights for five seconds.
Press the button five times, and the box will emit a cloud of lemon-scented steam.
Whatever you do, don’t push and hold the button.
What happens? Well, according to my blueprints, the world ends.
Fifty bucks?
You have yourself a box.

Alone

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My wife, she went out of town. Seven days.
I dropped her off at the airport, tell her I love her, or did she tell me? Both?
I’m so confused.
First day gone, I trip and fall. I can’t move.
My neck’s broken?
How many days has it been?
I’m thirsty. I’m hungry. I’ve pissed and shit myself a bunch of times.
Phone’s ringing. Again. They’ll leave a message.
Yup. Message beep.
I’ve tried to yell, but I’m face down. Doesn’t go far. Muffled cries.
I can weep. But that’s drying me out.
Seven days.
So thirsty. So hungry.
Fuck.

Odd Noises

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“There’s odd noises coming from under the bed,” said my wife.
I rubbed my eyes. “It must be Nardo and Piper.”
“Meow.” “Meow.”
Both Nardo and Piper were on the blanket.
“Or not.”
“Will you please look?” my wife asked. “I don’t like odd noises.”
“Fine,” I said. I leaned over the side and looked.
A dwarf was tucked up under the bed, reading from a calculator: “Three… five… seven… nine…”
“Can you please stop it with the odd noises?” I asked him.
He nodded. “Two… four… six… eight… ten…”
I pulled back up on the bed. “How’s that, dear?”

Let there Be Reboot

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A voice wakes me. Reminds me of The Three AM Cutover.
“Thanks,” I say, and open my bloodshot eyes.
Nobody else is around.
Typical.
Hey, ever notice how the world’s screwed up? Some things just don’t make sense?
We’re fixing that tonight. All of it. One big Cosmic Service Pack.
He only rested on the Seventh Day, you know. Been working up this bug fix ever since then. Explains the absence, No?
It’s coming up on three in the morning. Cutover time. We’re calling it Zero Hour, but three in the morning?
As I said, typical.
I’d better get ready.

The Deadly Butter Knife

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How many people can say they were killed by a butter knife?
Well, thanks to RJ, I’m proud to say I was.
It was a game called Assassination. You have to “kill” the players next to you in the circle without being killed.
RJ hid in a closet. When I passed by, he “slit” my throat. Best kill of any game.
Just got an email from him. He says my puzzled look was a highlight of his college career.
In the next round, I was armed with fire extinguishers. When asked, I said “Well, only I can prevent forest fires.”

Elba Asylum

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I bet you that you’ll never guess what makes Elba Asylum unique.
Some people say it’s the hydrotherapy pool, but that thing hasn’t been used in years. None of our patients can swim nor have any inclination to learn.
The stables? Nice guess, but there are several institutions in upstate New York that involve equine activities to help draw out the shy and reclusive.
Ah, yes. You’ve finally noticed: every patient thinks he’s Napoleon!
The principles of mass production, applied to psychotherapy.
Okay, I haven’t cured any of them. But as long as they still pay their bills, why bother?

Holy Question Marks, Questionman!

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Daventry had a problem: crime.
Gotham had Batman.
Metropolis had Superman.
Daventry had nobody… until The Question arrived.
Dressed in question marks, The Question of Daventry roamed the streets at night, fighting crime.
Criminals changed their schedules to the daytime. Then they agreed on a rotating-shift plan to cover all hours of the day to keep The Question constantly exhausted.
Eventually, the criminals got word to The Riddler, and The Question of Daventry was sued over the costume. Then lawyers arrived from Hub City about the name.
I think that explains the guy in the chicken suit with the flyswatter.