Tag: cliche

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.

Wilton

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Where El Dorado was paved with gold, the town of Wilton is paved with cake.
Gingerbread houses and frosting flowers line Angel Food Lane, their gumdrop mailboxes overflowing with letters written on coconut.
In between classes, Wilton Elementary serves sugary snacks to the peanut-brittle children.
The Department of Works rolls around in a cake-pan truck, patching holes in the streets, mending the breaks in the peppermint sewers, and planting spun-sugar trees when the old ones dry up and flake away.
The explorers look at each other, mumble “El Dorado?”
One shakes the compass, and they walk back into the woods.

Oscar

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When I hear the phrase “Busier than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs” I remember Oscar.
Used to stand up on his back feet and lean against the rocking chair until he tipped it over.
Then, he’d climb up on the chair, sitting there with the pride of a hunter posing with his trophy.
I ain’t seen Oscar for years. One night, he musta decided he had something better, never come back.
Sometimes, I go out on the porch, my rocking chair’s on it’s side, I wonder.
And as I put my chair back up, I smile.

Dominos

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Jackie set up dominos to run from one end of the state to the other, and she’s ready to tip that first domino over.
How he got all these dominos set up without any falling over or getting stolen, well, let’s just say this state’s proud of Jackie and ain’t nobody’s gonna mess with her stuff.
And to tell the truth, it’s not too big a state the way she’s set these dominos up.
Nothing fancy. No ramps or pool balls or bells or little rockets.
Just dominos. A whole mess of them.
She flicks a finger, and they fall.

Secretaries

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When I have a choice, I’ll always pick the ugly secretary.
It’s been my lifelong experience that pretty secretaries can get by on their wonderful looks, but ugly secretaries have to be good at what they do.
It has also been my experience that pretty receptionists are utterly useless. Nobody wants them as a secretary, so they stick them up front to greet people.
There are no ugly receptionists. Well, in a way, there are.
In those cases, they’re meant to be security guards. Not exactly a friendly reception, but very useful, as my experience and two broken legs suggest.

Fiddle

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If hillbillies call a violin a fiddle, what do they call themselves a cello?
Truth is, hillbilly ain’t seen no cellos never. But they always a first time.
First time a hillbilly seen himself a cello, he thought it warn’t nothin’ but a big ol fiddle for a big ol giant.
So the hillbilly think himself a big man, all hillbilly do, put the cello up at his fool neck and he try to play the thing fiddle-like.
Yeah, he break his neck, fall down dead right there, cello fallin on him.
They says a giant kilt him dead, sir.

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.

Moonshine

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Nothing ever good comes out of a mason jar, my grandmother always says.
And if you’re drinking her special blend of moonshine out of one, well, she’s absolutely right.
What’s stronger than a mule kicking you? An elephant? An ostrich?
This shit kicks harder that a whole zoo stampede.
Takes the wallpaper off of the walls, too. Every damn clich” you can come up with for moonshine, well, this shit does it to you worse.
That’s why I poured mine out on the daisies and filled my mason jar with water.
I may be kinfolk, but I ain’t fuckin crazy.

Calendars

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Okay, so you got a bunch of calendars for Christmas and you don’t know which to use when the New Year rolls around, right?
Well, you could use them all, but that would cover all your walls. And windows. And floors. And ceilings. And-
You get the point.
On the other hand, you could use just one,. But when someone comes over and sees you’re not using their calendar, they’ll say “You’re not using the calendar I gave you for Christmas? I thought you liked puppies!”
Well, I do, but hey – check out the puppies on Miss January. Oh, momma.