Tag: cliche

When the music’s over

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When the music’s over, turn out the light.
That’s what Jim Morrison said, but what happens when the music’s still going, but you need to turn out the light and go to bed?
Do you really want to be alone and in the dark with the music?
I end up turning on a light in another room so the music goes in there. Then I turn out the light in here and close the door.
The music tries to creep in under the door.
And so does the light.
I put a towel under the door and go to sleep.

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.

War Is Hell

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You know those letters than the Post Office digs up now and then from a World War 2 soldier writing his wife or girlfriend, but it doesn’t get delivered until fifty years later?
I found one of those under some carpet I was ripping up in the office.
Policy says to go get a supervisor to read it before delivery, so I did.
He steams it open, takes a gander, and smirks.
Blah blah blah… killed some Germans… blah blah blah… screwed a bunch of whores… blah blah blah… stole artwork…
He pulls out a lighter and burns the letter.

Kids Are Stupid

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I remember the kids in the schoolyard telling each other that if you toss a penny off of the Empire State Building, it could kill someone.
Kids are stupid.
You’ve got to drop a roll of pennies to take someone out.
I’d repeat the experiment, but I dropped my binoculars, so I can’t see if I’m hitting anyone or not.
Maybe they’ll tell me at the trial. If they take me alive, that is.
Looking down, I think the binoculars killed someone down there, too.
I wish I’d brought a parachute. Jumping from here would be cool.
I’ll jump anyway.

Taps

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It took years of practice, but Softshoe Kelly learned to encode secret messages in his tapdancing.
He started simple, but his skills soon gave him the ability to transmit complex messages without anybody suspecting a thing.
When he was captured by the enemy, they paraded him in front of a global television audience.
Softshoe Kelly performed his act, and cryptology experts determined that he’d been treated miserably but had quite a lot of information on their weak points.
With this information, the enemy was defeated, but Kelly was mortally wounded in the assault.
At his funeral, the military played Taps.

Two Robes

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If you did the same job since the beginning of time, you’d get bored, right?
That’s why The Grim Reaper and The Ferryman on The River Styx trade jobs once a year.
Ferryman reaps and the Reaper ferries souls.
So there I was, walking to work, and this figure in a black robe whacks me with a boat oar.
“Ouch!” I yell.
“Shit,” he growls. “Hold still.”
And he whacks me again.
Next thing I know, I’m standing on the shore of a river.
“Hello?” I yell.
Paddling a boat with a scythe has got to be a royal bitch.

Let The Chips Fall

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I try not to worry about things. I tend to let the chips fall where they may.
Every now and then, a chip lands on its edge and rolls around the floor a bit.
Sometimes, it rolls under the couch or into a floor vent.
The vacuum will pick up the ones under the couch, but the ones that fall into the vent, you’ve got to pry those up and pull the chips out.
That’s a real pain in the ass.
So, I got bigger chips… ones that were thicker than the slots in the vents.
Solved that problem, right?

The H Word

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“To the man with a hammer, everything looks like a nail.”
Ever hear that?
I have. And I saw something similar to it carved into the bathroom stall: “To the man with a tree and a rope, everything looks like a nigger.”
Disgusting, isn’t it?
Know what’s worse? It’s carved into the bathroom stall of a church.
My church.
I close the Bible and look up from the pulpit.
“Which one of you fuckers wrote that?” I shout.
They stare back. Nobody responds.
Oh well. No sense beating a dead horse.
Potluck Sunday, you know.
Pass the potato salad, please.

Atlantis Rises

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Poseidon raises his mighty hand, oceans boiling with rage.
An ancient land rises from the deep once more.
“Atlantis,” growls the sea god. “How long has it been since I saw you fall?”
He wanders the water-logged streets, rotten wood and cracked piles of marble that were once stores, homes, and temples to his glory.
What was once beautiful and majestic, left in ruin by time.
Poseidon weeps, lowering his hand. The lost continent is lost once more.
He wonders aloud if he’s done this before.
Oh, Senile Sea God, like your temples, how the ages have ravaged your mind.