Tag: sick

It’s all fun and games until someone loses an I

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Frantic, Marcia followed the paramedics rolling her daughter through the ER into the trauma room.
“I swear, I didn’t know!” shouted Marcia. “Oh, God, can you save her? Please?”
A nurse grabbed Marcia by the shoulder and tried to calm her down.
“How old is she?” asked the nurse.
“Seven,” said Marcia. “She’s turning eight next week. She turns eight next week!”
Marcia babbled and cried some more while the nurse looked at a box in Marcia’s hand.
“SCRABBLE: Ages 8 and up” it said.
The nurse shook her head. Third time this week.
Damn parents, always rushing their kids.

Ice Cream Truck

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Explosions are ripping apart the skyline of the city, but the ice cream truck rolls on.
No music is playing, but not because the driver doesn’t want to be targeted. Those who would destroy his truck are hundreds of miles away from hearing it, manning the missile batteries and piloting the drones which unleash the death around him.
No, the music is off because there is no ice cream today.
The coolers are full, sure, but they are packed with the corpses of his neighbors.
He figured as long as the bombs were falling, why not settle a few scores?

The Dollar Coin Dolly

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I hate to burst your bubble, but Sacagawea was no guide or translator.
She was just a common filthy street whore.
Lewis and Clark bought her off of that Charbonneau guy, dressed her up like an Indian, and “explored” her rotten every mile of the Missouri and back.
The whole “Indian Guide” story? Just a ruse for getting the government to pick up the expense.
Jean Baptiste was a wooden doll, meant to fool the natives into thinking Lewis and Clark were civilized folk.
It’s in the Smithsonian, unless they incinerated it to keep the real story from getting out.

The Wife

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The old man’s lawyers called his wife.
“We’re on vacation,” growled the wife.
“We’re concerned,” said the lawyers. “Now that he’s been found guilty, the fine your husband faces is disastrously large.”
“Are my assets safe?” asked the wife.
“No,” said the lawyers. “What’s yours is his. Everything goes.”
The wife pondered. “Is there a way out of this?”
“He’s guilty, but not sentenced,” said the lawyers. “If he dies before sentencing, the judgment vanishes.”
“And you get paid,” said the wife.
They gave her sugar pills. She gave them his heart medication.
She woke up a very rich widow.

The Hometown Hero

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Eleven wins, State, and Honor Roll four years running.
Bobby’s the hero of Centerville High.
Until the cheerleaders accused him of rape. I said cheerleaders. All of them.
Bobby wore his letter jacket to court, claimed innocence.
Uh huh. Yeah, right.
Didn’t help one bit. Judge threw the book at him.
After five years, the DNA got re-tested.
No match.
Suddenly, the cheerleaders did a 180. Bobby’s innocent.
The governor ordered Bobby released, and he was wheeled out to freedom.
He’d taken a knife to the spine on the inside.
The same knife they found in the head cheerleader’s throat.

Robbing the Dead

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Haven’t you robbed enough from the man?
His home.
His son.
His strength.
His life.
Body’s not cold yet, laying on the couch, they’re talking about taking one last thing.
“He’s got one of those dick implant pumps,” Catfish says. “Good model, too.”
“Cut it out, and we’ll sell it in Mexico,” says The Bitch.
They go into the kitchen, looking for knives and a bag.
Don’t need to be delicate when the man’s dead.
“Wait,” says The Bitch.
“Yeah,” says Catfish. “This ain’t right.”
“No,” says The Bitch. “Put him on the floor. We can sell that couch, too.”

Return To Ascender

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“Ever since he came back, he’s been a real dick,” said Luke.
“We were out walking when we saw a boy with a crippled leg,” Matthew said. “He begged to be healed, but Jesus broke his crutch and struck him lame in the other leg.”
“Don’t forget the wine!” said Timothy. “We were going to celebrate his return, but he waves his hands and poof! It’s turned into water.”
“There’s no way we can make this church work with him screwing around,” said Mark. “Finish him off?”
Everybody nodded, and they drew straws.
“We’ll just say he… ascended,” said Luke.

Murder Offer

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Usually, door hangers offer pizza or Chinese. Two bucks off, free delivery, fifteen dollars minimum order. That kind of thing.
This wasn’t one of those. It was an offer for discount murders.
They quoted rates for various circumstances. Like security considerations. Chronic health problems. Or they’re pregnant – that kind of thing.
I dialed the number and got another dial tone.
Two minutes later, my phone rings.
“Who needs killing?” asks a voice.
“My neighbor’s dog keeps barking late at night,” I joked.
A week later, I got a bloody collar and the bill.
Funny. I don’t sleep any better.

Fisherman

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Cursing, Stavros pulled in the line and ran his fingers along the end.
As usual, it was a clean break.
The bottom of the lake was littered with Stavros’ hooks and various lengths of fishing line.
There were also some government-issue four-door sedans down there.
Every so often, another car would arrive. The driver would then get out, look around, take off his sunglasses, and ask lots of questions.
“Drunk drivers,” said Stavros, and nothing else.
Either they left or they didn’t.
Stavros tied another hook, baited it with a bloody chunk of civil servant flesh, and tossed it in.

Office Clown

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Ned was the office clown.
He put trick candles on birthday cakes for coworkers. They’d blow out, but the candles kept relighting themselves.
He loosened the wheels from office chairs. Everyone fell down and cracked their ass.
He stole all the toilet paper from the bathrooms. Paper towels, too. Folks started carrying their own.
He added Thalidomide to the water coolers. Then he’d knock up secretaries and they’d have twisted flipper-babies.
The judge didn’t find that last one funny.
Ned tried to be the clown of his cell block in prison. Instead, he ended up the bitch.
Now that’s funny.