I bought her a drink, and she told me to go crawl back under the rock I crawled out from under.
I told her that I crawled out from under that rock long ago, and I was much younger and smaller back then. I don’t think I can fit under it.
And to tell you the truth, I’m not quite sure the rock is still there. For all I know, there’s a Starbucks there now.
So, I smiled.
She tossed the drink in my face.
The bartender tapped me on the shoulder. “Three’s your limit, pal. Hand me your keys.”
Tag: romance
Linguists
I said I worshiped the ground she walks on, but I didn’t worship her.
She said she hated my ass for that, but she didn’t hate me.
“My ass or my guts?” I asked.
“Guts,” she said. “Ass was yesterday.”
“Ah, ok.”
We always go back and forth like this, engaging in silly examples of symbolism and metonymy until someone gives in, but there’s only so many representations of the whole you can come up with before you run out.
She waves her scepter. “The crown commands the Royal Linguists to come up with more funnies!”
The cunning linguists bow.
A Perfect Ten To Twenty
My coach told me that nobody ever remembers the one who came in second.
So, that’s why I stabbed the bitch who came in first.
Well, that’s not the only reason.
You see, mom pushed me into gymnastics, pulled me out of school, and stuck me with a coach who taught me things that would have made Nabokov puke.
Look, unless you’re Mary Lou Fucking Retton, you’re washed up at eighteen.
So, yeah, I lost my shit, and I stabbed her.
She’ll live, but the coach won’t.
I don’t want that disgusting creep touching anyone else.
(He’s mine, dammit! MINE!)
Weightless
A poet once described being in love as feeling weightless all the time.
So, when I got a chance to ask a crewmember of the International Space Station if they felt like they were in love, I thought they’d say “Yes, all the time!”
Instead, I got a visit from a security team, checking me for adult diapers and asking to see the trunk of my car.
“You don’t own duct tape or other kidnapping implements, do you?” they asked.
I shook my head, then looked up. “Well, I own duct tape,” I said. “But not for that.”
They left.
Her eyes
Her eyes are so beautiful, so deep, and so bright.
I hired an artist to create glass eyes identical to them so I can carry them with me wherever I go.
A peek now and then reminded me of her beauty, like carrying a spring of lavender for the scent.
Then, when she died, I paid a taxidermist to have her mounted, and those glass eyes became hers for eternity, unblinking… staring at me across the room.
What? You think me a monster for doing this?
Wrong! Look upon her yourself! Was she not the finest bird you’ve ever seen?
Seven Brides For Seven Monsters
It all started when Victor Frankenstein made his monster.
The monster got lonely, so he made a bride for the monster.
But the bride was way too hot for the monster, so he kept her for himself.
This pissed off the monster, so he made another hottie just for him.
But this new hottie was even hotter than the bride, so he kept her as a mistress.
“So, about the monster…”
No way, said the bride.
“Threesome?”
No.
All this time, the villagers sat around with their pitchforks and torches, far too amused at Victor’s shenanigans to storm the castle.
Magi
Doctor Odd put down “Gift Of The Magi” and smiled.
O Henry’s tale reminded him of when he sold his invincible army of robots to buy his true love a crown of diamonds, while his true love gave him an Orvis gift certificate.
Orvis?
What the hell?
He didn’t own anything from there.
They fought and broke up.
She kept the crown, and it really pissed him off.
So, he activated the homing beacon, recalled his robots from the pawn shop, and conquered earth.
He put the crown in his trophy case, mounted on his former true love’s severed head.
So Many Candles
On every girl’s birthday, they name each of the candles on their cake after a boy, and if only one is left burning when they make their wish and blow them out, then that’s the boy they’ll marry.
The more candles, the harder it is to blow them all out, but Mary did, no matter how big Mother baked the cake and how wide she set the candles apart.
Then, one year, surrounded by her college friends, she blew out the candles, and one remained flickering.
“Sam,” Mary said.
Next to her, Mary’s girlfriend grinned. “You know I prefer Samantha.”
Ignorance Is Wedded Bliss
Igor found her body in a chair, poison in one hand and a note in the other.
“Victor
I remember now.
I know what kind of monster you are.
Please, no more experiments. Burn my corpse.”
Instead, Victor found her diary, and burned the note with it.
Flushing the poison was difficult, but the rejuvenation formula not only replaced the contaminated blood, but neutralized all toxins.
They laid her out on the table and hooked up the wires.
Once again, the electricity would cause temporary amnesia.
Two months? Three?
“Isn’t love grand?” said Igor.
Victor nodded, and threw the switch.
Backwards and in Heels
Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, but backwards and in heels.
Absolutely everything. Just like that Benjamin Button fellow, she aged backwards.
At first, she needed makeup and pain pills to match her dance partner’s youth and speed, but over time, her body loosened up, and her wrinkles faded.
Oh, how radiant they were, Ginger’s bright face, shining like a starlet’s, gazing into Fred’s eyes.
Younger… younger… then, the audiences got suspicious, so the makeup boys came back in to turn forward the clock.
They looked back and laughed, Fred wheezing heavily, and Ginger as giddy as a schoolgirl.