Tag: cliche

Sequel

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When Lisa woke up, Ethan wasn’t in bed.
She walked to the den and saw Ethan playing his new game.
“Morning,” she said. “When did you wake up?”
“Never slept,” said Ethan, watching the two titanic figures on the monitor beat each other senseless.
“You’ve been playing that since last night?” asked Lisa.
“Yup,” said Ethan. “It’s a really tough game. I get really, really close, but in the end just can’t beat it.”
“What’s it called?” asked Lisa.
“Immortal Kombat 2,” said Ethan.
Lisa thought for a moment. “How did you solve the first Immortal Kombat?”
Ethan didn’t answer.

Zeno

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You know Zeno’s Paradox? Motion is meaningless because you go halfway, then then halfway the remaining distance, and then half of that, and so on – never quite reaching your goal?
Let me tell you the truth about Zeno: he would borrow money, lose wrestling bets, and run afoul of bookies.
“Pay up,” they’d say “or we’ll break your damn legs.”
“Why?” he’d respond. “I’d just pay half, then half of the remainder, half then of that, et cetera – never paying the whole debt.”
So they broke his legs in half. And then the halves in half.
Et cetera.

Hammered Shit

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Master bursts through the front door, stumbling across the room to fall on the couch.
“What would you like for dinner?” I chirp.
“Don’t bother me,” groans Master. “I feel like hammered shit.”
Master bought me for these kinds of days. He can rest while I take care of everything.
Dinner, chores – everything.
I don’t do some things so well, sure, but I can try.
I mediscan Master. He’ll probably wake up at seven.
I scuttle to the kitchen and phone the hardware store.
They can deliver hammers in less than an hour.
Now where will I get the shit?

The Locker

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The custodian at the gym heard the too-familiar banging and yelling from the locker room.
“Not again,” he groaned.
He went to his tool chest, pulled out the bolt cutters, and headed to Davey Jones’ Locker.
Davey Jones was pounding on the door, calling the combination lock a backstabbin’ scurvy dog.
“Please stop that, Mr. Jones,” said the custodian. “I’m just going to have to bend all that metal back.”
The custodian snipped off the padlock and opened the locker. “Have you ever thought about just using a lock with a key?” he said.
At least he tipped in gold.

Dancing Pinhead

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Gabriel landed at Heaven’s gates and screamed with agony, tucking into a ball and clutching his shredded, bloody sandals.
“So, did you find out how many of you can dance on the head of a pin?” asked Jesus.
“The head of a pin?” groaned Gabriel. “Wait… that’s the round flat part of it, right? And not the sharp pointy end?”
“You’re going to need new sandals, aren’t you?” Jesus sighed.
Gabriel crawled to the Quartermaster.
Jesus pulled out God’s Big Ledger Of Mysteries, wrote “It takes two to tango” in it by Angels Dancing On Pinhead, and snapped it shut.

Unfresh Air

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Nobody says “Go outside for some fresh air” anymore. We’ve pumped so much crap into the sky, nobody can breathe without a filter bubble or a set of tanks.
A few other things have changed. Tunnels, domes, and electric vehicles. Also lots of genetically-engineered plants people hope will eat up all the chemicals in the air.
It’s not working. The air just gets worse and worse.
They could have put Wrigley Field under a dome, but the Cubs decided to just tear it down and build a new ballpark.
First year in it, they win the World Series.
Who knew?

Sevens

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Back in Springfield, Raul and I would climb up the willow tree, lay back on the branches, and watch the moon through the leaves.
We pondered important things up there.
“Who’d win in a fight: The Magnificent Seven or the Seven Dwarves?” asked Raul.
“I have no idea,” I said. “Let’s find out.”
We looked down from the tree and watched a group of men in Wild West gear square off against brightly-colored little people.
The echoes of gunfire.
The clang of heavy mining equipment.
Blood everywhere.
The dwarves would have lost if the singing broad hadn’t have showed up.

Drag The River

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The last time anyone saw Nancy, she was down by the river.
With men. With guns.
“Drag the river,” I said.
Three days later, the divers had found a few cars, some guns, a lot of knives, and a pool table.
But no Nancy.
“Maybe they stuffed her into the pool table?” I asked.
“No,” said a diver. “We checked.”
“How about in the trunk of one of those cars?” I asked.
“No,” said another diver.
Nancy showed up three days later. She’d been on vacation.
I tried to refurbish the pool table, but it was a total loss.
Damn.

By The Axe

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Lying under a massive oak, his crushed chest filled with one last gasp of air, Earl remembered what his father told him many years ago.
“Live by the sword, die by the sword,” he said.
“But I don’t use a sword,” said Earl. “I use an axe.”
Earl’s father frowned. “I don’t know how you’ll die,” he said. “Maybe you should switch to a sword?”
“Swords aren’t very good at chopping down trees,” said Earl.
“Then I guess you’ll die by the tree,” said Earl’s father. “Live by the axe, die by the tree.”
“Timber,” whispered Earl, and he died.

Thumbs Up

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Alicia wasn’t just a thumb model, but she was the thumb model.
If you had a photo shoot that needed a close-up of the perfect thumb, you called Alicia.
Sure, it was her left thumb, but her left thumb reversed was better than any right thumb on the planet, too.
Ten years ago, it was insured for two million dollars, and on every billboard on every highway across America.
Then, she thumbed her nose at the whole shallow modeling industry.
Now, you’ll see it by the side of the road, hitching a ride just a little more down the way.