The Verona town guard gave the Capulets and Montagues a wide berth during patrols.
“Wherefore art thou, Romeo?” shouted Juliet.
Romeo was behind a tree, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “I swear I’ll get you, bitch!” he shouted back.
Juliet swung the rifle around and squeezed the trigger.
Romeo yelped in terror as the bullet struck the tree he was behind.
“Come out and tell me how my beauty is like the sun one more time, you creep!”
Romeo heard Juliet’s father chastising her.
He made a quick escape… and took a bullet in the back.
“Good shot, Daddy!” Juliet cheered.
Tag: book
The Siege of Oz
Before the Wizard floated off and Dorothy vanished, the Scarecrow, Tinman, and Lion swore to rule Oz with intelligence, compassion, and bravery.
Instead, they spent their time bickering and fighting.
The Lion became foolhearty. Barroom brawls ruined his once-magnificent pelt, making him that much more sullen and angry, drinking more, fighting more.
The Tinman was overly compassionate, giving away everything in the Treasury.
The Scarecrow, stuck with the balance sheets, yelled “Damn you both!”
The leaderless Winged Monkeys and Witch Castle Guards received news of this chaos.
They marched on Emerald City, ready to overthrow the misguided and incompetent triumvirate.
Laminated
Flat Stanley became flat when a bulletin board fell on him.
You believe that he went on a series of wild adventures, right? Catching art thieves, sliding under doors, and mailing himself to far-off distant lands?
What really happened was a quiet, closed-coffin funeral.
His little brother Arthur was traumatized, shipped off to a mental hospital.
Every time his parents visited, he’d hand them another book he’d written about Stanley.
Alive. Adventuring.
Under his hospital bed, they found crushed and laminated mice.
“Experiments,” said Arthur, grinning
He escaped last night. Stole a steamroller.
Oh my God! The Mall!
Stop him!
Seeds
On the eve of her return to the land of the living, Hades thanked Persephone for her company.
He handed her a map with some wine and food, in case she got hungry along the way.
The next morning, Persephone began her journey.
It took longer than the journey to Hell, and she sat by a stream to rest.
She drank some wine, ate some food.
Then she realized: it was the rest of that apple.
“Six more seeds,” grinned Hades. “That makes twelve. The world is mine.”
Far above them, leaves turned brown again, and snow began to fall.
The Missing Story
I read a bedtime story to Lisa every night.
It’s always a new story. She never wants to hear the same story twice.
She cries when I box up the story books to take to the used bookstore. She wants to keep them all.
Her bookshelf filled up quickly.
And three more I bought her.
The books are in piles from floor to ceiling, filling every closet and room.
I can’t get down the stairs to the basement anymore. It’s also full of books.
So, we switched to eBooks.
I read a story from the Kindle, and she falls asleep.
The Man
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After countless adventures with Curious George, The Man in the Yellow Hat got tired of chasing him down and having to pay for damage.
For a while, he kept the rambunctious monkey locked in a cage. The little creature couldn’t escape, and he would shriek all day long.
The neighbors complained. They said The Man that he was being cruel, keeping George in a cage, so he let George out and fed him tranquilizers.
These days, you’ll see them walking hand-in-hand, The Man smiling wide with his glassy-eyed, simian zombie.
“Wipe the drool from your lip, George,” he says.
Pathetic.
Scarecrow
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After Dorothy slew the Wicked Witch and Scarecrow was crowned as King Of Oz to rule in place of the departing Wizard, the sharpness of the tacks in his head didn’t always lead to the brightest of decisions.
Time brings rust, after all.
He was hailed when he was wise.
He was vilified for his foolish times.
So he enjoyed the times when he was hoisted on shoulders and led through Emerald City in a parade.
And he learned to hide when angry mobs wanted to burn him in effigy.
“They might mistake me for the dummy again,” he whispers.
Mirror Mirror
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What?
Yes, my name is Mirror Mirror.
My parents had a sick sense of humor.
The Queen was just plain sick.
When she found out about my skill with poetry, I was dragged to the castle so that I could heap praise upon her beauty.
Well, until that beauty faded.
Then, one day, I caught a glimpse of a beautiful girl walking down the road outside the castle.
“Snow White,” the scullery maid said her name was.
I was left speechless.
The Queen asked me who the fairest of all was.
I answered, and was chained to the dungeon wall.
Father
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Sitting here on the park bench, watching the kids run and play, I feel like I have been missing out on the joys of fatherhood.
What would it be like to raise a child? Would all my doubts and fears fade as I take on that role? (Or, I suppose, the role take over me.)
No. The doctors warned me about thinking like this, trying again.
My hands clench and release, over and over.
Stop.
Not again. No more blood. No more screaming.
I get up slowly, walk back to my workshop, and stare at the puppet-boy.
Stay wood, Pinocchio.
Betrayal
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My friend, my love battered bloody through the streets of Jerusalem by the angry mob.
I feel every blow.
This was a mistake.
He falls at my feet.
“I forgive you,” he groans, and falls.
I should not have pointed him out.
I kneel to help him up, but I am pulled back by two Roman soldiers.
“Thank you, Iscariot,” says one, the other tossing me a bag.
Clink.
I pour out the silver coins into my hand.
Twenty-eight.
Twenty-nine.
Thirty.
He asked me to do this. He wanted to die.
I throw down the coins and scream “WHY?”
Silence.