Tag: silly

The Menorah

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“The sun’s almost down.”
“That’s nice. Where’s the cat?”
“He’s outside. It’s time to light the menorah.”
“Where’s the candles?”
“I’m using an oil menorah this year.”
“An oil menorah?”
“Yes. Uses olive oil. More authentic than candles.”
“What?”
“More authentic.”
“You’re gonna burn the fucking place down.”
“No I won’t.”
“Yes you will.”
“We’ve got a smoke detector this year.”
“Test it recently?”
“Um… no… errr…”
“Well, isn’t that a hoot?”
“You put the battery in the TV remote.”
“I did not.”
“Yes you did.”
“No I didn’t. I put it in the Blu-Ray remote.”
“What?”
“You’re a moron.”

Forty Acres

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My name be Rufus Washington Cleveland and I be 173 years old today.
What’s this here place called? Time Square?
Well, I calls it mine.
I been waitin over a century for my forty acres and a mule, and I’m takin these here forty acres.
Lincoln himself promised em to me. Said “You get forty acres and a mule, Rufus.”
When I axed him which forty I get, he just said “Just go take ’em.”
Gonna be a shame to tear these here buildins down, but this here is mah land, and I wanna get to plantin in the spring.

Butterflies

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What am I eating?
Butterflies.
Ever eaten butterflies? No?
Oh, they’re delicious.
I can’t decide if they taste better dipped in chocolate or hot sauce.
How do I cook them?
I don’t. I eat them raw.
Their wings melt with any kind of heat.
That’s okay – lots of things taste better raw, like peapods and carrots.
Okay, so they taste like crunchy fluff, but they hold the chocolate pretty well.
And hot sauce, too.
Hold it by the legs and stick the wings in the dip, then pop it in your mouth.
How did it taste? Delicious?
Told ya so.

Free Trial

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The letter said I qualified for a 7 day free trial. But it didn’t say what it was for.
I figured what the hell, right, and I called the 800 number.
I heard it ring twice and then a click.
No answer. No voice.
The line went dead.
The next thing I knew, I was in Paris.
It was a week later, and there was a receipt in my hand.
“REFUNDED IN FULL”
I had no idea what had happened to me or how I got there.
There were no other receipts, no clues.
I found a cafe and drank.

McKinney

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McKinney. Leader of the pack.
I grew up watching him on late night specials, learning his voice, his gestures, his jokes.
The unknotted bowtie hangs around my neck just like his.
Martini glass in hand, one olive on a glass spear.
I do his routine at retirement homes, people old enough to remember, too old to put up with the new stuff out there.
Keep it familiar.
McKinney’s fame was wider than I’d thought.
Broadcasts, deep in space.
That audience came for him.
They found me.
Now I’m touring the galaxy. Rich as hell.
But no olives to be found.

Guards

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The brothers stand at either side of the door, wearing their finest red military parade jackets.
Even though they each had a musket on their shoulder, the guns hadn’t been fired in years.
When had they been fired? Let’s see…
I know. I remember.
That day, the brothers had challenged each other to a duel.
After walking ten paces, they turned, and fired.
Both brothers fell over, dead.
I had them both stuffed, dressed, and propped up at either side of the door.
They are pretty useless as guards now, but then they were pretty useless as guards back then.

Half the moon

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Which half of the moon do you want?
The left? The right?
Waning? Waxing?
Or perhaps you want the top of it?
Don’t forget the bottom.
Maybe you want the side that faces us. Certainly you do not want the side that faces away.
What do they call it? The dark side of the moon?
Take your time. It is an important decision.
What of the other half? Who gets that?
Is half the moon not enough for you? Need you have more?
I can understand. What good is half a moon?
Better to have none at all, I suppose.

Goalposts

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There’s no greater thrill than when your team wins the championship and the crowd tears the goalposts down.
I wish we had stopped at that.
After the goalposts came down, we started tearing up the field, ripping huge sheets of sod and tossing them around like bathroom mats.
Then we busted up the concession stands and the bathrooms.
The seats and bleachers took some effort, but soon enough, we were throwing seats around smashing them to bits.
The rest of the stadium required heavy construction equipment, but we were persistent and fired up.
A final cheer, then we went home.

Leftover Turkey

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Thanksgiving is over.
Leftover turkey for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
That’s right. Breakfast.
Ever had turkey bacon?
Well, I made a machine that turns leftover turkey into turkey bacon.
I’m not claiming that it tastes like real bacon, but it’s really close.
And considering that you’re sick and tired of the taste of turkey, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind having your turkey as turkey bacon.
Yams are another story. There’s absolutely nothing you can do to yams to make them less like yams.
We’ll take those out to the landfill and bury them for 10,000 years like all hazardous waste.

River Rock

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Eloise noticed a strange bit of data in the mortality report.
Nobody had ever died in Rock River County on the weekend in the past forty years.
She thought it odd, even if it was a backwoods town of barely 1,000 people.
No email address for the local clinic.
She tried calling them. Busy.
When the clinic did pick up, it was the doctor’s wife. She acted as nurse and secretary.
“Earl goes hunting on weekends,” she said. “If someone dies, well, they can wait till he gets back Monday to pronounce them dead. Ain’t like they’re in a rush.”