Tag: silly

Business Card War

639181

I’m the office manager. I print up business cards for everyone.
I keep a set of everybody’s handy for reordering purposes. Just mark your changes and go.
I keep another set for playing War.
Shuffle the business cards and deal them out.
I turn over a card, you turn over a card.
Now, who would win in an argument, the janitor or the CEO?
CEO wins, so I take your janitor card.
We go through the deck, turn over our piles, and start again.
It was a fun game, until my boss caught me playing, and tore up my card.

Donor

639169

Cheryl had put “Imagination and fingernails” on her organ donor card
It wasn’t easy to find, but tucked away, hidden behind her nightmares and dreams, there was her imagination.
“So fragile,” said the surgeon, and she gently lifted it out and put it on a ceramic dish.
Her assistant checked the national registry and found a match – an artist, skilled with a brush but without inspiration or the creative spark.
“Call them,” said the surgeon. “And have them ready by ten.”
The assistant nodded. “Anything else?” he asked.
“No,” said the surgeon, and she put the fingernails in her pocket.

The Cookie

639160

The timer goes off, and I open the oven.
There’s just one cookie on the baking sheet, but it’s a big one.
It’s bigger than a dinner plate. And it has chocolate chips the size of quarters, ready to melt in my mouth.
It’s cool out, so I put the sheet on the window ledge to cool.
Milk. I’m going to need milk.
I hop on my motorcycle and head to the store, pick up a quart of milk, and rush back.
The cookie’s still there, waiting.
I can’t eat it. It’s too… perfect.
I drink the milk and sigh.

Jealous Aquaman

639165

Aquaman lays back in his tub, watching the Olympics on a portable television.
The announcer says Michael Phelps’ name, and the superhero winces.
A twinge of jealousy. A scowl. A clenched fist.
He looks at his costume folded up on the toilet seat.
Orange, green, black, and yellow… sure, the colors are ugly, but it’s a classic.
And functional, too, he reminds himself. That technological suit they wear in the Olympics still can’t produce race times like a true superhero.
Or let them talk to fish.
“Give it up, dude,” says his pet goldfish.
Aquaman sighs, and changes the channel.

Vlad

639168

They called Count Vlad a crossdressing pervert.
He likes to wrap himself in bandages and sleep in an Egyptian-style coffin.
“They think I am a mummy,” he laughs. “While my assassins hunt for canopic jars with my vitals or try to torch my body, I just laugh and smile.”
I asked him about the dress, heels, and lipstick.
“That’s none of your business!” he hissed.
Tonight, he goes with a red wig.
“It’s my lucky hair,” he says, and walks out into the night.
He won’t have much trouble getting blood tonight at the bar.
Crossdressers eat that look up.

Justice Soup

639162

We stood around the body, wondering who had killed the man.
So, I got out a can of alphabet soup, waved it over the corpse, poured it into a mug, and microwaved it.
When it was ready, I chanted the magic spell and threw the mug at the wall.
It shattered and splashed everywhere.
“Look!” gasped the police inspector.
The name of the killer was on the wall, spelled out in noodles for all to see.
“Simple divination magic,” I said. “Nothing to it.”
The killer was found, his bloody knife retrieved, and justice was done.
So, want some soup?

The Movers

639160

When I was little, seven or eight, we moved from Chicago to Columbus.
Everything was packed into cardboard boxes. The boxes each got a numbered sticker. Then, they were put into trucks, and arrived at the new house a few days later.
My brother and I collected all of the stickers.
Red.
Blue.
A few yellow ones.
I can’t remember the highest numbers. They were in the hundreds.
But in the end, we never did find the sticker with the number one on it.
Meanwhile, our parents were trying to figure out just what the hell is in each box.

I was a pirate

639164

I had a dream I was a pirate.
We sailed the seven seas, although I think we may have sailed one sea twice. And that last one may have been a municipal pool.
I’m not that good with maps and charts. And I tend to look down the wrong end of a spyglass. Oh, and I get seasick in the bathtub.
But this is my dream, okay? And I was a pirate in my dream.
I didn’t have a hook for a hand. Or a pegleg. Or even an eyepatch.
Just a pirate, sailing the seven seas of my dreams.

Naming

636178

The dealer shook my hand and handed me the keys.
The spaceship was mine.
“What are you gonna name it?” asked the dealer. “We can paint it on the hull for you, no charge. And if you want us to work up a nice logo for it, that wouldn’t cost all that much.”
I looked the ship over, from engines to nosecone.
I drew a blank.
“How about George?” said a voice.
Was it the dealer?
No, he was gone, making another sale.
“My name is George,” said the ship. “Now let me come up with a name for you…”

The Cut

636179

Two rival teams of surgeons square off in the operating room.
“What are you doing here?” asks a doctor.
“Johnson at three?”
They all nod.
“Shit. Goddamned scheduling.”
The hospital administrator is called in to officiate. He tosses a coin.
“Heads,” says the anesthesiologist.
The teams scrub up, walking to opposite ends of the table.
One will work from the feet up, and the other down from the head.
“May the best team win,” says the administrator, and he drops a silk to the floor.
Under the mask, the patient breathes deep, and scalpels descend to make the opening cut.