Long ago, I got so drunk, I woke up with a new tattoo.
It was a devil wrapped around an anchor, surrounded by flames.
I got it on my right arm, and when I flexed my muscles, the devil wiggled his tongue and the flames flared up around him.
However, last night, I got so drunk, I lost my tattoo.
And the arm it was on.
The surgeons said there was no hope of reattaching it. Just too mangled up, so I’m going to be fitted with a prosthetic arm.
Maybe I’ll think about getting the tattoo printed on it.
Tag: horror
Pageant
When I was in school, a teacher thought it would look cool to have crepe paper ribbons tied to our wrists for the Thanksgiving Pageant.
As we moved our arms for the song, the ribbons crinkled and waved.
Some kids tripped over them. Others got behind other kids and tried to strangle them.
Because they were crepe paper, they’d snap, so no kids got hurt when they tripped, and no kids ended up strangled.
The teacher, on the other hand, was found hanging from their belt in the bathroom.
For Christmas Pageant, the substitute just had us sing Jingle Bells.
Haunted
Call them Ghosts.
Collecting up all the papers of someone’s who’s died, processing them into an AI personality engine, and plugging it into a hologram might make sense for historical figures like Benjamin Franklin or Abraham Lincoln, but doing that with the Facebook and Twitter and blog and email archives of my son…
He stood there. Right by the coffin, delivering his own eulogy.
He can say he loves me and thanks me for everything, how much he misses his mother, but this is torture.
It’s 2AM. The bottle is empty.
Standing there. By the bed. Staring.
Turn it off!
More Circles
The world is a mess. And Hell is filling up quickly.
So, The Devil is adding circles to it to handle new sins.
For instance, there will be a circle for Spammers. They’ll be force-fed herbal supplements and smeared with noxious creams, giving them painfully massive erections and swollen breasts.
The rest of the damned will need to be moved to make use of the new space.
Diverting the river of fire.
Replanting the suicide wood.
Changing harpy flight paths.
And that’ll be a nightmare in logistics.
But then, it’s Hell. That’ll be a punishment for condemned change management consultants.
Seen Or Spoken
Today is my brother’s birthday.
I have not seen or spoken to him in years.
We fought a lot when we were growing up, and it never stopped.
Mom kept trying to get us not to fight and to bury the hatchet, but Dad never got along with his brother, so he totally understood and respected our decision to stay the hell away from each other.
So, when one day my brother shows up, yeah, I buried the hatchet.
Into his chest.
I buried the body in the back yard.
So, yeah, I haven’t seen or spoken to him.
Satisfied?
Bates
Back in the old days,
Norman ran The Bates Motel on a shoestring,
earning a few bucks here and there from people
who’d stay at the motel.
And for those who stayed
permanently,
I suppose he’d get a bit more,
since those folks didn’t really need all that
money and stuff they had with them.
If Norman had been around these days,
well, he’d have had a problem with social networking,
people tweeting
“A crazy guy in a dress
is stabbing me in the shower!”
and that kind
of hassle.
But at least the Yelp reviews
would actually be: “YELP!”
Sudden Twins
We brought the baby home from the hospital, and just as Sharon was preparing to give him his first feeding, we heard the doorbell.
I opened it.
Three men in environment suits standing there, and a large van parked in the driveway.
“There’s been a mistake,” said one, holding a baby swaddled in a blue cloth. “You had twins.”
Another held a Geiger Counter, watching the dial and sweating. “Hurry up, guys.”
I took the baby… and shut the door.
I looked at the baby.
It glowed orange.
Yes. Orange.
At least we won’t lose him in the dark, right?
Shuggoth
I remember back when Chunky soup said they could be eaten with a fork.
These days, you need a gun and knife.
Yeah, I know. Cream Of Shuggoth Soup is crazy, right? But it’s cheap and nutritious, so the soup kitchens in New England have been buying it by the barrel.
The shuggoth are supposed to be killed before getting chopped up and dumped in the soup, but every now and then a tentacle survives the boiling process and you end up with a regrettable incident.
Just read the label and don’t microwave the stuff.
(The magnetrons revive the things.)
Zombie Chess
It’s fun to play Zombie Chess.
Just gather up zombies, dress them up like chesspieces, and nailgun then to the platforms so they’ll stay put.
Okay, so it can be a bit scary, walking around the board and shoving the zombies around as each move is called, but it’s satisfying when a piece is captured and you get to chop them to bits.
However, when a pawn reaches the final row, it would take a while to get that pawn stripped and recostumed as a queen.
So, we cut corners.
Here’s your crown…
THUNK!
Once again, thank goodness for nailguns.
Tesla
When Fiorello Laguardia said “But Tesla is not dead, not really dead… only his body lays still.” In his eulogy to the great inventor, he wasn’t lying.
Hours earlier, LaGuardia stared at a massive underground array of dynamos, cables, and engines bathed in lightning.
“GREETINGS, FRIEND,” boomed the voice of Tesla, whom LaGuardia had just seen in the funeral home that morning.
“Shouldn’t I tell the people of this miracle?” asked LaGuardia.
A large box with a shiny tube turned to point at him.
“Never mind,” said the mayor, recognizing the Death Ray. “We’ll just hold a funeral procession, okay?”