Downtown.
Waiting for a bus.
Nobody around.
Except for a bum, pushing a grocery cart.
Don’t sit down. Don’t sit down.
He stops, sits down on the bench, and pulls out a bottle.
Shit.
“Empty,” he said, tossing it into the cart. “Make a wish.”
“I don’t believe in wishes,” I said. “You have to take matters into your own hands.”
I looked around, then down at my hands.
“Are you sure?” the bum asked.
I looked at the bus schedule. How much longer? Dammit, I wish-
The bum smiled at me.
“Wish granted.”
The bus arrived, I got on.
Tag: society
Sports
Back in high school, if you weren’t lettering in a sport, you had to take gym. Although, gym classes weren’t called gym.
Instead, it was called Life Sports. Activities you’d likely take up when you got older.
Except that I fucking hate golf. And tennis. And softball. And basketball. And lifting weights. And running.
Pretty much every activity I hate. Except horse riding. But they didn’t have horses. Thank God.
What do I like to do? I like to walk and throw darts in the pub.
That’s it.
Now get your fucking horse out of here. It’s blocking the dartboard.
Kiss Me
Johnny went through the whole bar, kissing everyone who had on a Kiss Me, I’m Irish button.
Some kissed him.
Some pulled away.
And a few screamed and slapped him.
One girl’s boyfriend threatened to punch out Johnny’s lights.
But the boyfriend had on one of those Kiss Me, I’m Irish buttons, so Johnny kissed him, too.
And the boyfriend punched out Johnny’s lights.
The incident got in the paper, then started a debate on dressing provocatively and free speech.
It wasn’t like shouting fire in a movie theater, but they wore those buttons, right.
Promises, promises.
Johnny’s still laughing.
Name Calling
Oh, the nasty name-calling!
Everybody calls Denzel an Oreo because he’s black, but he acts white.
Sung gets called a Twinkie because he’s Japanese, but he acts white.
Then there’s Morito. She’s gets called a coconut because she’s Samoan, but she acts white.
As long as there’s food that’s white on the inside, there will be racism.
Heck, there’s a food lab in New Jersey that’s working on a green food that is white on the inside so we can insult Martians who act white.
All these food-based insults explain why people are so damn fat these days.
And racists.
Naming
I know a guy who used to be named Steve.
He was named Steve until his parents had another kid.
They felt that the new kid ought to be named Steve.
So, they named the new kid Steve.
“That’s my name!” said the guy who was formerly Steve.
“No, it’s not,” said his parents. “It’s Steve’s name.”
When he asked what his new name was, his parents said “Who cares? All that matters now is Steve.”
Nowadays, he calls himself “The guy who used to be named Steve.”
Unless he’s performing on stage. Then he’s called “Tiffany.”
Hey, don’t judge!
Bugs
I wonder, if RAID kills bugs dead, are there other kinds of killing bugs?
I smacked a few dozen bugs with my shoe, but they were killed just as dead as the bugs I killed with RAID.
I tried a few other methods of killing bugs, but they were all killed dead.
Then, I learned the art of Necromancy, and killed a few bugs undead.
They turned into zombie bugs, crawling around and acting creepy… well… nothing really changed much, because that’s what bugs do. Crawl around and act creepy.
I smashed them with my shoe to finish them off.
Walrus
Don’t believe those TV shows where medical examiners run all kinds of tests to discover weird and unusual causes of death.
For the most part, it’s the same stuff:
Heart attack
Stroke
Car accident
Drowning
Choking
And natural causes
Over and over.
Just once, I’d like to write “walrus” as the cause of death.
Sadly, every time someone gets killed by a walrus, the goddamned family asks me to write “natural causes.”
“Walruses are natural, right?” they say.
Maybe. Maybe not.
Disney made robotic hippos for the jungle cruise. They could always make robotic walruses.
And sell them. As weapons.
Forgiveness
The Devil woke up, got out of bed, and went door to door asking everyone for forgiveness.
Most people wouldn’t answer the door.
Some would open the door, but leave the chain latched, and they’d listen. Then, they’d say no, or they’d say they don’t think they are allowed to forgive him.
“Anyone can forgive,” The Devil would say. But this never convinced anyone to forgive him.
Sometimes, a child would answer the door, and they’d forgive him, but children are innocent.
So, The Devil looked in their eyes, and he taught them Evil.
For that, he never forgave himself.
Bridge
Edwin, Edgar, Edward, and Eddington played bridge together every Sunday.
When Edgar had a heart attack, they moved the game to Edgar’s bedside.
The medication made his bidding a bit erratic.
Edgar got a pacemaker implanted, and he was fit to go.
Later, Eddington lost a thumb in a wood-cutting accident, but he learned to hold his cards with the remaining 9 fingers.
Edwin went deaf, but they worked around it. Hand signals.
Finally, Edward used the wrong kind of space heater for the game. They all suffocated and died.
So close to graduating high school. What a goddamned shame.
Stormy
They give names to hurricanes. And cyclones, taiphoons, and tropical storms.
The sun has a name. It’s a sunny day. That never changes, although my weird Aunt Ruth insists on calling it Gertrude after her dead sister. When she says it’s a Gertrudey day, we know to take away her car keys.
Now, they give names to winter storms.
I suppose it is a matter of time before they give names to everything else, like tornadoes.
I call tornadoes JESUS! or MOTHERFUCKER!
Gertrude called Ruth that when she poisoned her for stealing her boyfriend.
He vanished in an unnamed blizzard.