The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘Short Short Story’

Superman – Good for the People?

Metropolis, one of the greatest cities in the world. With a population of about 11 million people (as of the last census), it is, indeed, a thriving metrop … city.

A titan of industry, a center for culture, and a hub for the cutting edge – what’s not to love about Metropolis. Until, that is … that fateful day in 1939.

On that day Superman arrived. Oh, great, Superman!, you may think, he saves people!

Sure, he saves people. But you know what he also does? He attracts trouble like a magic magnet.

Take Robert Turns, a man who owns his own vacuum repair shop in downtown Metropolis. That is, owned his own vacuum repair shop. After Superman arrived the insurance company raised the rates for insuring his building by 48%, a rate that Mr. Turns simply couldn’t keep up with. Superman can’t rescue him from drowning, because he’s just drowning in his sorrows.

Another example is Susana Bishop. Susana was walking her two dogs, Yip and Yap, on a lovely September afternoon. She was at her favorite park enjoying the day. Suddenly Superman slammed into the ground about 500 yards in front of her with such force that his body moved along the earth, causing a trail of destruction. Horrified that Superman was hurt and shocked by the sudden disruption of her beautiful day, Susana stood frozen. Superman, at the time fighting one of countless unpleasant fellows he attracts to our dear city, skid along the earth until he was less than one yard from her body. Susana, regaining her senses, rushed to his aid. Superman thanked her and bolted to continue, and eventually win, his fight. But at what cost? Susana is now afraid to leave her home, isolated in hopes that she won’t run into trouble.

The current count of people out of a home because a Superman fight spilled into an apartment-filled area of town is at 3,487. This is just one small sample of the countless amount of destruction that has come about as a result of Superman’s presence in our dear city.

I ask you, as a mild-mannered reporter, is Superman good for the people? Or should he get out of town for a few years and take a vacation?

Whisper’s What’s What

Step up, shut up and listen up folks because I’ve got a tale to tell. A little less than a bit of time ago I was as open-eyed and curious and full of crum-dumb tomfoolery something or other. But now with Whisper’s What’s What I can see more than the average, I hear more than two ears should be expected to hear, and I can smell what ails you.

And what ails you, dear friends, is a lack of confidence.

And what else ails you?, eh?, I’ll tell you – it’s a lack of memory. And of confidence.

But shh, stare no more at my shirtless, shining, gleaming, muscled up bodice, belly button lint-free I might add: for I am just a representation of what you could be had you a bottle of Whisper’s What What.

How?, what?, for me?, for … free?

FREE! Yes I said the OTHER magic word, not thanks, not skanks, not hi-janks to get you some product seduced by sex and selective feelings of superiority. No, no. This is a guaranteed, bonified to leave you stupefied pro-duct. I wouldn’t emphasize the pro if I didn’t feel confident about Whisper’s What What.

How much, then, hm? How much would you pay to be the shining example, to be the boy, the girl, the man, the woman on the poster? Hm? How much would you pay to be the one people look to in the grocery store thinking, ‘I bet HE knows where they keep the protein bars.’ I ask you – do YOU know where they keep the protein bars?

YOU sir, you with the brown trousers, the two-toned shirt that’s brown on the bottom, green on the top with green sleeves, (you look like a plant), do YOU know where they keep the protein bars?

Oh you do, eh? What’s that? It’s because you had just one sample of Whisper’s What’s What!? Why, just yesterday? My brother must have been out here giving samples! That old scrapperdoodle. I’ll give him a what one, make it two, no three, better make it a what for.

Just a little humor folks. Yes you, like me, could be attracting audiences like this one, up to TWO people at a time! One plant and one confused looking little old lady. Ma’am?

…Oh. Yeah, the Wal-Mart’s up there.

To My Love, From the Attic, With Love

This story is really unfortunate and creepy for this woman, so for that reason I feel bad writing an (attempt at) funny post based on this. But, obviously, not so bad that I’m not here writing it.

The story is: A woman in North Carolina lives with her kids, and she heard a noise in the attic. Thinking it was an animal she sent her eldest and one of her nephews to check it out and … not an animal, but her ex-boyfriend. An ex-boyfriend from TWELVE years ago! He had been released from prison two weeks ago and decided to take up residence in her attic.

They found coats and such he used to pack in there to create a nice little bedroom. And, how lovely, cups of feces and urine, because nature calls.

Now, for your cringing, my guess as to his inner-journal.


August 27 – I’m so psyched to get out of prison! This place is the worst! It smells gross, there’s no privacy, the food is tolerable at best (except for Mash Mondays, when we watch Mash while eating). I think, most of all, I’m excited to see my beautiful ex. I haven’t figured out yet how to win her back … I know it’s been twelve years … but she’s so beautiful! How could I not at least try!? I’d hate myself forever for that.

It’s ridiculous but prison has changed me into a better man … Not because of anything they did, but because I want her back. And keeping me from her? – well, that’s a reason to change.

August 28 – I got to her place. The memories came flooding back! I can’t wait to surprise her! I went to knock on the door but got all nervous, and had to hide when I heard her coming to the door. What do I say? “Hey … I’ve missed you like crazy … I can do 200 push-ups in one sitting, now. Wanna see?” Hey, that’s actually pretty good.

August 31 – Hm. Things took a turn today. Sometimes I make a fairly innocent bad decision, and then I feel stuck, and I end up making a few more bad decisions. It’s not a good thing, I know, but it could happen to anyone.

I came up to her house to knock on her door. I was so nervous. But then I did it! I finally did it! I was there, waiting for her to come to the door when I heard a car coming up. It was her! Oh my GOD! I didn’t expect this … I had been practicing in my head for her to open the door and greet me … and … and then I’d make a speech on the porch and she’d take me back … This was all wrong for her to be on the driveway, so I took the nearest exit – which was inside the house.

Guys, I’m in her attic. I’m just waiting it out though, she’ll leave and I’ll run outside and try again.

September 1 – Oh man oh man oh man I have to go to the bathroom so bad I can’t focus. Don’t these people EVER LEAVE?

September 4 – Time has been moving by pretty quickly here. This is a crazy household! Kids running around, the mom (my love) yelling at them, cooking up some good food, me sneaking down when they’re all asleep to get food and more jars to poop in. It’s great. Every once and a while I picture me down there, with them, being a dad and husband. It’s beautiful. I wish I had grabbed some lids for those jars though. Talk about stinky.

September 6 – “Heya dad!”
“Heya son!”
“How was your day?”
“Oh, the usual grind, son. I went to work, accomplished stuff. Came home and brought your mom some flowers.”
“She’ll love them, dad! They’re nice!”
“Thanks son.”
“Boy you’ve come a long way from that time you were secretly living in our attic, and then you fell through the ceiling during dinner, and mom looked so angry but then she just started laughing … and we all were laughing, and she just said, ‘I’ve missed you.’ And you said, ‘I’ve missed you too.’ And then she said, ‘Apparently you haven’t missed deodorant!’ That was so funny, dad!”
“Yeah, son, yeah it was …”

I’ve been picturing the future … and it goes like that. I change it up some, though. I haven’t decided yet how I’m going to leave the attic and re-introduce love.

September 7 – I can hold my breath for what I think is about two minutes. And then I sort of pass out for a while. It helps me deal with the stink.

September 8 – WAIT A MINUTE! Newsflash! When I sneak downstairs to steal food I should also use the bathroom! MAN! This is revolutionary.

September 9 – You know what seems like a lot of work? Raising kids. Having a job. Taking care of a wife. Doing stuff. You know what I know for a fact is NOT a lot of work? Pooping in jars and sleeping in an attic. I’m having second thoughts here.

September 10 – Sorry about yesterday … I wasn’t myself. I do want her back. I want to LIVE LIFE! I also want to shower. I’m going to start practicing my grand take me back speech. Here are the ingredients:

150 push-ups (don’t put it all out there right away)
200 sit-ups
a poem that has her name in it and rhymes
a talk about how I have grown up (don’t slip up and mention the attic thing)
a talk about how much I will do for her (exaggeration is key)

September 11 – I was just practicing and … oh crap … I think they heard me …

Pavlov’s Prison

Sheriff Joe was a cruel, cruel man. Well, unless you asked him. In that case he was a clever S.O.B. with a twisted sense of humor. If you asked one of his inmates though, he was a cruel, cruel man.

“Let’s think about the facts – most prisoners are men. Men commit more violent crimes. And this idea, frankly, is geared toward men.”

The inmates hated it but what was the other option, to avoid it altogether?

“I got the idea one night when my wife, Ava Maria, she was watching some documentary on that fella Pavlov. He had the dogs. And they’d go crazy for bells. I thought about it, and I decided I could use that for the benefit of society.” Then Joe adds with a laugh, “Not bells, exactly, of course.”

The declaration came out, conjugal visits would be allowed, but there was a certain drawback.

During the course of the visit, a police siren will play the whole time in the conjugal trailer.

Joey Lawrence, 36, summed up his and the rest of the prisoners reactions with one word – “Wow.”

“I figure,” Joe says with a grin, “It’ll be awful damn hard to run from the cops with an erection. And hey, maybe it’ll make some of these fellas come to appreciate the police in a whole new way.”

Back to Her Lair

“We went back to the barn; I made love to her under the tarantula. What was the tarantula doing?” I’m reading On The Road, by Jack Kerouac (it’s taking me forever because … well, because I’m lazy). This is a passage in the book, and it got me thinking about sex and tarantulas (which is weird and frightening). And out popped this weird story.


I had a certain amount of drinks to get to the point of talking to her. Then I had a few more with her and her friends. All the sudden, what do you know, I didn’t exactly know what I was doing.

We had been talking and drinking for a while. Our faces were sort of close together at one point and we kissed. If I told you it was nice I wouldn’t necessarily be lying, I honestly don’t remember if it was nice. But she was pretty, and I want it to have been nice, so I’ll say it was nice.

She had told me about a party she recently helped host and they had these cupcakes, so many leftover cupcakes, and did I want one. I said “I’d rather have some sugar!” and I kissed her again. She laughed and kissed me back. This told me she had also been drinking a lot. A lot, a lot.

Then I was being led out of the bar, waving goodbye to her friends. She was taking me to get a cupcake. This seemed like a nice thing, but I wanted to keep kissing her. At some point, on the walk to her place, I realized she maybe didn’t just mean a cupcake. I gave her a sidelong glance, which she noticed, and responded to by shouting, “I’M DRUUUUNK.” This seemed like the perfectly romantic thing to say, so I laughed and snorted, which we both found pretty amusing. Maybe too amusing, because I was laughing so much it made me want to throw up. Love is a strange thing, I suppose.

At her place we were kissing and she was kiss-walking backwards toward her bed. I was kissing her and taking little glances of the apartment.

That’s when I noticed Chimichanga. Chimi, for short.

Chimi was the name of her tarantula.

Chimi was in a cage, but it was still unsettling. She must have noticed a slight look of horror and confusion on my face because she laughed. “Oh, that’s Chimichanga, Chimi for short.” She said this matter-of-factly. In my opinion there is nothing matter-of-fact about a pet spider. Although I had to give her credit for not naming it Harry.

Things were theoretically heating up between us, and I was moving around and kissing her, but my mind was on Chimi.

How secure was that cage? Was Chimi watching us?

Oh look at those 8 slutty humans, Chimi would think with it’s eight, bulbous, creepy eyes. ‘Oh this really means something, the Taquila tells me so!’ Pft. Typical humans.

Chimi, you cynical-in-love, frightening little bug.

Wait what was that noise? Holy crap I’m not wearing a shirt now. Touché to this little drunk minx. How did I not notice that? When she was taking off my shirt I could’ve snuck another glance! Oh I know, I’ll take off her shirt and do it all wrong so it gets stuck coming over her head, and then maybe I’ll kill her pet.

Is that weird? That’s probably weird.

No, that’s not weird. What’s weird is having a tarantula!

Focus. She’s pretty. She’s kissing me. She laughs at bad jokes. I like this girl.

I wonder if she does baby talk to the spider? I bet she does. I don’t know if I can handle that.

Ok I’m going to sneak a look …

AH! I didn’t see him! Or her? It? It probably has boy and girl parts. Frightening little creature is probably breeding right now. How many spiders are born at once? This whole line of thought is bad. Stop it.

Maybe I should ask the girl if I can turn on the lights? Or suggest we go to my apartment. Wait, I’m drunk. The spider could drive?

Oh shoot I just giggled.

“Did … you just laugh?”
“I’m just … happy.”

Well-played drunk self.

The bed is probably about four feet from the cage. FOUR FEET. That’s it! I bet it could JUMP four feet!

Oh we’re taking off our pants now. This is so bittersweet. I bet Chimi is calculating some diabolical plan. Is Chimi some all-family-jewels-are-my-enemies breed of spider? Probably. No, that doesn’t make sense. Or does it? This girl is far too good looking to be with me. Just how drunk is she? Does she give booze to the spider? Is the spider drunk right now too? That would really relax me to know that, actually.

“Talk dirty to me.”

Talk DIRTY to you? Like, how your apartment is full of SPIDERS? Sure, yeah, my apartment has spiders too, but I don’t INVITE them in! You’ve hung up a big, ‘hey spiders, come on in, it’s cool’ sign and that is dirty.

“Um, imagine … uh …”
“You don’t have to talk dirty. It’s ok.”

Good. Wait. Bad. Now I’m just going to go back to thinking about spiders. Dang it.

“Oh …”

Oh? Oh! … Oooh. Should I go hold her hair for her? AH! The spider is at the edge of the cage, just staring at me! Oh wow, that’s a lot of puke coming out of that girl.

Spider, or vomit-stink? I need to make some changes in my life, this should not be my most pressing question right now. This should NEVER be my most pressing question.

Maybe I could get her to puke on the spider? … It’d be tough to swing that. Maybe I could force myself to puke on the spider. What if it jumped out and attacked my face!? Puke it is.

“I’m so sorry …”
“Oh it’s ok … want me to hold your hair … or something …”
“No … I’m really sorry …”
“It’s ok. Want me to get you a cup of water?”
“Yeah that’d be nice.”

Ok … a stranger’s kitchen … where would I be least likely to put the cups … Oh a bowl … I could trap the spider under the bowl … I should turn on the lights in the room and check the cage to make sure it’s well-built. Who has a spider?! What is wrong with this girl! She should warn people about owning a spider! Oh she does have that spider tattoo … I remember thinking, ‘what a weirdo’ but then I got distracted by taking a shot.

Her roommates are home! Oh crap. I’m almost naked. And standing in the kitchen.


Oh, they’re drunk too.

“We were making out and then her spider made her puke cause it’s evil.”

Maybe shouldn’t have said that.

“Bahahahaha! Chimi?”
“It looked like he had ill-intentions …”
“Hahahaha you’re … dumb.”
“Least I’m not evil.”
“You’re being serious about the spider?”
“…No? I’m kidding?”
“You should go.”
“I’m going to put on my pants first …”

The End

P.S. Minutes after I left the spider finished its devious plans, escaped the cage once and for all, and killed all those drunk chicks. At least in my head this is what happened.

What a Fun Trip!

And then I said “wow what a trip!,” and mom said, “that was a fun trip,” and I thought, “holy cow mom’s on acid!” and she said, “no I’m not on acid I meant the family vacation,” and then she turned into a dragon and ate dad and I thought, “maybe this isn’t a fun trip.”

Uhhh … What?

A guy I work with uses the word “dragon” as a synonym for a problem of any kind.

“Get to work on this and you’ll find some dragons!”
“I bet there’s a whole box of dragons once you get into that.”

I had a meeting with him and he talked about dragons, and I tried to focus while thinking about my upcoming trip – and voila – that piece of weird up top came out.

Lost Shakespeare Transcript Found!

Amazing! I don’t know how these things happen, but I found a transcript of a conversation THE William Shakespeare had with a certain love interest. Here we go, from me to you!

* * *

William Shakespeare (WS): Hey honey. I’m home.
Love Interest (LI): Darling!! How was your day?
WS: Not bad, not bad. I drank, and I wrote a play.
LI: Oh! I’m so proud of you!!
WS: Thanks. It’s called Hamlet.
LI: Aw! Did you write it while you were thinking of me? Like how your ex inspired you to write Romeo and Juliet with your amazing love?
WS: Uh … Yeah I actually did think about you while I wrote this.
LI: We can talk later! Let me read it!! Wow! I’m your muse!!

(Later that day)

LI: What the hell, Bill.
WS: You read it?
LI: Uh. Yeah.
WS: Ha … so … did you like it?
LI: Talk about your all time passive aggressive.
WS: What? With my ex I thought about love so strong you couldn’t live without it. With you I thought of … murder. It’s just a different dynamic?
LI: I seriously hate you.
WS: Awww come on!
LI: How can you think our relationship is good if, while dating me, you write a play where EVERYONE DIES.
WS: Life is fleeting. Just like relationships.
LI: …
WS: Oh. Whoops. Haha! Um, no. Let me say that again. Life is fleeting. Unlike our relationship?
LI: …
WS: …Who wants ice cream?

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