The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘Short Short Story’

James Noguchi, My Unfortunate (imaginary) Friend

What would happen if I had a friend named James Noguchi, and he and I went to a party.

James: Hey, check her out.
Me: Who?
James: The chick, dude. Check her out.
Me: She looks sociable. Gross.
James: You’re a loser. Come on, I’m going to talk with her.
Me: What? Why do I have to come? I can stand here and pretend to text while you go do that.
James: Dork. Come on. You and I will talk about something stupid and then ask her about her opinion.
Me: That’s your move?
James: What’s your move?
Me: Using the internet.
James (judging eyes)

(Walking toward the girl.)

James: (loudly) I just don’t think, if I could pick any non-traditional super-hero power … that I would pick the ability to tell exactly how much sodium my meal contains.
Me: And I think it’s very important to know how much sodium my meal has.
James: You can’t look at the label?
Me: Food has labels?
James: (to the girl) What do you think?
Girl: He’s got a point, labels are boring.
Me: See? Another illiterate person at this party, finally.
Girl (pity laugh)
James: (glaring at me) Don’t mind Brad, he doesn’t get out much.
Girl (laughs)
James: I’m James Noguchi.
Me: Wait, what about some guchi?
James: Not now, Brad.
Me: Please? Just a tiny bit of guchi?
Girl: I don’t get it.
James: My last name is Noguchi … Brad pretends it’s No. Guchi.
Me: ALL I WANT IS A LITTLE GUCHI!
Girl: …
James: I hate you Brad.
Me: Fine. No guchi. You win. You’re a hell of a negotiator, Noguchi.
Girl: I think my friend’s waving at me to meet some other people. Nice to meet you guys!
James: I seriously hate you Brad.
Me: Looks like I’m getting all the Noguchi I want tonight. Want to head to my place and play video games?

 

(There’s a guy at work with the last name Noguchi. I walked by, saw his last name, and immediately thought, “how about a little guchi? Please? Just some guchi?”)

Modern Day Mechanics

With the way computers are coming up so big, and people of all backgrounds are buying them – tech geeks are the modern day mechanics.

“Uhhh … hey, I have a question.”
“Yes, sir, how can I help you today?”
“Yeah … So … Uh … My computer … Um … Is always making noise. And I want it to stop.”
“Making noise, sir?”
“Yeah. Like … whirrrrr.”
“Sir?”
“Umm … ya know … it’ll just be sitting there and then … whirrrr.”
“Is this a laptop or a desktop?”
“It’s … uh … what’re … oh! It’s a lap – top.”
“You need a cooling fan. Aisle fourteen B.”
“A cooling fan?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What? What do you take me for? Are you guys just making up new parts all the time? This is –“
“We have a special right now, only fifteen dollars.”
“Oh … ok. Which aisle? Fourteen?”

Not Entirely Fruitless

I just read an interesting unfinished autobiography of “Dr.” Gorg Homkins.

The unfinished autobiography ended with this, “And so, with my last breath I bid the Earth farewell and thus ends my book”

Note the lack of punctuation that renders the autobiography unfinished. Scholars have debated for minutes at a time whether it was to be a period or exclamation point.

Obviously I am with the small, but tall, group of scholars that insist it was a pound sign. This we believe must be the case because “Dr.” Gorg had never once been slightly interesting or funny and so we figure he was due.

But why bring up “Dr.” Gorg to you? Ah yes, because I’m feeling morbid and whimsical. A classic combination of feelings made popular by the creepy man sitting by me at the bus stop.

You see, “Dr.” Gorg was a grave-digger who would cut open dead bodies to look for words inside them. The good “Doctor” believed every person had a last important message that they had to get out – some people managed to get this out before dying, but for others death came too soon. These people contained inside them a written copy of their last important message. And so, after what he described as an epiphany but I would describe as an addiction to smoking crushed up kitty litter, the good “Doctor” began digging up bodies for his research.

The research was fairly fruitless, except for two peculiar cases.

The first was Joanne Thompson, who was buried with a pineapple.

The second was Jeremy Privo, who choked while trying to eat a book, and died. The book was a Where’s Waldo, and fragments of the book were obtained by “Dr.” Gorg. These fragments listed things to look for, which the good “Doctor” set out to do. Perhaps in death he has found Wizard Whitebeard.

Reading this book, and about the case of young Mr. Privo has led me to a bold decision. I will not read anything that I cannot successfully eat! People meet me and think I love Kit Kat’s, this is simply not true. It’s just hard to find good reading material.

However you should be glad to know that my intellectual qualities have not been hurt by my lack of intellect. I often quote famous works of literature. I would dare to guess I use the word “the” at least five times a day. Someone you may be familiar with, one William Shakespeare, was also known to have used that word to some success.

Therefore, although the nearly finished autobiography of “Dr.” Gorg Homkins was incredibly boring, full of idiocy, painful, and led me to never again read a book – I would say the endeavor was not entirely fruitless. After all, the publisher had a sense of humor, and each book comes with a pineapple.