I hate practical jokes. Well, I hate being the receiver of them. I guess I just don’t take it well. Let me just say this now. All my life I have been the butt of one big joke. For instance, this year for my birthday, my mother “baked” me a cake. It was made of concrete. She thought she was pretty clever.
I thought I was pretty clever when I baked her in the oven.
Last week, I went camping with a friend. He thought it would be funny to leave a used condom in my tent at night and thank me the next morning.
I thought it would be funny to castrate him and make him choke on it.
My old boss got a big laugh out of pretending to fire me yesterday.
I’m going to get a big laugh when they fire the cannon on the square and chunks of him will come flying out.
Next week is the first day of April. It’s going to be a fun day.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Pound of Gold
A man stands on the corner of a busy street, holding a sign that declares the end of the world is near. It also, curiously, says that God has forsaken him and the rest of humanity.
The man is Abe Samuels, a former CEO and father of two. However, this week has opened Abe to a new version of the hell in which he was living. A car wreck killed his children, his wife left him because she couldn’t handle the stress, his company went bankrupt, and the bank froze his assets pending a lengthy investigation of the company.
So, here stands Abe Samuels, a man who sees the God in which he used to believe as having turned his almighty back to him.
As he holds the sign, taking his anger out on the cars and passers-by, a man approaches him. He wears a white suit and black pants, and he sported spiky blond hair.
“I think you’re wrong,” the spiky-haired man told Abe.
“I think you’re stupid. What’s it to you what I believe?” Abe shot back, angrily.
“It matters a lot. God hasn’t forgotten you. What has happened was all part of his plan. He is only testing you, like how your refrigerator broke this morning. This is all a test to reaffirm your faith in the Lord.” The man smiled broadly.
“Whatever,” spat Abe. “Why don’t you get out of here before I reaffirm my faith in these boots as having a steel toe? I have given up on God, just as he has given up on me. Nothing is going to change that. Now go on. Beat it!”
The man sighed and walked off, turning into a dark alleyway.
Something struck Abe as odd suddenly. He started to think about what the man had said, and how he mentioned his refrigerator breaking that morning. He hadn’t told anyone, and not just for the fact that he had no one to tell.
“Hey!” he yelled toward where the man had gone. He tossed his sign to the ground and gave chase. He knew the man couldn’t have gotten far.
However, the alley ended in a brick wall. The only thing he found in the alley was a pile of feathers. He took one look, went home, and began to pray for forgiveness.
The man is Abe Samuels, a former CEO and father of two. However, this week has opened Abe to a new version of the hell in which he was living. A car wreck killed his children, his wife left him because she couldn’t handle the stress, his company went bankrupt, and the bank froze his assets pending a lengthy investigation of the company.
So, here stands Abe Samuels, a man who sees the God in which he used to believe as having turned his almighty back to him.
As he holds the sign, taking his anger out on the cars and passers-by, a man approaches him. He wears a white suit and black pants, and he sported spiky blond hair.
“I think you’re wrong,” the spiky-haired man told Abe.
“I think you’re stupid. What’s it to you what I believe?” Abe shot back, angrily.
“It matters a lot. God hasn’t forgotten you. What has happened was all part of his plan. He is only testing you, like how your refrigerator broke this morning. This is all a test to reaffirm your faith in the Lord.” The man smiled broadly.
“Whatever,” spat Abe. “Why don’t you get out of here before I reaffirm my faith in these boots as having a steel toe? I have given up on God, just as he has given up on me. Nothing is going to change that. Now go on. Beat it!”
The man sighed and walked off, turning into a dark alleyway.
Something struck Abe as odd suddenly. He started to think about what the man had said, and how he mentioned his refrigerator breaking that morning. He hadn’t told anyone, and not just for the fact that he had no one to tell.
“Hey!” he yelled toward where the man had gone. He tossed his sign to the ground and gave chase. He knew the man couldn’t have gotten far.
However, the alley ended in a brick wall. The only thing he found in the alley was a pile of feathers. He took one look, went home, and began to pray for forgiveness.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Old News
“It’s the apocalypse, Pete!” yelled Jacob as an explosion lit the skies. Downtown, which was close to Jacob, was suddenly and violently filled with screams and bright explosions. Already having flashbacks to World War II, Jacob began to panic even more when he saw people shambling about, going to and from the location of the explosions.
Pete, his loyal old dog, growled feebly at the people passing by. They appeared to be walking corpses, and this became clear to Jacob after another bright explosion lit the area enough for his old eyes to see clear enough.
Jacob turned for his door and yanked Pete’s collar. The old hound went tumbling in with Jacob as he slammed the door shut and went about setting the various locks in his house.
After securely locking down his house and setting in place his window bars, he got up the nerve to take a peek outside. Out there, the sky flashed with explosions that rocked his house. Suddenly, a face popped up right in front of him. Startled, he fell backwards and onto his coffee table.
“I know you’re in there old man,” the person outside groaned. From the lighting inside his house, he could see the burn marks and missing flesh on the person’s face.
Shouting wildly he hit the lights and ran to his bedroom, which was upstairs. Pete was right behind him.
The man outside banged on his door. “Come out and join the party!” he groaned in a dead voice. After a few breathless minutes, the banging stopped and Jacob figured the man would bring a whole horde of his undead friends back to get him.
He reached into his dresser drawer and moved away his socks, retrieving a pistol. “They’ve been saying the zombie apocalypse was coming, ol’ Pete. I read it on them sites. Now it’s true. I’m sorry old boy,” he said, aiming the gun at his lifelong companion, curled up on a pile of that week’s newspapers.
The dog died with only a quiet whimper. Next, Jacob turned the gun on himself.
“I planned for this day so carefully, but now they know I’m in here. Damn it, Sally, I’m coming to see you,” he said as he pulled the trigger.
That was not his last though, however. The very last thing that went through his mind in the last few moments while he was still alive was a headline on one of the newspapers under Pete.
“Zombie Costume Party Downtown Halloween Night.”
Pete, his loyal old dog, growled feebly at the people passing by. They appeared to be walking corpses, and this became clear to Jacob after another bright explosion lit the area enough for his old eyes to see clear enough.
Jacob turned for his door and yanked Pete’s collar. The old hound went tumbling in with Jacob as he slammed the door shut and went about setting the various locks in his house.
After securely locking down his house and setting in place his window bars, he got up the nerve to take a peek outside. Out there, the sky flashed with explosions that rocked his house. Suddenly, a face popped up right in front of him. Startled, he fell backwards and onto his coffee table.
“I know you’re in there old man,” the person outside groaned. From the lighting inside his house, he could see the burn marks and missing flesh on the person’s face.
Shouting wildly he hit the lights and ran to his bedroom, which was upstairs. Pete was right behind him.
The man outside banged on his door. “Come out and join the party!” he groaned in a dead voice. After a few breathless minutes, the banging stopped and Jacob figured the man would bring a whole horde of his undead friends back to get him.
He reached into his dresser drawer and moved away his socks, retrieving a pistol. “They’ve been saying the zombie apocalypse was coming, ol’ Pete. I read it on them sites. Now it’s true. I’m sorry old boy,” he said, aiming the gun at his lifelong companion, curled up on a pile of that week’s newspapers.
The dog died with only a quiet whimper. Next, Jacob turned the gun on himself.
“I planned for this day so carefully, but now they know I’m in here. Damn it, Sally, I’m coming to see you,” he said as he pulled the trigger.
That was not his last though, however. The very last thing that went through his mind in the last few moments while he was still alive was a headline on one of the newspapers under Pete.
“Zombie Costume Party Downtown Halloween Night.”
Sunday, April 17, 2011
No Will
David now sits in the living room of what just used to be his parents’ house, contemplating suicide and looking back on how he wasted his life.
Days ago, in the same house, David lived with his parents. He stayed in their basement, which had been made-over to become a living area rather than just storage space. Because he had his own microwave, refrigerator, and bathroom in the basement, David rarely left his “man cave.”
However, had he bothered to venture out into the ‘real world’ of upstairs, he would have know what was about to happen to him. His parents were tired of him mooching all day with no job for years. His mother, who for years had been trying to pretend that this was only a setback, finally saw that David was turning into a worthless lump in their basement. He was little more to them than someone they saw once a month when they brought him fresh groceries.
They had agreed to change their will to leave him enough money to get an apartment for a short while, but not enough for him to live without a job. They wanted it so that he would be forced to be useful for the first time in a long time in his life.
It wasn’t long after they met with their lawyer to get their will changed that they both were killed in a car wreck. The worst part about their deaths is that David only found out when his brother came to tell him about the terms of the will.
The real reason that David’s brother had come was to tell him he needed to move out. He was left the house, not David. He gave David the check for the few hundred dollars left to him in the will, and told him that he had until the end of the day to get his stuff out of there. His parents left strict orders in his will that he move out. With the paltry sum of money he had, David quickly gathered that he would have to get a job.
After his brother left, David pondered the future. He realized that he would be hard-pressed to find a job, being as old as he was and having done nothing with his life. He also didn’t want to have to face the reality of not having his parents to care for him and buy him groceries. Having to learn to fly was a horrifying idea for the chick that had spent far too many years in the nest.
So, here sits David, in the living room of what used to be his parents’ house, contemplating suicide and looking back on how he ruined his life. Soon, he thought to himself as he toyed with the gun in his hand, my brother will be here.
Days ago, in the same house, David lived with his parents. He stayed in their basement, which had been made-over to become a living area rather than just storage space. Because he had his own microwave, refrigerator, and bathroom in the basement, David rarely left his “man cave.”
However, had he bothered to venture out into the ‘real world’ of upstairs, he would have know what was about to happen to him. His parents were tired of him mooching all day with no job for years. His mother, who for years had been trying to pretend that this was only a setback, finally saw that David was turning into a worthless lump in their basement. He was little more to them than someone they saw once a month when they brought him fresh groceries.
They had agreed to change their will to leave him enough money to get an apartment for a short while, but not enough for him to live without a job. They wanted it so that he would be forced to be useful for the first time in a long time in his life.
It wasn’t long after they met with their lawyer to get their will changed that they both were killed in a car wreck. The worst part about their deaths is that David only found out when his brother came to tell him about the terms of the will.
The real reason that David’s brother had come was to tell him he needed to move out. He was left the house, not David. He gave David the check for the few hundred dollars left to him in the will, and told him that he had until the end of the day to get his stuff out of there. His parents left strict orders in his will that he move out. With the paltry sum of money he had, David quickly gathered that he would have to get a job.
After his brother left, David pondered the future. He realized that he would be hard-pressed to find a job, being as old as he was and having done nothing with his life. He also didn’t want to have to face the reality of not having his parents to care for him and buy him groceries. Having to learn to fly was a horrifying idea for the chick that had spent far too many years in the nest.
So, here sits David, in the living room of what used to be his parents’ house, contemplating suicide and looking back on how he ruined his life. Soon, he thought to himself as he toyed with the gun in his hand, my brother will be here.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Morning Coffee
The oily sheen in my freshly brewed, black coffee swirls about and breaks apart, forming numerous swirling spirals and circles, constantly changing. They are the galaxies I have created.
I wonder what planets might exist in my little universe. I blow and poke at the surface of my morning brew, destroying galaxies and civilizations with every stab. Blowing sends the universe into upheaval, entire solar systems crashing into one another. I laugh, applauding myself for being such a wicked deity today.
I take a sip and nearly heave. The brew is bitter and I can almost feel it fighting back. It tastes like anguish. It’s not nearly as bad as the universe in my soup last night. Gave me heartburn with all the fires of Hell.
Being God isn’t easy, especially when you create life every time you wake up. Watch out, humans. Tomorrow, I might decide to have your doughnut for breakfast.
I wonder what planets might exist in my little universe. I blow and poke at the surface of my morning brew, destroying galaxies and civilizations with every stab. Blowing sends the universe into upheaval, entire solar systems crashing into one another. I laugh, applauding myself for being such a wicked deity today.
I take a sip and nearly heave. The brew is bitter and I can almost feel it fighting back. It tastes like anguish. It’s not nearly as bad as the universe in my soup last night. Gave me heartburn with all the fires of Hell.
Being God isn’t easy, especially when you create life every time you wake up. Watch out, humans. Tomorrow, I might decide to have your doughnut for breakfast.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Lost and Found
Lost and found bins are often full of unclaimed items such as coats and watches. Derrick, a cheapskate, frequented them in an effort to save money on clothes. Distance was not a problem for him, as he did not mind having to travel to a new bin location.
“Yes, that’s mine,” he said as he pointed to a nice hat at his latest stop, a train depot. He had spotted a well-worn bowler that he thought looked like it would go well with his other ill-gotten finery.
Laughing at his good fortune and at yet another successful scam, he donned the hat and went back to his house for a well-deserved rest.
His house was decorated with all the finest in whatever he could get on sale at the thrift store or ‘liberate’ from large chain stores. He lived alone at that house for obvious reasons, namely that he loathed spending money even on himself.
Lacking anyone to talk to, he opted to parade in front of his bathroom mirror for him to see all of his ‘glory.’
Though over the next few days he found many items, he always wore the bowler, having taken a shine to it.
One morning, though, Derrick awoke to find that he was losing clumps of his hair. Deciding against shelling out for a doctor, he contended that he never liked hair. Besides, he thought, it would save him money on shampoo.
However, he would not be able to remain so optimistic over the next few days. He would die in his yard, trying to save money by refusing an ambulance.
The paramedics, noting his death, went to move his body when the hat fell off, revealing a grim sight: he lacked skin where the hat was.
Seeing this, the paramedics called the CDC, who in turn called HAZMAT. It turned out the hat belonged to a homegrown terrorist who had been working on a dirty bomb.
Though the official cause of death was listed as radiation poisoning, it could just have been greed.
“Yes, that’s mine,” he said as he pointed to a nice hat at his latest stop, a train depot. He had spotted a well-worn bowler that he thought looked like it would go well with his other ill-gotten finery.
Laughing at his good fortune and at yet another successful scam, he donned the hat and went back to his house for a well-deserved rest.
His house was decorated with all the finest in whatever he could get on sale at the thrift store or ‘liberate’ from large chain stores. He lived alone at that house for obvious reasons, namely that he loathed spending money even on himself.
Lacking anyone to talk to, he opted to parade in front of his bathroom mirror for him to see all of his ‘glory.’
Though over the next few days he found many items, he always wore the bowler, having taken a shine to it.
One morning, though, Derrick awoke to find that he was losing clumps of his hair. Deciding against shelling out for a doctor, he contended that he never liked hair. Besides, he thought, it would save him money on shampoo.
However, he would not be able to remain so optimistic over the next few days. He would die in his yard, trying to save money by refusing an ambulance.
The paramedics, noting his death, went to move his body when the hat fell off, revealing a grim sight: he lacked skin where the hat was.
Seeing this, the paramedics called the CDC, who in turn called HAZMAT. It turned out the hat belonged to a homegrown terrorist who had been working on a dirty bomb.
Though the official cause of death was listed as radiation poisoning, it could just have been greed.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
It’s Golden
I loved my wife, her smile, her hair, everything about her. Well, almost everything.
Every day she would sing the same song over and over. She said something about it helping her with stress or something about her father and when she was a kid. I didn’t listen to her sob story because after so many days of listening to it I just did not care. Excuses were all she had.
I just wanted her to be quiet. I knew she had a troubled childhood. She kept trying to cry on my shoulder. I just wanted some quiet around the house. I didn’t know that trying to kiss her would send her into this…this song.
One day, I snapped. I just wanted her to shut up. To stop her singing. I put my hand around her mouth to get some quiet around here. She squirmed, so I pressed tighter and tighter. Suddenly, she went limp. I had killed her.
I wasn’t worried, though. She had no parents and I hadn’t any friends. We lived on her parents’ old farm, and it was so remote no one would come looking for her.
Even though she’s gone, I still remember the sound of her voice, and that song. That’s not the worst thing about life nowadays.
The silence is driving me mad.
Every day she would sing the same song over and over. She said something about it helping her with stress or something about her father and when she was a kid. I didn’t listen to her sob story because after so many days of listening to it I just did not care. Excuses were all she had.
I just wanted her to be quiet. I knew she had a troubled childhood. She kept trying to cry on my shoulder. I just wanted some quiet around the house. I didn’t know that trying to kiss her would send her into this…this song.
One day, I snapped. I just wanted her to shut up. To stop her singing. I put my hand around her mouth to get some quiet around here. She squirmed, so I pressed tighter and tighter. Suddenly, she went limp. I had killed her.
I wasn’t worried, though. She had no parents and I hadn’t any friends. We lived on her parents’ old farm, and it was so remote no one would come looking for her.
Even though she’s gone, I still remember the sound of her voice, and that song. That’s not the worst thing about life nowadays.
The silence is driving me mad.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
In the Water
There’s something in the water.
There’s something in the water they say.
Someone put it there to make people act this way.
People are dying, people are crying, people are lying.
Left and right the bodies go, dropping dead where they stand.
I am alone and it my house
With many water jugs of full stock.
I’ll never feel the ill effects of which I hear them talk.
People loot and plunder
A crazy sort of force.
This poisoned population seems no blunder,
The town’s well is the source.
I write this now in anticipation
Of the crazy new poisoned nation
This populace poisoned
These psycho people
Their morals asunder
This poison’s clearly now no blunder
There’s something in the water.
There’s something in the water they say.
I am the one who put it there to make them act this way.
There’s something in the water they say.
Someone put it there to make people act this way.
People are dying, people are crying, people are lying.
Left and right the bodies go, dropping dead where they stand.
I am alone and it my house
With many water jugs of full stock.
I’ll never feel the ill effects of which I hear them talk.
People loot and plunder
A crazy sort of force.
This poisoned population seems no blunder,
The town’s well is the source.
I write this now in anticipation
Of the crazy new poisoned nation
This populace poisoned
These psycho people
Their morals asunder
This poison’s clearly now no blunder
There’s something in the water.
There’s something in the water they say.
I am the one who put it there to make them act this way.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
In the Air Tonight
March 19, 2011
Wow. My first journal. Um, not sure what I’m supposed to write. My mother got me this because she says we will be staying inside a lot more. Something about Japan and their plants. I haven’t been keeping up with it. Schoolwork keeps me busy. Math, ugh. You’re pretty cool, mom marked all the pages with dates so I don’t need to do it. Cool!Anyway, I guess I should name you. Tokyo is what I’ll call you, since I got you because of the stuff in Japan!
Mom just came, crying. Apparently the plant exploded, and lots of people were killed. That makes me sad.
March 20, 2011
Hello again, Tokyo. Dad brought home SO MUCH FOOD. I mean, like, whoa. He says we’re stocking up. I don’t know why. We’re in Washington. Japan is so far over the water.Anyway, I heard from the TV in the living room that people are being asked to leave here! Dunno why! It’s so far away. Something about sickness in Japan and wind. Whatever. I’m sleepy.
March 21, 2011
March 22, 2011
So sorry I forgot to write in you yesterday, Tokyo! School and homework made me forget! But I have good news! School is cancelled! YAY! I’m so excited I am going to stay up all night. Sorry if I don’t write in you, mom and dad want to play board games. Apparently they don’t have work either!March 22, 2011
March 23, 2011
Mom told me something weird, Tokyo. Apparently the particles from the explosion managed to travel all the way over here! Wow, I know right? We have to stay inside now and that makes me SAD! It’s so sunny!!!I think I’m just going to go back to sleep. Today’s not worth it if I can never go outside again!
March 24, 2011
More boring times indoors. Bored games, haha. Aren’t I funny, Tokyo? For some reason the TV stopped working. Guess they are staying home too.Not much to say. I thought I saw people outside today. Made me so mad! I want to go out!
March 25, 2011
Tokyo! I’m a bad girl! Haha.I wasn’t supposed to go outside but I snuck out for just a second. I saw people walking around. Why can’t I go out? Huh? I should be allowed to. They look funny though. My parents must just want me to study while school is cancelled.
March 26, 2011
I don’t feel so good. Mom says its my allergies to dust. I told her that I usually spend my time outside, so that now that she’s making me stay in that I am getting sick. She looked sad.Tokyo, why are they making me stay in? I love outside. I think I have a fever, I feel hot.
March 27, 2011
Tokyo, I feel sick. I’ve had allergies, but, my head hot. Feels bad. Hungry. Bread made me throw up. I feel bad. Gonna go to sleep.March 28, 2011
Head hot. Feel bad. Hungry. Food no good. Hurt. Ow. Found can of meat. Meat good.March 29, 2011
HEAD HOT FEEL BAD SKIN BYE MOM TASTY CANT FIND OTHERMarch 30, 2011
TASTY MEAT DAD GOOD I GO OUT FIND MORE BURNING SKIN BAD
Monday, April 11, 2011
Heads Up
Find a penny, pick it up, and all day long you’ll have good luck.
—Children’s saying
Sally was a schoolyard scamp, and superstitious despite her young age. Her mother had inadvertently passed on her notions; most notably the notion that picking up a penny tails-up was bad luck.
That particular notion came about one day when her mother got into a spot of bad luck and blamed a penny.
“You leave that alone, John Michael!” she shouted at a poor kid going to pick up a coin on the ground one stormy recess.
She was a unique character in that she—like her mother—believed that only her ideals were the truth. The only real difference is that her mother had religious ideals and her ‘superstitions’ were little more than excuses that Sally happened to take as truth.
“I told you not to pick it up! Don’t you know what you’re doing?” she yelled as she slapped the penny out of John Michael’s hand.
When it landed, the coin was face-up. Sally saw this and leapt at the chance to prove her point about coins and luck.
She seized the coin and held it up high. “See?” she shouted at the children around her. “It’s like I say. Tails, bad! Heads, good! This was face-up. This is lucky!”
She was promptly struck by a bolt of irony.
—Children’s saying
Sally was a schoolyard scamp, and superstitious despite her young age. Her mother had inadvertently passed on her notions; most notably the notion that picking up a penny tails-up was bad luck.
That particular notion came about one day when her mother got into a spot of bad luck and blamed a penny.
“You leave that alone, John Michael!” she shouted at a poor kid going to pick up a coin on the ground one stormy recess.
She was a unique character in that she—like her mother—believed that only her ideals were the truth. The only real difference is that her mother had religious ideals and her ‘superstitions’ were little more than excuses that Sally happened to take as truth.
“I told you not to pick it up! Don’t you know what you’re doing?” she yelled as she slapped the penny out of John Michael’s hand.
When it landed, the coin was face-up. Sally saw this and leapt at the chance to prove her point about coins and luck.
She seized the coin and held it up high. “See?” she shouted at the children around her. “It’s like I say. Tails, bad! Heads, good! This was face-up. This is lucky!”
She was promptly struck by a bolt of irony.
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