The elevator music blasted as the two traveled flight after flight in the metal box. She could
feel the tension as Mike clenched his briefcase firmly.
"Eva," she interrupted.
"Look Eva, I am tired of playing games with you. We just need time apart."
She looked up to the top of the metal shaft as her eyes cupped with water. "Mike, this just isn't
"No, Rita, err... Eva, what isn't right is getting handed a pink slip for playing scrabble in the
break room. I knew I shouldn't have trusted you. You said Dave was out of town."
She thumbed at her collared shirt nervously. "I thought he was."
"I am just tired of your games. You can keep Monopoly, Don't Spill the Beans, and Hungry Hippos
to yourself... I am done."
And with that, the mighty elevator swung open its heavy silver arms exposing the two to the day
air. Rita shyly withdrew her box of chalk and hopscotched to the bus stop... alone.
the Fish Piece
One day while simmering up some fine fish sticks in the woods over a little fire, Dr. Flugerdean noticed something
quite remarkable. One of the fishsticks had a soul. "Flippity!" cried the Doctor. He placed this little fish piece in a
ziplock bag and put the tartar sauce away for respect. "I shall name him Melvin!" Melvin grew to be a fine fish piece.
He made his dad proud. "Dad, look! I am delicious!" Melvin screamed as he bit off a piece of himself. It was a wonder,
each bite the boy took would grow right back. It was actually pretty sweet. One day the family cat ate Melvin, and the Doctor
remembered he was drunk.
and the S.S. Frolicking Zebra
Toast-Munch, a wayward sparkly captain, set out to sail the
coast. It is amazing what peddling off a handful of crackers can get you these days. He was Captain of the "S.S. Frolicking
Zebra." It was named after a beautiful sight the captain had seen in his travels as a boy. He had dreams and aspirations
of being the most threatening pirating ship in the Atlantic. His crew was notoriously known for their stamina and ferocity.
Conditions were fierce, as the rickety vessel brought a few
compromises. The hand soaps in the restroom were not moisturizing or cherry-almond scented, the decorative curtains were
on the tacky side, and the wooden planks were not properly veneered. The crew grew rebellious. They had a secret meeting
on the E Deck and discussed what they should do. "The Captain refuses to issue more dryer sheets and I am getting static,"
said the strong, burly chested Wallace. "I know Wallace," bantered back Spango the toughest crew member of the ship, "He even
threatened to take away room service... something MUST be done. Captain Munch is gonna pay--the soggy bastard!" Meanwhile,
Captain Toast-Munch was playing poker with his pet bird Splickette and munching cigars. He was oblivious to the fury below deck
that was about to unleash itself. A tornado of teeth and nails set in at the poor Captain. He was eaten savagely by his
own crew members--a mutiny if you will. They toasted him and munched him--the redundancy was appalling. The did have the
decency to put him in a decorative casket courtesy of a Ralph Lauren inspired design.
Later that year, the ship sailed into an iceberg much like the one the
Titanic crashed into only it was much larger and filled with ice. "Damn it!" cried Butch, "I just finished painting the crown
molding on the bough!" The S.S. Frolicking Zebra met its dismal fate diving angrily into the sea like a swan... never to
be seen again. THE END.
The aluminum robot was one of a kind. He was imported from like France or somewhere comparably as swank. Here is
the deal... the robot could do sweet dance moves--like one was even named after him right? Well, one day the robot pulled
a johnny five and started getting ruined by his swaggered ways. He was reckless, and all the 80s montage magic in the world
wasn't going to repair him. People were all like, hey aluminum robot, I want to use you to wrap my leftovers. The robot
was like shah. He tried to run but was captured and tortured in a microwave. The robot was all like wtf, you guys will pay.
He and the microwave teamed up and formed into an intimidating shape, like an optimus prime style hulk or something, only
far less green and transforming. The people cried out in fear and lost out because their leftovers were left unwrapped and
never were to be reheated again. Oh yeah, and the robot totally got chrome rims that were way resilient to like rust and
stuff. For real. The end.
Corn and the Sea Monkey
Once upon a time in a bowl far away stood two lost souls…
"Hey man, how did you get here?" inquired
a shiny candy corn of a dried out sea monkey.
"Oh hey, yeah, years ago in this very bowl stood an empire of Sea Monkeys.
We reigned supreme. In a freak spill accident our civilization was destroyed. I was salvaged by my freeze dried capabilities.
The others... well, they did not make it."
"Damn, that sucks Mr. Sea Monkey."
"What about you son? How did you end up in this here bowl?"
"Well, last October,
when I was born, my brothers and I were gathered in a bag. A giant claw ripped open our home and started feeding my brothers
to a gluttonous hole. I was devastated... my family in ruin. I jumped out of the bag to save my life. The claw decided
to have mercy on me and placed me in this bowl here... with you Sir."
The Sea Monkey and the Candy Corn spent many hours together
discussing politics, life, and their mutual enjoyment of old times, good memories, and Led Zeppelin tunes... like "No Quarter"...
man that was a good one.
So, if you ever come across a bowl with a shiny candy corn and an old shriveled brine shrimp, for
real, leave them alone. They have been through a lot. Man, do something nice... like you could cook them a tiny piece of
steak or something. I don't know. But yeah.
A piece of green crap laid upon the shoe of the famous Starburg Hutley as he meandered through the park one afternoon.
"Shananagans!" screamed Mr. Hutley. Why it wasn't crap at all... it was none other than Sherlock the Leaf. Sherlock had
been on a journey from branches afar blowing for hours and distances great. Mr. Hutley's shoe seemed as nice a resting place
as any. "I hate foliage!" cried out Mr. Hutley. The leaf grew spiteful and intense. It assumed its leaf strength and summoned
bees and other horrible things. I think there was like even a goat or something. Mr. Hutley didn't know what hit him, but
I am pretty sure it was a forest. The moral of the story is save a tree. Word.
Once there was
this man, he was about 12 years aged, and his name was Johnny Walker. They called him "Scotch" for short. His grandfather
named him that because the old bastard was a recovering alcoholic. He had since switched to Tang orange flavored powder he
kept in old liquor bottles encouraged by his AA pals. Scotch was brilliant; he spent hours fashioning paper airplanes out
of sandals and scrap metal, scuba diving with the locals, and was quite good at lawn decorations (gnomes and the like). One
day Scotch got a wicked paper cut and died. They cremated him and put him in a Johnny Walker bottle because they were poor,
and it seemed as personalized as it could get. Well, that was cool until Grandpa got thirsty and mixed his grandson with
water and stirred.
Farley and the Evil Jackrabbit
Old Man Farley was a simple kind of guy. He wore buckskin dresses and fierce camouflage pants.
He enjoyed deep-fried okra and gardening. One day in the garden, Old Man Farley noticed some crazy looking carrots. There
were two and they were furry. All the other carrots were gone. He was so confused that he got his japanese sword to investigate.
He decided the two gray carrots looked delicious so he ninja-ed them with his shanking device and then was struck with an
ebb of fear known to few. Two angry red eyes stared blazing at him from the carrot patch. He just splinked off the ears
of the feared Evil Jackrabbit. "Sweet one-eyed whore!" the corpulent old man blasted, "If it ain't old Jack!" Old Man Farley
quicky started running toward the gate. He knew he was in copious amounts of shit. The rabbit was swift and totally did not
appreciate his ears being ginsu-ed off by some dude with poor fashion sense, so he started doing some odd kind of Irish jig
with little green tap shoes on. It was bewitching. All the vegetation bowed down in wonder and awe of such awesome dancing.
The rabbit set in moving closer to the old man. Closer and closer... the Irish music getting louder and louder... the tapping
beating in Old Man Farley's hearing aids until it started pacing his heart in odd Irish rhythms. The green tap shoes, the
evil glowing red eyes, the two long, grey ears on the ground. The man passed out, twice. When he came to, he was startled
by his wife shaking him gently. "Dear, time for supper." Old Man Farley arose in secret hopes he was indeed in the realm
of normalcy. These things happened to him far too often. "Honey, we are having carrot stew tonight since you cut them
all up in the yard. Also honey, you should really lay off the psychedelic herbs back there... for real."
In a passionate land, deep in a field of glory far off somewhere really grand where trumpets of
bronze blasted and kings supped on fine hams and barley juices, there was a kingdom of crickets. They were led by the benevolent
Tango. Tango was by irony the ambigulously gay cricket, but no one questioned the leader. Anyway, Tango shimmied to his
crowds one day for the daily formal address. "Here ye Cricketh of Cricketmania. I would totally like to invite you to the
cricket featht thith evening. It will be delithiouth guyth... I am telling you." He spoke with fervor and elegance as his
left cricket hand-limbs rested upon his hips. " We will have thalmon and fine juiceth in which to bid our endulgentheth upon."
The other crickets were pretty tired from building Tango's new castle adorned with pink bricks, fountains, and bodacious lace.
They also hated salmon. It was Tango's favorite. Ever since he found out how to work the human phone next door, he was always
ordering salmon take-out. It got really old. The other crickets decided enough was enough. They salted Tango and hid him
in a bag of sunflower seeds. Needless to say, no one ate thalmon that night or for any night to come.
*note: This story
was actually inspired by true events. My brother and I were rocking out a bag of sunflower seeds one afternoon when we came
across a salted cricket head in the bag. True story.
the Armless Wonder
"Is it me, or when you open peanut butter jars, does it always
smear across your face like a useless paste?" inquired the youthful Anthony. "Well Anthony, I am afraid you are just pretending
again that you have arms," responded his physical therapist. "Work with me here son. We've already had this talk--you need
to cope with the reality that you created. Other little boys wouldn't have thought to try to stop a snack truck with their
arms. That was your choice my boy." Anthony looked down in shame with his one eye. (That was from another daring accident
in which he stared down a mother bird.) "I just really wanted to stop the truck... I love delicious snack, and I like to
feel like I can do anything, like a super hero," said the young boy. "I wish I could encourage you and tell you to make the
most of life, but lets face it, you're eight and not even smart enough to tie your shoes let alone the fact that you don’t
have the arms to do it anyway. I mean, when you make progress in here, I cant even high five you." With this, the boy grew
engulfed with a secret inner-fury. He ran out of his therapist's office and stopped the next car he could see with his legs
and torso. Needless to say, the car did stop however, Anthony, the one-eyed, armless boy stopped too. The boy was smeared
across the way like a useless paste.
Samuel the ant was mighty and fierce, he worked hard to stack grains and stuff like ants are supposed to. One day
while the ants were savagely attacking a core of apple, Samuel discovered something that resembled a little debbie snack.
He totally went for that, "Screw the apple," he thought. He scampered over only to discover it was actually just a leaf...
a dirty leaf. "What the heck... the sure sucks," thought Samuel. "Man, I could have been chomping on the apple for the past
hour." Then suddenly a brisk wind picked up and whisked Samuel and the leaf off to a far away land, Uncle Dan's backyard.
He and his friend Bobby were doing some awesome jumping jacks when the leaf totally landed in their delicious bowl of chips.
"This is more like it," thought the brave little ant. He began munching furiously upon the frito lay brand potato chip until
his tiny any carcass was filled with potato delight. After the intense jumping jack work out, Uncle Dan and friend Bobby
commenced to some serious potato indulgence. The little ant seemed not to mind as he was too tired to move. Uncle Dan saw
the little guy and freaked out calmly. "Whoa, Bobby... there is a piece of crap ant in our chips." Samuel panicked and screamed
in his little ant voice, "Dude, if you totally set me free, I will grant you three awesome wishes." The ant was a compulsive
liar, and Dan had a short memory span and gracefully ate the chip Samuel was surfing on. "What did you say?" asked Bobby.
"Huh. About what?" responded Dan. The End.
Phillis was a strong woman. She was comparable to lumberjacks or car lifters. She was as gentle
as a dryer sheet and loved her some turkey. There was a problem with this love though... she was a turkey. Cannibalism was
a way of life for Phillis. She never meant any harm... man, but her friends were delicious.
One day while pumping
iron Phillis saw Todd. Todd was the hottest turkey alive. He had really suave feathers and the beadiest eyes that shined like
corn in the sun. Phillis trampled over to Todd.
"Hey beef cake... how would you like to ruffle these loose ol' feathers
in the chicken coop sometime?" Phillis was also forward. What Phillis didn't know is that Todd was under cover working for
Farmer Joe, keeper of all things farm. He was send to scope out any deviant turkeys and put them to rest.
threw a bionic wing in the air and his beady eyes glowed a fierce cranberry-dressing-red. Phillis was used to other being
upset with her, however, this was new. She grew very hungry. Her beak totally went in to chomp off a leg of her new friend.
All she heard was a metal *clank* of her beak on the tin beast. Todd, was actually just made of tin foil, so he pretty much
crumbled. I lied about all the clanking. Phillis ate the foil, and she did not die surprisingly.
When Farmer Joe ate
Phillis that fine Thanksgiving, it was pretty awesome... there was no shortage on foil wrappings for the leftovers. Good work
Phillis... good work.