Category: random

Being a trophy-husband is so effing exhausting!

Socialism, instituted peacefully, governs violently. Liberty, won violently, governs peaceably.

She simply ‘popped out’ of nowhere. Henry Wagner was so shocked, he was unable to speak at first.

“You saw that, huh?” she asked.

“Yes,” Henry answered, “And now you’re gonna microwave my brain or something, make me forget?”

“No, that’s only in the movies. We never worry about someone seeing us because people are rarely believed when it comes to stuff like this.”

“That makes sense. So, how’d you do that?”

“I’m a time traveler.”

“Ah.”

“Mined telling me what year this is? Sometimes we get it wrong.”

“Sure, twenty-twenty,” Henry answered.

“Perfect,” she replied, “First Year of Quarantine.”

When Jackson was a kid, he was going to save the world. He did know how, he didn’t know when, he jus’ knew that it was his destiny.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t, didn’t save the world. Worse yet, he couldn’t even save himself.

Jackson died yesterday, next to a dumpster in an unnamed ally, of old age and malnutrition. Authorities picked his body up and took it to the county morgue, where it remains unclaimed and unnamed.

He’ll be buried in a pauper’s grave in three months, only grave diggers in attendance. Only God will ever know his name and the hero he had been in his heart.

But, no one was saved.

dead birds on the street
blue whale beaches himself
we are quarantined

“I don’t wanna wear a mask when I go out,” he said.

“But you have to do it to protect other peoples lives,” she retorted.

“You mean like how you aborted your baby last year?” he asked.

“Hey, my body, my choice,” she screamed.

“Exactly!” he snorted.

Really wanna feel invisible — write what you believe to be a good story and post it everywhere — then sit back and watch your work being randomly ignored. It’s really that simple.

Wanna hear a COVID-19 joke? You probably won’t get it.

It was 1979, early spring, and San Antonio, Texas was already dry, hot and dusty. I was 18-years-old, sweaty and on my own for the first time in my short life and the furthest I’d ever been from home after having joined the US Air Force.

Somehow I’d managed to wrangle a weekend pass and was spending as much time acting like an alcoholic on a binge, a nattily dressed civilian and a confused tourist in the River Walk District of town. Drinking and sight seeing lead me to the Alamo,where I spent more than a few hours regarding it’s hallowed ground with reverence.

It was here that I encounter a strange life-event, one that I still find hard pressed to tell properly, let alone fully explain. I was looking at the hand-carved stone archway over the front entrance, when a much, much older, short, heavy-set Mexican woman walked up and stepped in front of me.

Facing me, and before I could say anything, she took my right hand in her left and pressed a wood-bead rosary and crucifix hard into the fleshiness of my palm and said in her heavy accent, “All the hard days are coming.”

“What? I don’t understand,” I said, trying to pull my hand away.

“You will,” she returned, “Not right now, not for a very long time, but you will understand and you will know when.”

She quickly turned and walked away beyond the far corner of the old mission building that was the Alamo, leaving me holding that rosary and wondering what she’d meant. And for years, I’ve wondered and am still wondering at her words.

“All the hard days are coming,” she’d said.

Until this friggin’ quarantine is over, I’m only telling inside jokes.