• I am a writer because I believe in me. Believe in yourself and soon others will too!

  • That Pocket Watch

    Alice watched as the white rabbit bounced through the garden, pausing in the grass. He looked at the watch in his paw.

    “Oh, my!” he exclaimed, “I’m late for a very important date!”

    Tucking the watch back where he had it, the rabbit hopped twice more before a pistol shot rang out. Alice ducked and when she lifted her head, the rabbit lay still on the ground.

    “Good shot, Watson!” shouted the taller man.

    “Why would you shoot such an innocent white rabbit?” Alice cried.

    “Innocent?” replied the shorter man, “Why dear girl, that rabbit stole Mr. Holmes’ pocket watch!”

  • Scorpion Stinger

    In summer of 2002, it was night-time and I was asleep on the ground. I rolled over and got stung below my right eye by an Arizona Bark Scorpion.

    My face swelled up and all that jazz. Once the swelling went away, I was left with a small bump that kind of looked like a pimple, but nothing ever came out of it.

    This morning though, the bump actually looked like it had a head, so I gave it a good squeeze. Much too my surprise, the stinger from that bastard arachnoid came out of the site.

    I’m still grossed out!

  • It’s easier to illegally get into the U.S. than it is to legally get into the Superbowl.

  • Tootsie Pops for Valentine’s Day — how do I love thee, let me count the ways…a one, a two, a three…CRUNCH...three.

  • What Would Charles Bukowski Do?

  • Peer Pressure

    “How much wood could a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood?” came the happy refrain around Woodchuck Hollow. He tried to join in, but the sound left him in agony and with no cure for his self-imposed illness.

    Poor Harold Woodchuck had gone and done something stupid the night before and was paying for it now with a hangover. His head throbbed, his stomach churned and his body trembled as he fought off the need to throw-up.

    And all he could remember of the night before was Cecil Groundhog chanting, “How much wood-grain alcohol can a woodchuck chug?”

  • Hello, I’m Saint Stupid — the Patron Saint of Dumb-asses.

  • The first time my wife and I met eye-to-eye, I lied to her. Told her I was good-looking.

  • I used to have a lot of stress in my life — but then I began calling it ‘excitement.’ I feel better now.