Saturday, March 28, 2015

Dragon Misfire

In my practice as a dragon consultant I come across a wide range of issues. Inability to reach high altitude or speeds. Honking instead of roaring. Skin flaking off. Allergies.
But the main problem is inability to maintain high level fire breathing.
They initially emit one long stream of flame, which quickly dissipates into smoke and ashes. Female dragons turn away in disgust. Premature ignition is treatable, however.
I try to get them to relax and imagine continuous molten nostril flames. Sometimes I prescribe supplements. If I determine the nostril opening is too constricted, I send them to a specialist.
The quest for optimums strength and endurance in dragon performance is a developing field. Without the threat of incinerating anything and everything, how do dragons fit in our society?

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Hand Towel King

I checked my linen closet and realized I needed hand towels. Ihad accumulated 42 bed, Bath and Beyond coupons, none of which ever expire. So I took a $5 off $15 purchase one with me.
I wandered around the store for a few minutes before finding a table in the back with severely discounted hand towels. This is a talent I have always had. Call it instinct, genes, whatever. There were no other customers around.
I grabbed a pack of four for $9.99 and added another for $5.99, a total of $15.98. At the register I was told the $5.99 towel was on sale for $3.99, which left me a buck short for the coupon. Did I panic? Flush? Stomp my foot? No. I calmly went to the candy section and took a Reeses Buttercup for $1.09, which put me back over the $15 mark.
So I got five top of the line hand towels and a pack of  Reeses for a bit over $10. Believe me, if I could teach you this gift to make your life a bit easier, I would. But there are some things you just cannot teach.

Saturday, March 21, 2015

The Happiness Bully

Ted was a serious person. He glowered and walked with his head down thinking serious thoughts. This was, after all, a serious world.
The happiness concept eluded him. He was content to be content. He valued gravitas, the weight of his contemplations. He had no time for jocularity.
Until Maria entered his life.
In the park, deep in thought, he never noticed her cavorting in the grass, twirling, arms outstretched, head tilted back.
One day she began singing in a beautiful, glorious voice. "The hills are alive with the sound of music. With songs they have sung for a thousand years."
Ted looked around. There were no hills anywhere.
Maria pranced over to him and dragged him onto the grassy  area, singing all the while.
Before he realized it, he was spinning, dancing and singing along. At one point he tried to smile, but it hurt his cheeks.
Suddenly he pulled away from her in dismay. I cannot do this, he protested. It is destroying my train of thought.
No thoughts, just feeling, Maria responded. She had a strong grip and wrestled him to the ground where she pinned him until he surrendered. There they lay, staring up at a perfect blue sky, singing from their hearts, ebullience in the air.
Until a park ranger came and chased them off the grass.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

New Modells

A new Modells just opened. I missed the first day offer of a gift card for the first 100 shoppers. I forgot about it and overslept. But I didn't hang my head. I went in the afternoon and got sneakers 35% off, including my senior discount. That's right. Modells has a 10% senior discount only a few of us know about. Tomorrow morning I will be there bright and early with my hand out. Free gift cards are gold. Plus I'm in their MVP rewards program and only need 148 more points to get a $20 certificate.
I will find something to buy, believe it.
Where is this new opening? Like I'm really going to tell you. I'll be home before the snow hits. That's the way the world works.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Aliens and Runway Models

Kathy, the only high fashion runway model left after the aliens attacked, scurried along back streets, hunched over, trying not to look so tall. Evidently there was a shortage of models on the invaders planet. None of these warriors was over three feet tall.
She hugged Gerald, her teddy, which served as a comfort, especially when she modeled for Karl Lagerfeld, who resembled a demon. All of the model apartment houses were destroyed. The rest of the poulace was left alone and didn't seem alarmed at the disappearance of these models. They went about their business, waiting for buses, going to school, shopping, etc.
Suddenly a door flew open in a dark alley. An elderly man stuck out his head and whispered, Come inside, you'll be safe here.
My name is Joe and I'm a writer who appreciates high fashion runway models.  She hesitated and that was her mistake. A high powered beam fired from the sky rendered her frozen. Kathy was about to find a new home among tiny creatures who worshiped those over six feet who weighed less than 105 pounds.

The Contract

Morris ignored the revelers around him and drowned his sorrows in drink. He didn't remember what bar he'd stopped at, nor did he care if it was St. Patrick's Day. His novel had been rejected by 22 agents. He was a failure.
Someone tapped his shoulder. An old drunk. Morris gave him a five dollar bill and mumbled leave me alone. The man returned the money.
I have a proposition, he slurred. I don't go that way, Morris said. The man shook his head. Come, let's sit at a booth and I'll explain. They had barely settled in when the man pushed a sheaf of pappers toward him.
It's a contract, he said. Give it a read. The print is too small, Morris responded. The man sighed and burped. In a nutshell, you give me your soul, you get your book published.
Morris laughed cynically. Satan as a drunk. I don't think so.
I am not Satan. I'm his emissary and I'm 14 souls short of my quota. Sign the contract, please.
Morris thought a moment. Will I get foreign sales and movie rights from the book.
Yes, of course.
Will Ryan Gosling play me?
Well, we already own his soul. How do you think he got this far? Yes.
Morris signed. The man threw up on his shoe.
My bad. I'll throw in a new pair. By the way. You need to get rid of some of those adverbs. Satan has standards too.

My Life as a Rockette

My whole body ached from last night's performance. In fifteen minutes I'd have to do it all over again.
I could barely don my black mesh stockings. I was the idiot who sued Radio City music Hall for discrimination in their hiring practices. I won. Now the whole process was completely open--gender, age, height, weight made no difference.
So here I am, a 46 year old man trying to fit into heels way too small. I get no sympathy from my peers. Ann tells me to stop whining and grow a pair. Ellen hugged me for allowing her to audition. Ellen is 4 feet eleven. I hate Sylvia and Francine, whose legs go on forever.
I stood unsteadily. George limped past. His hamstring had pulled again. Four kicks and he's useless. At least I'm sucking it up. Where's the Vaseline for my teeth so I can keep smiling?