The Farce Awakens
The Floss Awakens
Revenge of the Zits
R2D2--The Big bShort
Jeda Jethro vs Death Star
Gravity Fights Back
The Sparkly Stuff Ain't Stars
Ugly Ctreatures in Tights
Princess Lea Remembers Nothing
Yoda Gives Really Bad Advice
Saturday, January 9, 2016
Not a Clue
What are we doing here? Where are we? How do we get out? One moment we're floating along free; the next we're stuck in this hot cavern and we can't see a damn thing. I can't breathe. I'm claustrophobic. Let's split up and see if we can find an opening.
Will I ever see my family again?
We're going to suffocate. Let's not just accept our fate. Let's go down fighting. All these panicked voices. Who is the enemy here?
Joe sat still as the doctor examined him. Looked up his nose. You have a sinus infection, he said. A good antibiotic and Tylenol should give you relief. But where do the germs come from, Joe asked. Albania, the doctor replied dryly.
I want answers. someone demanded. If there is a God of Germs why is he punishing us in this mushy hellhole with pulsating walls? Who will be our saviors? The words echoed through the cave.
I heard of something called a sneeze, I said. Maybe that will propel us out to freedom.
But do these sneeze things exist?
I haven't a clue. All I have is hope.
Will I ever see my family again?
We're going to suffocate. Let's not just accept our fate. Let's go down fighting. All these panicked voices. Who is the enemy here?
Joe sat still as the doctor examined him. Looked up his nose. You have a sinus infection, he said. A good antibiotic and Tylenol should give you relief. But where do the germs come from, Joe asked. Albania, the doctor replied dryly.
I want answers. someone demanded. If there is a God of Germs why is he punishing us in this mushy hellhole with pulsating walls? Who will be our saviors? The words echoed through the cave.
I heard of something called a sneeze, I said. Maybe that will propel us out to freedom.
But do these sneeze things exist?
I haven't a clue. All I have is hope.
Hidden Aliens
Hidden aliens all over the place. In my writing group. At least six of them. The one next to me clicking away like crazy on her laptop. Across from me, another speaking in gibberish. Mention grilled cheese sandwich and he just stares blankly.
I write something hilarious, they do not laugh. I put out a serious piece, not impressed. They never burp.
Why so many in my group? I put up flyers asking for imaginative people thinking out of the box. Maybe that was it.
The real tip off is none of them smell. All humans have a distinctive smell. These creatures do not. Unnerving, but I am determined to keep their secret. One time I hiccuped and they were alarmed. Thought it was a weapon.
Hmmm. Something smells like Genoa salami. Wait. That's me I ran out of cheese and had to have something for breakfast. Another tip off-they never use the bathroom.
I write something hilarious, they do not laugh. I put out a serious piece, not impressed. They never burp.
Why so many in my group? I put up flyers asking for imaginative people thinking out of the box. Maybe that was it.
The real tip off is none of them smell. All humans have a distinctive smell. These creatures do not. Unnerving, but I am determined to keep their secret. One time I hiccuped and they were alarmed. Thought it was a weapon.
Hmmm. Something smells like Genoa salami. Wait. That's me I ran out of cheese and had to have something for breakfast. Another tip off-they never use the bathroom.
Saturday, January 2, 2016
Living in the Imagination
Bobby spent much of his youth hiding under the bed. His parents thought he would grow out of it. He never did. His wife, Joyce, tried to be understanding. But she needed the car keys to go shopping.
Bobby taught World History at the local high school. Sometimes his mind wandered and he imagined his students as fighter pilots readying for a mission. In the faculty lounge he saw the other teachers as generals debating strategy. At red lights he became a double agent about to be exposed. On the toilet he was a gunner on a fighter plane.
Leaning back in his recliner, he was a mule Skinner driving his team across the prairie.
Now, lying under the bed, he was crawling under barb wire, German bullets strafing the air.
After a couple of hours, he crawled out and saw a note from his wife. She had gone shopping with a neighbor. Heat up a casserole, she said.
He went downstairs and did just that, pretending he was with the police bomb squad and the casserole was the bomb. He couldn't mention that to Joyce. She would be hurt.
Bobby saw the mailman coming up the path. An assassin. He grabbed a rolling pin in one hand and a frying pan in the other.
This scenario could get ugly fast.
Bobby taught World History at the local high school. Sometimes his mind wandered and he imagined his students as fighter pilots readying for a mission. In the faculty lounge he saw the other teachers as generals debating strategy. At red lights he became a double agent about to be exposed. On the toilet he was a gunner on a fighter plane.
Leaning back in his recliner, he was a mule Skinner driving his team across the prairie.
Now, lying under the bed, he was crawling under barb wire, German bullets strafing the air.
After a couple of hours, he crawled out and saw a note from his wife. She had gone shopping with a neighbor. Heat up a casserole, she said.
He went downstairs and did just that, pretending he was with the police bomb squad and the casserole was the bomb. He couldn't mention that to Joyce. She would be hurt.
Bobby saw the mailman coming up the path. An assassin. He grabbed a rolling pin in one hand and a frying pan in the other.
This scenario could get ugly fast.
Machiavelli
Machiavelli paced back and forth in his spacious library. His manipulations and lies had gotten him control of the Church, the military and other politicians. He had tremendous power, which was the goal. But he could not control the artists and poets. Nothing he said could convince them he wasn't full of crap.
He spit out the window in disgust. He even offered them free pizza for life. Fools.
Then he hit upon a perfect solution. Give them their own territory apart from every one else. He would assign it a catchy name--Sicily.He would wait until that pathetic slacker finished painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Why didn't he just appoint those house painters. The job would have been done weeks ago.
Artists. Seriously?
He spit out the window in disgust. He even offered them free pizza for life. Fools.
Then he hit upon a perfect solution. Give them their own territory apart from every one else. He would assign it a catchy name--Sicily.He would wait until that pathetic slacker finished painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Why didn't he just appoint those house painters. The job would have been done weeks ago.
Artists. Seriously?
Dream Exchanger
I put a block on my dreams. I have an app for that. I was having nightmares about being married with six kids and a mortgage. I repaired revolving doors.
One of my friends gave me an address for a Dream Ex changer. I knocked three times and whistled. A tiny old woman opened the door. Please, I begged, I need help. She let me in and for a moderate fee she gave me an old tape recorder. I was to play it at night and it would gently put me to sleep and instill new dreams from someone else.
All I can say is buyer beware. It turns out she sold me Tim Burton's discarded dreams.
Needless to say, I woke up screaming.
One of my friends gave me an address for a Dream Ex changer. I knocked three times and whistled. A tiny old woman opened the door. Please, I begged, I need help. She let me in and for a moderate fee she gave me an old tape recorder. I was to play it at night and it would gently put me to sleep and instill new dreams from someone else.
All I can say is buyer beware. It turns out she sold me Tim Burton's discarded dreams.
Needless to say, I woke up screaming.
Cootie Memories
This place is so familiar. I grew up here with my family. We had good times. Then, gradually, things changed. More open space. Less protection. Sprays and lotions, designed to destroy us. We tried moving lower to the ears, but waxy buildup was an issue.
So we relocated to a host named Greta, with a bushel of hair.
Last week, after years away, we decided to pay a visit to our old haunts, namely Joe. Well, we saw right away we had made the right move by leaving. Miles of bare scalp, wrinkled and mottled.
Cooties have to be objective and unsentimental.
I'm sure Joe reaches up and scratches sometimes and wonders where his old tenants wound up. We left him sleeping peacefully and smiling. He was a good host while it lasted.
So we relocated to a host named Greta, with a bushel of hair.
Last week, after years away, we decided to pay a visit to our old haunts, namely Joe. Well, we saw right away we had made the right move by leaving. Miles of bare scalp, wrinkled and mottled.
Cooties have to be objective and unsentimental.
I'm sure Joe reaches up and scratches sometimes and wonders where his old tenants wound up. We left him sleeping peacefully and smiling. He was a good host while it lasted.
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