Monday, January 29, 2007

 

Don't. Just don't.

by Fred 9:08 PM

Saturday, January 27, 2007

 

The ducks have eaten me again

by Anonymous 11:36 AM

 

(the oceans are... different)

"Look at that," Glorvon said. "The oceans are different. Don't they seem a little bigger than they were last week?"
"It matters not," replied Flaxitron, tweaking knobs on the control panel of their surveillance pod.
"We shall enslave the humans, deeper oceans or not."
"Still, though," Glorvon said, "it seems a little odd, don't you think?"
"You bore me with your incessant observations, Glorvon."
"Well, excuse me for being born, Mister Serious. I was just making small talk."
"Ours is not the making of talk that is small. The purpose of our mission is to gather information on the inferior human race, that we might better infiltrate and destroy them from within."
"You know, I've been thinking about that. Maybe we could make friends with them instead."
"Friends?"
"Sure. It seems like we could conquer them more effectively by gaining their trust. We've got the podcam up and running."
"Podcam?"
"Yeah, you know, the one my Dad got me for my 347th Synthesis Day. We could make a video for youtube or something."
"A most excellent idea, Glorvon," said Flaxitron. "Look into your podcam now, young Glorvon. You shall begin taping at my command."
"Really? Wow, this is going to be great!"
Glorvon turned towards the podcam, mounted on the dashboard of their control panel. As soon as he did, Flaxitron took out his death ray and vaporized Glorvon's tentacled head.
"Fraternization with the enemy shall not be tolerated," Flaxitron grunted.

by Anonymous 11:24 AM

Friday, January 26, 2007

 

"The oceans are...different."

by Fred 9:32 AM

Thursday, January 25, 2007

 

I want to go home.

by Fred 2:58 PM

Friday, January 19, 2007

 

(if anybody asks)

Tell them I'm sick. Because I am sick. The stories are eating away and fighting inside of me again. I can't sleep. I can't talk to anyone. It takes all my energy to put on another pot of coffee and take a shower. The stories won't leave me be. There's the one about the privileged white kid who falls in love with the beautiful woman from Nigeria. They get close but she keeps telling him she isn't ready for sex. Finally it comes out that her family had her circumcised. Half her clitoris is gone and sex is nothing but torture for her. She cries because she thinks her man is going to leave. Instead he tells her how much he loves her, and they'll never be apart. See? This is the kind of story I'm talking about. Then there's one based on a dream I had when I was six. My family has a pet rat. He grew too big for the house and we put him in the sewer. Every Friday we go visit Ratty, feeding him table scraps through the sewer grate. Then one day a sinister man tells my father he's behind on sewer rent. Ratty gets evicted and we never see him again. Are you with me? Heartbreaking, yet ridiculous. I bet I've got a million of them. I can't get them all down. I spend most of my time trying not to suffocate on them. This is what I'm faced with every day. So if anybody asks, tell them I'm bedridden. Tell them I've left town. Tell them the mob finally got me. Tell them I found out I'm just a cartoon character. Tell them anything, but don't let them know I've shut myself away trying to unload all these stories before the hernia cracks my spine in two.

by Anonymous 7:42 PM

 

if anybody asks

by Fred 6:20 PM

Thursday, January 18, 2007

 

(sometimes no matter how hard you try)

You still get run over by a log truck every day. Things come apart. You stand in line. You fill out all the forms and pay your taxes. You teach your kids the value of a buck. You rotate your tires and keep your bearings lubricated. You even cover your hand tools with a sheen of vacuum pump oil. You do all that, and you do it every day for your whole life, and what happens? You get audited. Your kid gets hooked on angel dust. Your tires blow out and the circus leaves town for good. It happened to me one time. I had gotten the lead in a play. It was my big break. I was going to be famous. Then came the day of the big premiere, and I got wet. Some joker dropped a water balloon on me. You know what happens when I get wet? I turn into a car, just like on that old TV show. So, I drove myself to the theater, but of course I couldn't get through the door. Jesus H. Christ on a corn dog stick. I'd be better off playing the lottery. Want some gum?

by Anonymous 10:07 PM

 

Sometimes, no matter how hard you try...

by Fred 5:27 PM

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

 

when perfect is not good enough

by Anonymous 5:16 AM

Friday, January 12, 2007

 

(don't quit yet)

My fingers turned yellow and so did my teeth.
Don't quit yet the girl said.
I ran out of money.
Don't quit yet girl.
I lost my breath and labored up stairs.
Don't quit yet.
I started a fire. I stained my new couch.
Don't quit girl.
My friends and family shook their heads.
Don't quit.
But I can't even meet their eyes I told her.
Don't quit yet.
But I'm beautiful. I'm a Princess. I should never be unhappy. I should love myself, not you.
Don't quit yet the girl said.
I can't even do yoga or ride my bike. Everything's dark even my eyes now.
Don't quit yet.
That's all she ever said.
Don't.
Fuck you. Stop saying that. Go and die. Leave me be.
I quit. She's still here. I'm not friends with her though.

by Anonymous 6:12 PM

 

don't quit yet

by Fred 12:48 PM

Thursday, January 11, 2007

 

The machine that would not burn

by Anonymous 5:18 AM

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

 

freeze-dried android

by Fred 12:00 PM

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

 

At first he thought she'd understand.

by Fred 12:00 PM

Monday, January 08, 2007

 

The Most Outrageous Opening Line

by Anonymous 5:29 AM

 

(when they accepted her application)


She very nearly flooded her underpants with delight. She screamed and jumped up and down on the rickety wooden deck attached to her apartment building.
"What's up girl?" her friend Gloria shouted from below. "You win the lottery or something?"
"No!" she shouted back. "The Starbucks coffee company just bought the rights to my name for $250,000!"
"That's great!" Gloria replied. "Now you can get that boob job and go back to modeling school. Oh, Wendy, I'm so proud of you."
As if on cue, a massive figure appeared in the blue sky. It was the mermaid from the Starbucks logo. She wasn't smiling and inviting customers to enjoy delicious coffee. She was shooting bolts of lightning from her mouth.
"YOUR NAME IS STARBUCKS VENTI LATTE! NOT WENDY!" the mermaid proclaimed in a voice that shook the cars in the parking lot.

by Anonymous 5:20 AM

Sunday, January 07, 2007

 

When they accepted her application

by Fred 10:02 PM

Saturday, January 06, 2007

 

This was the defining moment.

by Fred 10:01 PM

Friday, January 05, 2007

 

I walked alone through oceans of broken sand and skeletal trees. The swamp reflected centuries of forbidden currency. It echoed through my head and shattered the memories I once had of you. We were younger then, and beautiful. Our skin was radiant and we feared nothing. We could not have known that our trek to the jungle would be the knife that sliced our shared arteries. We could not have foretold the future, and even if we could we would have ignored all the evidence. We were brazen and our heads were hard as petrified rifles. We took orders from nobody. Then we woke up and saw that we had gotten older. Our frozen moments had become glaciers and were moving so slowly as to be negligible. We took the train and you got off at your stop, leaving me to ponder my existence and fend for myself amongst the wild beasts lurking in the wilderness. Today I ate my Frosted Flakes and wept, for Tony the Tiger brought back our shared past. "They're great!" you always used to tell me. And I believed you. No matter what happened, how many of our friends fell and never got up again, I was sure there would be a prize at the bottom of the box. But there are no prizes here, only tigers, darkness, and solitary bones.

by Anonymous 11:15 PM

 

finish with tigers

by Fred 8:38 PM

Thursday, January 04, 2007

 

"Look," said Julia. "Already your skin is flaking off and your eyes have turned the color of copper. I told you this was a bad idea."
"No it's not," Raymond answered. "I am going to set a World's Record for Most Vinyl Records Eaten In One Sitting. I can do it with you or without you."
"You can't do anything without me. You can't even move. You polished off our last Rachmaninoff LP."
"Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack. I am not enabling you, Ray. I am not going to the thrift store to pick up another load of Peter, Paul and Mary, Charley Pride, Neil Sedaka and Steve Jones post Sex Pistols records."
"Please, baby," Ray pleaded. He threw up, an unnatural and sickening mass of grayish vomit. "Think about the future. Think about our children."
"Children? We'll never have children. You'll probably go impotent if you don't die first. And I think your skin is never going back to its natural color."
"Julia! I need this. We both need this."
"No, we don't. I'm leaving. I can't stand to see you poison yourself. I'm sorry, Ray, but it's not as if I didn't warn you."
He was too weak to plead with her. He heard her footsteps on the carpet, the door opening, then slamming. His stomach heaved and churned. Black blood poured from his nose. He needed to clear his head with some good mood music.
"Damn, it's too bad I ate my last David Bromberg record," Ray thought idly as the darkness closed in, letting him know he was blind now.

by Anonymous 9:27 PM

 

It's not as if I didn't warn you

by Fred 7:50 PM

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

 

If I have learned anything

by Fred 2:09 PM

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

 

If I remember this correctly

by Fred 2:40 PM

Monday, January 01, 2007

 

If I could have just one thing

by Fred 7:53 PM