Kim Jong Un is married. So I guess I bought these glass slippers for nothing.
Beneath a sheet of ice in Antartica, scientists discovered a canyonline abyss of nothingness. So THAT's where Bachmann's soul went.
Last week Kristen Stewart made a huge mistake fooling around with someone she met on the set of Snow White who wasn't Thor.
Mitt Romney criticized Britian's ability to be a good host. He's just ornery that he forgot a plug adapter to charge his heart.
The Romney camp criticized President Obama for showign weakness against the Soviet Union, and also not owning a time machine.
An Arizona GOP canidate was voting absentee in his dead wife's name. He withdrew because he thought the right wing wouldn't support a medium candidate.
Scotland annoucned that it will legalize gay marriage. In response every gay man leapt up and yelled, "No bagpipes at the ceremony!"
New Jersey governer Chris Christie is thinking of running for president in 2016. The public is thinking about him running too. That thought being, "No."
A man in NYC fell forty feet at a Nickleback concert. Authorities responded in shock, "You sure he didn't jump?"
A disgusting bloated rat monster was found washed up on the shore of Manhattan. Or as Rick Santorum said, "Dad?"
Dick Cheney said McCain made a mistake with his pick for Vice President. George Bush turned to the illuminati and asked, "You get to pick the vice president?"
A new poll indicates that many Americans consider Mitt Romney to be honest. Sure, I guess he's not lying about being an asshole.
Mila Kunis is now dating Ashton Kutcher, or as he will henceforth be known: "Still not Natalie Portman, sigh"
In Pennsylvania a bear was found roaming a Sears. When apprehended the bear explained, "this porridge is too white."
Hugo Chavez called Mitt Romney callously selfish and capitalist elite. Anne grabbed Mitt's arms. "Stop clapping. That's not an endorsement."
George Bush declined his invitation to the GOP national convention. Great. Now what are they gonna do with all that pig's blood?
The Japanese Space Agency sent an aquarium of fish up into space. Americans responded, "What a pretty toilet!"
The Japanese Space Agency sent an aquarium of fish up into space. And if THEY can't destroy the deathstar, I don't know what we'll do.
For the first time, a group of fish were sent into space. That's crazy. They'll never find Nemo there!
A prominent US skeptic of of climate change, Richard Muller, changed his mind and said that he now believes greenhouse gases are responsible for global warming. Said the planet, "Gee, I feel so much safer now."
A study confirmed that humans created global warming. Yay, I can add "creative" to my OKcupid profile!
Research shows that eating curry regularly curbs diabetes risk. Which is great news unless you're a pirate who loves curry but gets teased for being the only one without a peg leg.
Eating curry curbs diabetes risk. Sorry, curry loving pirates, guess you'll have to get that peg leg another way.
Scientists have developed a new robot who can jump on water or at least that's what we tell electrical devices when we want to make it look like a "suicide."
Nintendo lost $220 million. But have they checked the couch?
Snoopy’s street fair passed 5 million downloads. Everyone was so happy they celebrated.
(Stand up and do the snoopy dance.)
Monday, July 30, 2012
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
pocket dial
I sat, staring at the computer, vaguely perusing the news but not really reading it, and listening to the waterfall sound of my ambition and education cascading out of my ears. My boss walked by and I minimized the news. She crossed her arms and made a high pitched sound close to a rabbit's dream dying. Then she went back into her office.
The telephone rang and I answered it flatly. The words fell out of the receiver into my brain matter. "I'm trying to reach Attorney John Staton, but he's not answering," the caller said almost in an accusatory tone.
I stared at the screen, fiddling idly with my cursor. "...Want me to transfer you to his voicemail then?"
"No, he's not answering."
"Oh."
The flickering fluorescent lights bounced off the rotten eggshell colored walls, winking at my apathy, grinning at my displeasure. A clock ticked as I grew seconds and minutes older and the whir of the elevators washed away any natural sounds of happiness.
This monotony continued for several dead moments. I browsed the craigslist classifieds for a new job but nothing seemed exciting. When you first get depressed, you want to rid your life of the misery. But after a few months, there's a point in depression where you don't want to do anything at all. Does change involve any effort whatsoever? I just want to turn into a caterpillar. Is that cool?
The phone rang again and I answered it. "Good afternoon, name of job, how may I help you?" After a second the caller didn't say anything. I could hear rustling noises and a far away sounding voice. I rolled my eyes. It was a pocket dial. I was about to hang up, but then I heard a bird whistle somewhere in the background. I ground the receiver tighter against my ear and continued to listen. There was a jingle of change and a loud flap of fabric and even occasionally a beep. I found myself riveted to the pocket dial, unable to hang up on this mistake. It was obviously a cellphone, stuck inside someone's pocket, calling out to me for some reason, invitingly.
I poised the maroon office phone directly in front of my face and squinted at the receiver.
"Hello?" I called out. My voice echoed inside some stranger's pocket.
Headfirst, I crammed my head into the receiver of the phone, and then squeezed my shoulders together to get my arms in. Once my shoulders were clear I sorta dove into the phone, thrusting hard to get my hips through and escaped from my office into the unknown.
Inside the phone there was a curving tunnel just tall enough for me to stand and barely wide enough. I walked through the gloomy telephone cavern. A bat flew past my head and I ducked. I kept my arms and hands in front of me in a futile attempt to protect and guide myself in the poor low light. As I walked, I could feel the floors rumbling beneath me.
The tunnel reached an end, concluding in a jagged cliff overlooking a dark cave. I looked below and saw only darkness. I jumped from the ledge of the tunnel and fell into the soft fabric of the pocket.
The floors stopped their stupid rumbling and everything halted and remained still as I fell into the abyss.
My weight must have added some pressure when I landed. A hand reached into the pocket, felt around for a second, and then grabbed me by the back of my shirt and pulled me out. The daylight was glaringly bright after the dark tunnel. I wondered how long I had been in the darkness.
Outside I could hear birds chirping, cars honking, and women laughing in the distance. I could smell a mixture of soap, Indian food, and trees. With my dayjob I didn't get outdoors a lot in the daytime during the week. This felt like a special field trip except I wasn't going to let any jerks draw pictures of boobs on two sticky notes and subtly stick them to my back.
When my eyes finally adjusted I was looking into the eyes of a young man about my age. He was holding me up by my shirt with two fingers because I was pocket sized. His brows were raised over his glasses and his brown eyes looked at me with gentle curiosity and sparkle.
"Hello!" I chirped up at him, my voice an indiscernable squeak. As I laid claim to existence, I began to grow back towards my normal size. Within seconds I was too heavy for the pocket bearer to hold up with two pinched fingers and he dropped me. I grew back to my normal height, stood up, dusted off my skirt, and thanked whatever spiritual karmic bullshit had allowed my clothing to conformingly change sizes along with me.
"H-h-hey," the gentleman said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Were you just in my pocket?"
"Yes. It was nice. You must have good cleaning habits."
"Oh, thank you."
My weight must have added some pressure when I landed. A hand reached into the pocket, felt around for a second, and then grabbed me by the back of my shirt and pulled me out. The daylight was glaringly bright after the dark tunnel. I wondered how long I had been in the darkness.
Outside I could hear birds chirping, cars honking, and women laughing in the distance. I could smell a mixture of soap, Indian food, and trees. With my dayjob I didn't get outdoors a lot in the daytime during the week. This felt like a special field trip except I wasn't going to let any jerks draw pictures of boobs on two sticky notes and subtly stick them to my back.
When my eyes finally adjusted I was looking into the eyes of a young man about my age. He was holding me up by my shirt with two fingers because I was pocket sized. His brows were raised over his glasses and his brown eyes looked at me with gentle curiosity and sparkle.
"Hello!" I chirped up at him, my voice an indiscernable squeak. As I laid claim to existence, I began to grow back towards my normal size. Within seconds I was too heavy for the pocket bearer to hold up with two pinched fingers and he dropped me. I grew back to my normal height, stood up, dusted off my skirt, and thanked whatever spiritual karmic bullshit had allowed my clothing to conformingly change sizes along with me.
"H-h-hey," the gentleman said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Were you just in my pocket?"
"Yes. It was nice. You must have good cleaning habits."
"Oh, thank you."
"No, thank YOU."
He looked at me for a second, clearly unclear of my backstory, and he wasn't the only one. I chuckled at nothing and shifted my weight from foot to foot. The pocket dialer man shrugged and jammed his hands in his pockets. We both looked into each other's eyes at the same time and then immediately redirected our gaze to our feet.
"So, I guess I should get going," he said.
"Oh... okay," I replied.
"Unless you, um, wanted to..."
"Well, sure, I probably have no reason to go back to work at this point."
"Yeah."
He gestured in a direction and I nodded and ventured onward.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Attempts at Monologue jokes
Michelle and Barack Obama were uncomfortable kissing on camera. But it got awkward when Romney showed up and yelled, "I'll do it!" and then called some kissers in China.
Reportedly 54% of Florida Voters think Obama is going down the wrong path. "And we know how perceptive and reliable Florida voters are," said Al Gore.
Romney said Obama isn't doing enough to help the middle class. It got weird though when Mitt added, "But despite that, he does have flaws."
Romney campaign representative Sohn Sununu called President Obama a pot smoking, un-American Hawaiian, or in other words, fun.
Sarah Palin says she hasn't been invited to the Republican National Convention yet. The Republican National Convention responded, "yet?"
Romney said he doesn't want the public to see his tax returns. The public grimaced, "Mitt, you have got to stop thinking of your tax returns as porn."
Jennifer Lopez quit American Idol because Steven Tyler did. I guess she figured she'd miss him. And she don't wanna miss a thing.
Katie Holmes' car was hit by a garbage truck. It was a regular truck filled with her ex's spiritual beliefs.
Mitt Romney said President Obama needs to learn how to handle his business. In response, Obama asked if Fred Willard gave lessons.
A Burger King employee was fired after being caught with their feet in the lettuce bins. That's so gross. I do not need to know how BK grows their employees.
According to a new study, too much tv can prevent kids from becoming athletic, which makes sense... It's really unhealthy to eat television.
Reportedly, the ipad mini is real. Because I guess enough of the ipad lost boys clapped.
At San Diego Comic-Con Marvel revealed the new Iron Man armor. But I didn't look. I don't want bad luck before the wedding!
Apple announced the imminent creation of a small mini ipad. That's surprising. I didn’t even know Ann Romney was pregnant.
Reportedly 54% of Florida Voters think Obama is going down the wrong path. "And we know how perceptive and reliable Florida voters are," said Al Gore.
Romney said Obama isn't doing enough to help the middle class. It got weird though when Mitt added, "But despite that, he does have flaws."
Romney campaign representative Sohn Sununu called President Obama a pot smoking, un-American Hawaiian, or in other words, fun.
Sarah Palin says she hasn't been invited to the Republican National Convention yet. The Republican National Convention responded, "yet?"
Romney said he doesn't want the public to see his tax returns. The public grimaced, "Mitt, you have got to stop thinking of your tax returns as porn."
Jennifer Lopez quit American Idol because Steven Tyler did. I guess she figured she'd miss him. And she don't wanna miss a thing.
Katie Holmes' car was hit by a garbage truck. It was a regular truck filled with her ex's spiritual beliefs.
Mitt Romney said President Obama needs to learn how to handle his business. In response, Obama asked if Fred Willard gave lessons.
A Burger King employee was fired after being caught with their feet in the lettuce bins. That's so gross. I do not need to know how BK grows their employees.
According to a new study, too much tv can prevent kids from becoming athletic, which makes sense... It's really unhealthy to eat television.
Reportedly, the ipad mini is real. Because I guess enough of the ipad lost boys clapped.
At San Diego Comic-Con Marvel revealed the new Iron Man armor. But I didn't look. I don't want bad luck before the wedding!
Apple announced the imminent creation of a small mini ipad. That's surprising. I didn’t even know Ann Romney was pregnant.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
MSN Messenger Chat with 15 Year Old Me
Due to a rift in the space time continuum, I was able to log on through the internet to reach out ten years into the past to talk to myself as a teenager and attempt to give myself some advice and encouragement during the sulky high school years.
25 year old me: Hey, younger self,
Charmedfan224: Hey dude! Wassup?!
25 year old me: We don’t have a lot of time before the space time continuum returns to normal, so I gotta make this quick. I just wanted to say, hang in there. I know high school can be isolating and anxiety inducing, but it doesn’t feel that way forever, little Barbara.
Charmedfan224: I’m not little. I’m hella fat.
25 year old me: No, no you are not. And when you get to be older, you’ll wish that you appreciated that body while you had it, instead of constantly hating it.
Charmedfan224: Eww, gross, so you’re like fat!!
25 year old me: No. So, okay, what I’m trying to say is, I know you’re super depressed and all, but it’s going to work out okay. Everything that gave you panic attacks in high school won’t even matter to you as an adult.
Charmedfan224: You don’t get panic attacks anymore?
25 year old me: Um. Well.
Charmedfan224: Yesterday, I had a panic attack in marching band practice, and I peed my pants, and I was sitting next to Steve, but I just told him I spilled soda so totally tricked him! Yay!
25 year old me: Smart thinking.
Charmedfan224: So, what’s Steve like as an old man?
25 year old me: I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since high school.
Charmedfan224: STEVE AND I BREAK UP?!? WHAT DID YOU DO?
25 year old me: Me? I… I didn’t do anything.
Charmedfan224: You need to tell me exactly specifically why he broke up with you so I can prevent it from happening!! Did I not touch up my black nail polish often enough? Were my combat boots not as clumpy as the other girls? Were the pink streaks in my hair too “cute pink” and not “punk pink” enough?
25 year old me: I don’t even remember.
Charmedfan224: How could you not remember losing the love of your life?!?! Are you like totally stupid or something?
25 year old me: Listen, little Barbara, you’re gonna fall in love so many times and get your heart broken a lot, and it’ll hurt a hell of a lot but afterwards Mom will take us out for shopping and ice cream.
Charmedfan224: Haha! You still hang out with Mom! That’s so embarrassing! Tell me at the very least you don’t let her walk next to you!
25 year old me: ….
Charmedfan224: Gross! You’re like a little baby! I bet everyone thinks you’re a little baby! Hahaha!
25 year old me: My therapist says I’m emotionally mature enough for my age. Never mind. I just… I just wanted to tell you that it all turns out okay.
Charmedfan224: Does it? Does Morrissey get our letter and get The Smiths back together?
25 year old me: No. I don’t know. I don’t really keep up with music trivia news so much anymore.
Charmedfan224: Oh, does your boyfriend not care about music?
25 year old me: I don’t have a boyfriend.
Charmedfan224: Why?
25 year old me: I’m just taking some time and working on me right now.
Charmedfan224: What does that mean?
25 year old me: I don’t know anymore.
Charmedfan224: Okay, so I have a chat room date with the girls from the Dawson’s Creek fan club in an hour, so if I want to have enough time to call Rebecca I better log off now. I just want to tell you… good luck with everything. I’m sorry your life sucks so much. Maybe there’s like a band camp for adults? Best of luck to you, old Barbara!
My favorite monologue jokes compiled
1. " Yesterday, House Republicans held their 33rd vote to repeal Obama’s healthcare law. It was mostly a symbolic vote that accomplished nothing — or as Congress calls that, a vote" -Fallon
2. "The White House is telling Americans not to “read too much” into Friday’s bad jobs report. Or as Americans put it, “You had me at ‘don’t read too much.’” -Fallon
3. "Condoleezza Rice made a surprise trip to Iraq on Sunday. Also surprised to be in Iraq on Sunday: thousands of U.S. troops who were supposed to be home by Christmas." -Amy Poehler (Weekend Update)
4. "Last night on the premiere of a new reality show, Bristol Palin confronted a man in a bar and demanded to know why he hates her mother. In response, John McCain said "Leave me alone, I'm having a drink."" -Conan
5. " Today President Obama gave a major speech where he defended his handling of the economy. And there were tons of people in the audience, you know, since nobody had to be at work." -Fallon
6. " Over the weekend President Obama issued an order that allows some illegal immigrants to stay in the country. Or as Fox News reported it, "Obama issues order allowing himself to stay in the country."" -Conan
7. " The theory behind the Freudian slip has been scientifically proven after 111 years. I think that's the breast news I heard all week." -Conan
8. "Citing the high cost of the series and its low ratings, syndicator Pearson Television has canceled the long-running series Baywatch. That leaves men who like big, fake boobs to watch VIP, Jerry Springer, Jenny Jones, Search Party, Extra, MTV Spring Break, MTV's Making The Video, Wild On E!, Howard Stern, Silk Stockings, G-String Divas, The Man Show, Unhappily Ever After, Blind Date, Bowflex Infomercials, Cleopatra 2525, the XFL, the NFL, Sabado Gigante, Temptation Island, Charmed, wrestling, Cinemax, Showtime, or commercials" - Tina Fey (Weekend Update)
10. ''Today, possible presidential candidate Donald Trump released his birth certificate. It lists his eyes as blue and his hair as ridiculous.'' —Conan O'Brien
11. “Huntington Beach, California this past weekend was the site of the second annual Surf City Surf Dog competition. Or as the sharks call it… Thanksgiving.” Seth Meyers (Weekend Update)
12. “It was announced Wednesday that the new judges for this season’s American Idol will be Jennifer Lopez, Steven Tyler and Randy Jackson. Otherwise known as ‘coffin nails one, two and three.’” Amy Poehler (Weekend Update)
13. “Blockbuster Video on Thursday filed for bankruptcy protection. Well Blockbuster, seems our 8 year tug of war over Tango & Cash has reached its conclusion.” Seth Meyers (Weekend Update)
14. "In the wake of President Obama's decision to not release pictures of Osama Bin Laden's body, a number of new conspiracy theories are surfacing, claiming that Bin Laden is not really dead. Which means Barack Obama will go down in history as the first black person ever to have to prove that he killed someone." (Weekend Update)
15. " A 100-year-old man in California this week married his 93-year-old girlfriend. I dunno dude, one woman for the rest of your life? " (Update)
16. "The poverty rate is now at its highest since the 1960s. It's gotten so bad that Mitt Romney's butler let his butler go." –Conan O'Brien
11. “Huntington Beach, California this past weekend was the site of the second annual Surf City Surf Dog competition. Or as the sharks call it… Thanksgiving.” Seth Meyers (Weekend Update)
12. “It was announced Wednesday that the new judges for this season’s American Idol will be Jennifer Lopez, Steven Tyler and Randy Jackson. Otherwise known as ‘coffin nails one, two and three.’” Amy Poehler (Weekend Update)
13. “Blockbuster Video on Thursday filed for bankruptcy protection. Well Blockbuster, seems our 8 year tug of war over Tango & Cash has reached its conclusion.” Seth Meyers (Weekend Update)
14. "In the wake of President Obama's decision to not release pictures of Osama Bin Laden's body, a number of new conspiracy theories are surfacing, claiming that Bin Laden is not really dead. Which means Barack Obama will go down in history as the first black person ever to have to prove that he killed someone." (Weekend Update)
15. " A 100-year-old man in California this week married his 93-year-old girlfriend. I dunno dude, one woman for the rest of your life? " (Update)
16. "The poverty rate is now at its highest since the 1960s. It's gotten so bad that Mitt Romney's butler let his butler go." –Conan O'Brien
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Monologue Joke Attempts
Sarah Palin said Romney should be willing to light his hair on fire to get votes. Said his hair, "but hey, what's wrong with civil rights?"
Sarah Palin thinks Romney should pander more to get voters. But I don't know if he has enough wd40 for her grin and wink.
A whole worm was found in a man's eyeball. The only thing worse would be if they had found half a worm in a man's eyeball. ... And if he had been muuurdered.
Some consumers are interested in purchasing a new vaccuum that will cost a million dollars... That dirt better put out.
A Massachusetts business man is fighting a million dollar phone bill. But has he tried... scissors?
A woman put her soul for sale on E-Bay. Too bad everyone knows Satan uses craigslist.
A republican group is calling for Marvel to pull the Astonishing X-Men 51 from the shelves because it features a same sex marriage. That is disgusting. I don't want republicans reading X-Men.
A Florida fundamentalist group is calling for Marvel to pull the Astonishing X-Men 51 from the shelves because it features a same sex marriage. Because if you're gonna let fictional superpowered same sex mutants get married, what's next, children thinking love is real?
Republicans angrily proclaimed that the Astonishing X-Men 51 encouraged "kids to fantasize about having their own same-sex nuptials.” Hey, republicans, here's a tip. If you think something's evil maybe don't use the word "fantasize."
A report was released on the IMAX website saying that General Zod will be the villian in Man of Steel. Said fans, "Control F Lex Luther... Oh... Interesting."
(quiet, deadpan)
Republicans claimed that the Astonishing X-Men 51's same sex wedding may influence children. Said kids, "Maybe I'll try marrying my longtime partner AFTER walking through walls."
Advanced technological progress has been made on designs for the invisibility cloak. Now it's going to be slimming.
Scientists were surprised to discover a black hole that is less than average size. Said the hole, "Gimmie a break, it's like really cold out here."
This year the San Diego Comic Con was so huge that they had a blood bank. Or as Twilight fans said, "Are you making fun of me?"
Friday, July 6, 2012
chocolate
(Dedicated to Ross Parsons.)
The television blared with shrill music as the group of top models floating around their oversaturated bright colored lives. They flung their beautiful hair around the camera and complained about the competition. Stephanie scrunched up her face, squinting at the screen. Whenever it said the age of the models, she was always surprised, not that she thought they were older or younger, just ageless beings. Their shiny lives glowed in the dark silence of the night. She took another bite of pizza and spilled a droplet of sauce on her bed.
The television blared with shrill music as the group of top models floating around their oversaturated bright colored lives. They flung their beautiful hair around the camera and complained about the competition. Stephanie scrunched up her face, squinting at the screen. Whenever it said the age of the models, she was always surprised, not that she thought they were older or younger, just ageless beings. Their shiny lives glowed in the dark silence of the night. She took another bite of pizza and spilled a droplet of sauce on her bed.
She looked down at the tiny stain on the green sheet. Slowly resting her beer on the nightstand, she rose and ran her hands over the bed. Loosening the fitted sheet she tossed it unceremoniously into the laundry bin. She hugged her arms to herself and looked at the pile of dirty fabric. She hadn't done laundry since the accident. She hadn't done anything to the bedroom at all. It had been a month and now, due to her pizza clumsiness, she was obligated to wash away the last trace of Steve's smell.
Leaving the television on, Stephanie floated downstairs into the chocolate shop. In her pajamas and a pair of flip flops, she unlocked the door and surveyed the clean, quiet little room. She was no stranger to insomnia, but it was getting worse. She listened to nothing, to her quiet apartment upstairs. Now, no one woke up and noticed she was gone.
Nightly, she would haunt her chocolate shop, careful to keep the noise down as she worked, even though there was no one left to disturb.
Nightly, she would haunt her chocolate shop, careful to keep the noise down as she worked, even though there was no one left to disturb.
While she chopped up cocoa beans, the cat crawled in through the crack in the window and rubbed itself against her calves. Stephanie smiled down at the black feline, and the sweetness of it stung. She poured ingredients into a pan and turned the stove on. A tiny tear ran down her cheek and fell onto her breast. Placing her palms on the tile, she leaned heavily against the counter. A low, fatigued moan escaped her chest and she looked down into the brewing pot.
Shining in the dark brown pool was a light reflection. Stephanie leaned close, furrowing her eyebrows at the glimmer. The reflection could have been a pattern of her hair shadows, or a weird light thing, but it looked exactly like him. The harder she stared, the more she was sure. He looked up at her, and just as he started to notice and realize that it was her, the chocolate started boiling and he disappeared, sucked under and drowned into the bubbles.
Knocking over a bottle of something and a can of coconut, Stephanie messed with the dials until the boiling subsided. The chocolate relaxed into a flat sheet, and he was nowhere in the shadows. She plunged her hands into the hot liquid and thrashed the pot off the stove. It clanged against the wall and fell to the floor. Screaming in rage, Stephanie slumped against the counter, collapsing down to the ground, and put her chocolate stained hands up to her face.
She stayed up crying and cleaning the shop all night. She knew that it was impossible. She hadn't seen him; she was overtired and upset and needed to refill her prescription. Light poured into the scoured and exfoliated kitchen. She opened the shop to let customers in. The reality of bright light and chattering tourists gently washed away her fevered hallucination.
Partway through the day a little boy about eleven years old entered wearing a red hockey jersey and a weird airplane pilot style hat. He ordered two cups of hot chocolate and politely sat at the counter.
Stephanie poured the two cups of hot cocoa into white ceramic mugs and there he was again, peering up at her from the brown chocolate, the reflection of her dead husband, smiling and waving straight at her in both mugs of cocoa.
"Whip cream please," said the boy.
"Wha-?" Stephanie said, turning around.
"Whip cream." The little boy looked over his shoulder at the door and smiled. Then he looked at his watch. Then he asked her what time it was. Then he looked at his watch again.
Stephanie hesitantly squirted a flower of whip cream onto one of the cups of brown liquid. But she couldn't force herself to do it twice, to cover Steve up and bury him again.
"Are you waiting for someone?" she said.
"Yep!" The little kid grinned.
"How about... I pour the second cup for your guest when they arrive so it's nice and hot for them?"
"Oh, um, okay. But they'll be here super soon so what if you're like too busy?"
Stephanie looked around at the near empty shop. "I'll be okay."
"I don't want her to wait."
"Oh. A her."
"Yep!"
"Listen, if I'm busy, grab me and I'll stop whatever I'm doing to pour a new cup, okay?"
"'Kay!"
The little boy turned back toward the door, propped his shoulders on the counter, and cupped his chin in his hands. He stared at the open doorway, waiting.
Stephanie leaned against the wall and clutched her mug of cocoa to her chest. She stared down at the beautiful reflection of her deceased husband. She could see the flop of his messy hair, his chiseled chin, his big happy smile. It was definitely him, not that it would have been anyone else. He waved gleefully up at her. She smiled and waved with one hand back down at him. For hours, she stayed like this, clutching the cup, ignoring cleaning and baking duties, selling items to customers without giving them her full attention or taking her hands off the mug.
All the while the little boy in the red jersey sat waiting and staring at the door. Tourists passed in and out of it but none a singular little girl.
When night came, the little boy wordlessly got up and left the shop. Stephanie closed up, without bothering to count the till or do anything administrative. She headed upstairs, cradling the mug of chocolate, singing to it Steve's favorite songs. She cooed and hummed and stroked the wight rim, sipping her dead husband into her lips and then kissing the cup.
After hours of pacing around her apartment murmuring into the mug, Stephanie set it down on the nightstand and grabbed her pajama pants. As soon as the bottom of the cup touched the wood, the reflection flickered and then disappeared. Stephanie leaped up and swirled the cup around, shone different lamps into it, gulped more of the cold chocolate down, but Steve didn't come back.
She knocked her cup to the floor and it shattered, spilling watery sludge into the carpet. Stephanie ran downstairs in her pajamas, barefoot. She threw open the door to her kitchen and scrambled to grasp her cooking supplies. She brewed cup after cup of cocoa, then stared deep into the brown puddle, devoid of life. She poured each cup out and frantically made more, letting out sharp throat screams as she worked.
Birds chirped outside her window and the darkness dulled to a grey. She heard the garbage trucks driving by and the thud of newspaper landing against her front door. Her eyes stung from lack of sleep. Exasperated she brewed one last cup and this time her happy reflection of a husband smirked at her as if to remind her that he'd never really go, that he'd never leave her alone here.
She opened up the shop and let customers come in, but stayed in her pajamas all day, and kept the mug close to her. The little boy came in again, this time in a black sweatshirt. He again claimed to be waiting for someone, and sat at the counter politely.
Stephanie nursed her mug the whole day, singing and humming quietly to her waving reflection of a husband. He was so cheerful, so sweet, happy and lovely in the warm milky chocolate.
At the end of the day, she closed up, letting the little boy out last. He walked off into the empty evening to nowhere at all.
Stephanie stayed up most of the night, sitting up in her bed and mumbling, whispering to Steve. Steve didn't say anything back but he laughed, which was still something from a dead guy. When she woke up, she couldn't remember falling asleep, but her lap was wet and brown from spilled cocoa.
Letting out a wail, she stormed downstairs and baked feverishly, without opening the shop all day. A few tourists peered in. The little boy knocked, and then sat outside, leaning against the shop on the sidewalk.
After an hour Stephanie let the little boy in. He sat at the counter and read a magazine while she worked.
No matter what she made, Steve wouldn't reappear. Stephanie sobbed and created chocolate delicacy after delicacy. Her trembling hands molded truffles. Her shaking arms kneaded dough. Finally, she found him again. He was in a puddle on the counter. She laughed and cried and kissed the chocolate sludge. He winked up at her and whispered something inaudible. Stephanie brought her hear close to the fudge, but she couldn't make it out.
The little boy got up to leave. Stephanie stayed awake all night talking to her chocolate husband.
The next morning she opened the shop and let in the customers. It was all tourists that day, no little boy. Her hands were shaking as she took their money. Her ears rang with sharp pain as they spoke. Everything was too bright, too much. Her heart beat faster. Her breath shortened. Her shoulders caved inwards in pain. Everything was so shrill and intense. She just wanted to be alone with him in the darkness.
"Stephanie," said a rich deep voice, smooth and soft midst the high pitched natter of tourists.
"Hmm?" She asked, turning to the chocolate puddle on the counter. It rippled with joy at her recognition.
"Can you hear me?" the soft, nurturing, gentle voice cooed.
"Yes, Steve."
"Kill them."
"What?" She moved her ear closer to the puddle.
"Kill them all."
Stephanie stood quietly in the shop. She was so still that the customers sometimes didn't notice her and just shoplifted in front of her. The tourists screeched loudly about riding on the duck shaped buses. It was so loud. Tears fell from her eyes. The room darkened as if a cloud passed over the shop.
The bell on the top of the door dinged as it swung open and a brunette girl about 12 years old walked in. She was wearing a pink t-shirt and jeans with her hair piled up in a messy bun. She looked around for a second, gently letting her fingers brush past boxes of candy. She approached the counter and leaned against it's glass case, careful not to touch the puddle of chocolate. She smiled at Stephanie, "I'm here to meet someone."
Stephanie closed her tear streaked eyes and giggled.
Knocking over a bottle of something and a can of coconut, Stephanie messed with the dials until the boiling subsided. The chocolate relaxed into a flat sheet, and he was nowhere in the shadows. She plunged her hands into the hot liquid and thrashed the pot off the stove. It clanged against the wall and fell to the floor. Screaming in rage, Stephanie slumped against the counter, collapsing down to the ground, and put her chocolate stained hands up to her face.
She stayed up crying and cleaning the shop all night. She knew that it was impossible. She hadn't seen him; she was overtired and upset and needed to refill her prescription. Light poured into the scoured and exfoliated kitchen. She opened the shop to let customers in. The reality of bright light and chattering tourists gently washed away her fevered hallucination.
Partway through the day a little boy about eleven years old entered wearing a red hockey jersey and a weird airplane pilot style hat. He ordered two cups of hot chocolate and politely sat at the counter.
Stephanie poured the two cups of hot cocoa into white ceramic mugs and there he was again, peering up at her from the brown chocolate, the reflection of her dead husband, smiling and waving straight at her in both mugs of cocoa.
"Whip cream please," said the boy.
"Wha-?" Stephanie said, turning around.
"Whip cream." The little boy looked over his shoulder at the door and smiled. Then he looked at his watch. Then he asked her what time it was. Then he looked at his watch again.
Stephanie hesitantly squirted a flower of whip cream onto one of the cups of brown liquid. But she couldn't force herself to do it twice, to cover Steve up and bury him again.
"Are you waiting for someone?" she said.
"Yep!" The little kid grinned.
"How about... I pour the second cup for your guest when they arrive so it's nice and hot for them?"
"Oh, um, okay. But they'll be here super soon so what if you're like too busy?"
Stephanie looked around at the near empty shop. "I'll be okay."
"I don't want her to wait."
"Oh. A her."
"Yep!"
"Listen, if I'm busy, grab me and I'll stop whatever I'm doing to pour a new cup, okay?"
"'Kay!"
The little boy turned back toward the door, propped his shoulders on the counter, and cupped his chin in his hands. He stared at the open doorway, waiting.
Stephanie leaned against the wall and clutched her mug of cocoa to her chest. She stared down at the beautiful reflection of her deceased husband. She could see the flop of his messy hair, his chiseled chin, his big happy smile. It was definitely him, not that it would have been anyone else. He waved gleefully up at her. She smiled and waved with one hand back down at him. For hours, she stayed like this, clutching the cup, ignoring cleaning and baking duties, selling items to customers without giving them her full attention or taking her hands off the mug.
All the while the little boy in the red jersey sat waiting and staring at the door. Tourists passed in and out of it but none a singular little girl.
When night came, the little boy wordlessly got up and left the shop. Stephanie closed up, without bothering to count the till or do anything administrative. She headed upstairs, cradling the mug of chocolate, singing to it Steve's favorite songs. She cooed and hummed and stroked the wight rim, sipping her dead husband into her lips and then kissing the cup.
After hours of pacing around her apartment murmuring into the mug, Stephanie set it down on the nightstand and grabbed her pajama pants. As soon as the bottom of the cup touched the wood, the reflection flickered and then disappeared. Stephanie leaped up and swirled the cup around, shone different lamps into it, gulped more of the cold chocolate down, but Steve didn't come back.
She knocked her cup to the floor and it shattered, spilling watery sludge into the carpet. Stephanie ran downstairs in her pajamas, barefoot. She threw open the door to her kitchen and scrambled to grasp her cooking supplies. She brewed cup after cup of cocoa, then stared deep into the brown puddle, devoid of life. She poured each cup out and frantically made more, letting out sharp throat screams as she worked.
Birds chirped outside her window and the darkness dulled to a grey. She heard the garbage trucks driving by and the thud of newspaper landing against her front door. Her eyes stung from lack of sleep. Exasperated she brewed one last cup and this time her happy reflection of a husband smirked at her as if to remind her that he'd never really go, that he'd never leave her alone here.
She opened up the shop and let customers come in, but stayed in her pajamas all day, and kept the mug close to her. The little boy came in again, this time in a black sweatshirt. He again claimed to be waiting for someone, and sat at the counter politely.
Stephanie nursed her mug the whole day, singing and humming quietly to her waving reflection of a husband. He was so cheerful, so sweet, happy and lovely in the warm milky chocolate.
At the end of the day, she closed up, letting the little boy out last. He walked off into the empty evening to nowhere at all.
Stephanie stayed up most of the night, sitting up in her bed and mumbling, whispering to Steve. Steve didn't say anything back but he laughed, which was still something from a dead guy. When she woke up, she couldn't remember falling asleep, but her lap was wet and brown from spilled cocoa.
Letting out a wail, she stormed downstairs and baked feverishly, without opening the shop all day. A few tourists peered in. The little boy knocked, and then sat outside, leaning against the shop on the sidewalk.
After an hour Stephanie let the little boy in. He sat at the counter and read a magazine while she worked.
No matter what she made, Steve wouldn't reappear. Stephanie sobbed and created chocolate delicacy after delicacy. Her trembling hands molded truffles. Her shaking arms kneaded dough. Finally, she found him again. He was in a puddle on the counter. She laughed and cried and kissed the chocolate sludge. He winked up at her and whispered something inaudible. Stephanie brought her hear close to the fudge, but she couldn't make it out.
The little boy got up to leave. Stephanie stayed awake all night talking to her chocolate husband.
The next morning she opened the shop and let in the customers. It was all tourists that day, no little boy. Her hands were shaking as she took their money. Her ears rang with sharp pain as they spoke. Everything was too bright, too much. Her heart beat faster. Her breath shortened. Her shoulders caved inwards in pain. Everything was so shrill and intense. She just wanted to be alone with him in the darkness.
"Stephanie," said a rich deep voice, smooth and soft midst the high pitched natter of tourists.
"Hmm?" She asked, turning to the chocolate puddle on the counter. It rippled with joy at her recognition.
"Can you hear me?" the soft, nurturing, gentle voice cooed.
"Yes, Steve."
"Kill them."
"What?" She moved her ear closer to the puddle.
"Kill them all."
Stephanie stood quietly in the shop. She was so still that the customers sometimes didn't notice her and just shoplifted in front of her. The tourists screeched loudly about riding on the duck shaped buses. It was so loud. Tears fell from her eyes. The room darkened as if a cloud passed over the shop.
The bell on the top of the door dinged as it swung open and a brunette girl about 12 years old walked in. She was wearing a pink t-shirt and jeans with her hair piled up in a messy bun. She looked around for a second, gently letting her fingers brush past boxes of candy. She approached the counter and leaned against it's glass case, careful not to touch the puddle of chocolate. She smiled at Stephanie, "I'm here to meet someone."
Stephanie closed her tear streaked eyes and giggled.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
New Glasses
I sat at my desk pretending to be filing while secretly reading the news. I remember in school when reading the news felt like work and now I avoid work to do just exactly that. The art of pretending to file mostly involves minimizing the news-screen whenever my boss walks by and staring intently at a pile of random papers. I hope one day I can stare so hard they burst into flames. I think I'm getting there. When I touched the papers they felt a teensy bit warmer.
"Hey..." said a voice. I jumped, but it wasn't really a jump because I was sitting down. Basically, I flinched and my butt moved off the chair but not a lot. I swiveled around.
"Hi," I said.
The delivery guy smiled at me and I blushed. I'm not sure why. I wasn't attracted to him or embarrassed, which are my two normal emotions that elicit blushing. Regardless, I started blushing even more over the fact that I was blushing so hard and then looked down at my knees.
"Do you know where I can find a Barbara...?" he asked like it was a mythological creature he was hunting.
"That's me... You don't know my name? We've worked together three years."
"Oh, sorry, I thought you were Deborah."
"Um. No."
"Sorry, how rude of me. You're just so quiet."
"..."
"Package for you," he said. He handed me a small white bundle wrapped up. I signed for it and he tried to mutter something but I didn't look up at him. He stood in front of me for a few seconds and then left.
I ripped open the tape with vehement force and glee as I wrenched my new glasses from their delivery vehicle. I squealed softly to myself and unwrapped the large brown plastic frames. I took my contacts out and slid them over my ears. They covered most of my face, like big comfy space goggles. I felt so safe behind them, almost as though they were a mask concealing me from sight. They fit smooth and well, with almost a warm glowing touch on the bridge of my nose.
Rising from my desk, I decided to go stare at myself in the mirror for a while, and see how my new "look" worked. As I walked down the hall I saw a figure about my height, completely naked, with skin a dark reddish maroon color. The creature approached me in the hallway. He was carrying a stack of folders in his arms and frowning to himself. I halted short and stared at him. (Yes, I knew it was a him. He was naked. I'm not a pervert, but I have eyes.)
"Pardon me," said the naked red man, and walked right past me. I said nothing at all. I pivoted and watched him pass by. He disappeared into Cheryl's office. I expected to hear Cheryl scream or cry or be murdered. Instead, I heard her say, "Oh, thanks, Tom."
I slowly crept to her office doorway and peered in. Gasping, I stumbled backward, clutching the threshold for support. Sitting at Cheryl's desk was a emerald green woman with four breasts and big antler-like-horns coming out of her head. Her skin sparkled in a criss-crossing pattern of scales. She was speaking to the red naked man in Cheryl's voice. My mouth emitted a guttural moan and they both turned to look at me.
"You okay, Barb?" said the Cheryl/demon creature. I hate being called Barb... especially by demonlike bosses with horns and pointy vampire teeth.
I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes. When I did so I looked up and Cheryl and Tom stood in front of me, in their normal clothes and skin, silently watching with raised eyebrows and curled lips.
"Yeah," I said. "Fine." I put my glasses back on and suddenly they were back to their green and red respective monstrous shapes. I took my glasses off again and they were in human form. I backed out of the office wordlessly.
"Weird girl," I heard demon Cheryl say.
I hurriedly stumbled down the hall and almost ran into Ivan. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry," I said.
He brushed off my apology and smiled warmly. I put my glasses on and looked up at him. He was a giant blue rabbit. I took my glasses off, same old Ivan. Glasses on: scary bunny-freak of nature. He tried to calm me down, but I was shaking and fending off tears. I pushed him away and thundered through the hallway, past cubicles, desks, conference rooms and coffee machines. Everyone in the office looked differently when I had my glasses on, but I seemed to be the only one who could see them thus. I rested them on my head and dug the heals of my hands into my eye sockets, struggling to wipe out the nightmare.
I rushed back to my cubicle and rifled through my garbage to find the packaging the glasses came in. It looked so normal, from the eye doctor, with my prescription, detailed instructions on how to clean and care for my lenses that I would ignore... I squinted at it, and then lowered my glasses from my forehead down onto my face.
Dark blood red letters were scrawled on the white package, forming the words, "See everything."
Keeping my head down, I avoided any eye contact with glowing yellow demon eyes or flopping tails or deformed genitalia. I passed by Natalie on my way who gave me a chirpy hello and I noticed her wings. I walked into the cool dark bathroom. It smelled like soap and some sort of cleaner. I could vaguely hear someone blasting classical instrumental music at their desk. I was alone in the bathroom. I rubbed my hands anxiously against each other and shifted my weight foot to foot. My armpits grew moist and saturated my work blouse. My nose pores itched. I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, running my fingers along the sewn line. I raised my eyes slowly and looked up into the mirror.
Staring back at me was nothing.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Monologue Joke attempts
Conservatives claim that healthcare progression will cost us a very high price. What a weirdly dark way to label living longer.
According to a recent study, marijuana is the most popular drug on earth. That's really surprising. My prom date was popular!
In Florida, a 6 year old boy was bitten by a shark and is now hospitalized. That's terrifying. Sharks take bath salts?
Rihanna's hotel room in London caught fire yesterday. Firefighters had a hard time dousing it out because the fire was under her umbrella.
If you donate $3 to Romney's campaign you could win a dinner with him and Donald Trump! Hope you're not allergic to the blood of the proletariat.
A toddler was taken to the hospital after ingesting his grandma's pot cookies. Apparently he's sick of having the coolest grandma ever.
Romney released an overly ambitious ad detailing his first term goals. The overly ambitious part was his assumption that he'll get a first term.
Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise are divorcing. The final straw was when she looked in the mirror one morning and realized "oh, I'M Katie Holmes."
Rihanna's hotel room in London caught fire yesterday. Firefighters had a hard time dousing it out because the fire was under her umbrella.
If you donate $3 to Romney's campaign you could win a dinner with him and Donald Trump! Hope you're not allergic to the blood of the proletariat.
A toddler was taken to the hospital after ingesting his grandma's pot cookies. Apparently he's sick of having the coolest grandma ever.
Romney released an overly ambitious ad detailing his first term goals. The overly ambitious part was his assumption that he'll get a first term.
Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise are divorcing. The final straw was when she looked in the mirror one morning and realized "oh, I'M Katie Holmes."
Now, I guess the supreme court says that everyone in the US just has to have healthcare. Yay! Healthcare will be played by Colin Firth!
Japanese scientists designed a rock paper scissors robot that always cheats. Said the robot's wife, "You cad!"
Japanese scientists designed a rock paper scissors robot that can never lose. I never thought the rise of the machines would be instigated by "Who's gonna drive grandma to the airport?"
Reportedly, eating less carbohydrates may not assist weight loss. Said carbohydrates, "Crap! The jig is up!"
There are people living in the tatooine set from Star Wars. Said the inhabitants, "This IS the home we are looking for."
There are people living in the tatooine set from Star Wars. Said the inhabitants, "Well, my wife doesn't like it. But, I don't like her either..."
According to a recent study, one third of gamers would rather buy their games online. The other two thirds would rather buy their games from smugglers at Mos Eisley, but we can't always get what we want.
Reportedly, scientists may have discovered a Higgs Boson particle that could explain how the universe works. That particle understands why Kim Kardashian is famous.
Will Smith and M. Knight Shyamalan are collaborating on a film, and at the end the surprise Shyamalan twist is that he made a movie with a black person.
A British company is selling $150,000 trips to the Moon in an antique Soviet shuttle. That shows how far the human race has progressed. When I was a kid, suicide was free.
There's a new type of battery that you can spray onto the surface of whatever you're trying to power... "No... gross," said vibrators everywhere.
This week the I-Phone is officially 5 years old. So that explains why mine constantly demands my attention, plays games a lot, and is covered in cake.
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