How Surprising

            As Susan and Roy gazed at the stars from the bed of Roy’s pick-up truck, they sighed contentedly and made occasional small talk about the wonders of life. That night had gotten off to a wonderful start, and it seemed to only be getting better. Each had taken the night off of work, Roy from his construction job, and Susan had cancelled band practice for the night. It was their night, and they were enjoying it to the fullest extent. This was their 1-year anniversary for dating, and camping just seemed like the natural thing to do.

            The two gazed into each other’s eyes for minutes at a time, and she couldn’t help but giggle at the pure serenity of the moment. He thought for a fraction of a second that she was laughing at him, but he knew better. He just smiled, and made a remark about how lucky he was to have her in his life. They shared a kiss, and continued to star gaze.

            Suddenly, Roy was overcome with the urge to tell Susan one of the last secrets he had kept from her.  He knew this would bring them closer together.

            “Susan?” He whispered.

            “Yes, Roy?”

            “Remember that time you showed me you penis?”

            “Of course! It was a very delicate time for me.”

            “I just wanted you to know that surprised the shit out of me.”

            “I know, honey. I know. You took it so well at the time, though.”

            “Thank you. It reminded me of one of my cousins. One of them has a penis, too, you know.”

            “Really?” Susan said, sitting up and looking at Roy. “Which one? I had no idea any of them did.”

            “You remember Paul? I introduced the two of you at that party last August, and he comes around sometimes to play Halo and drink? He’s got one.” As if to punctuate his statement, Roy took out a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag from it.

            “Wow. I never would have guessed. I won’t bother him about it, though. That’s his business.” Susan said, pensively. “Still, it’s good to know this kind of thing about your relatives. Thank you, darling.”

            “You know you make me open up, baby. I can’t hide anything from you. I’ve been keeping that in for a while, and thought you should know.” And with that, he offered her his cigarette. Without a word, she took it, and finished it off.

At the Store

            The word “Baklava” always made me think of lobsters.  I don’t know why, but maybe it’s because I’m a lobster, myself.  We don’t really have a whole lot of imagination, but I hear things talk about stuff from outside this invisible box that I’m in.  They tied something around my claws, which is irritating at first, but everyone gets used to it.  All the other lobsters in here have them on their claws, too.  You should see some of these guys, too; they’re huge! It’s a good thing they can’t pinch me, because I have a tendency to say stupid things to other lobsters.

            The weirdest thing about living in this thing is getting used to eating without my claws, I think.  I wasn’t really sure how that was going to work, at first, but after a while, I got the hang of it.  Hunger is a great motivator; you learn that when you’re stuck in something you can’t see.  Sometimes I wonder if we should start having names, but then I remember that there’s a reason we don’t have names.  I don’t know what it is, but there’s a reason.  I would ask the other lobsters, but they might get offended.  They are just touchy like that.  It’s very hard to tell what will get you screamed at before they start screaming at you.  I wonder if the ones that get picked out of the box-thing tell that to whoever is around, wherever they go. 

            I don’t remember what I was doing before I got stuck in this thing, either.  Along with no imagination, the memory of us lobsters is a tad on the poor side, relative to guys like, say, squids, or sunfish.  Man, those sunfish are smart! You wouldn’t know it, just by looking at ‘em, but they are smart as hell, especially for looking like they were chopped in half right after they were born.  I thought they’d all be traumatized because they don’t have a tail, but they get along just fine.  Never met one that was mentally unstable, I’m proud to say.  The clownfish give the sunfish a bad rap.

            But wait, who’s picking me up, now?  I’m out of the box! This is amazing; I didn’t ever think it would happen to me! Wow!  I’m not crowded by other lobsters, but- oh, damn.  Now I’m in some sort of other invisible bullshit.  At least there’s water in here, that was nice of them to do.  What the hell is macaroni? These tall things eat macaroni? I hope that doesn’t mean I have to try it. Fuck macaroni.

Hiding

            “Holy shit, they’re coming, they’re coming! Hide your kids, hide your wife, hide your husbands!  I hate being right sometimes!”  The Jeffersons heard someone screaming outside their house.

            Fred looked up from his morning paper, slightly irritated that someone had the gall to break his routine with such nonsense about hiding husbands.  How could anyone want to hide Fred? His mustache was too marvelous to hide.  He was relatively sure some people would even take offense to his not being in public view at some point during the day.  Curious as to who would be spewing such drivel, Fred got up his favorite chair, and went to the front door.  He threw it open and asked the world “Who the hell thinks anything is coming? Why would you think that? Who’s coming?”

            A short-ish man in a dark purple sweat suit and an aluminum foil cowboy hat ran up to Fred’s front door, panting loudly.  “Name’s Ernesto.  The nudists are coming. I seen ‘em. Out that way. I like your mustache, guy.” Ernesto punctuated the statement with an enthusiastic pointing down the road.

            Flabbergasted, Fred didn’t realize that he had dropped his newspaper. It had been folded up in his hand, by his side.  “Dear God, please tell me you’re joking.”

            Shaking his head furiously, Ernesto replied “There are dozens of ‘em, man. Maybe hundreds, who knows? No way I stopped to count them all, I just ran.  Everybody needs to know.”

            “Damn straight, they do! We need to prepare! As you were, Ernesto. Godspeed!”  Without further ado, Fred shut the door and got his rifle from the closet right beside the door.  He made sure it was loaded, and went outside, running the direction Ernesto had come from, mustache twitching in anticipation for what would soon come. The nudists had to be stopped at any cost.

Doubts

            Smith ran her fingers through her hair, looking distraughtly at the frog that was perched on top of her work table.  How it had even found the place she worked at, she didn’t dare to guess, but it had found her, nevertheless.

            “You know why I’m here, Ms. Smith.”  The frog croaked.  Despite not being human, the frog had an air about him that reminded Smith of those stereotypical government agents that pop up in all kinds of movies.  She suppressed a snort of laughter as she imagined him with sunglasses and a badge.  Laughing wouldn’t help the situation at all.

            “Are you serious? You’re a frog!  How did you find my job? Isn’t there some other woman out there you can pester for romantics?  Go ask Lucille, she’s gullible enough to go through with this.  Why me?”  Smith tried to keep her voice down while still conveying her intense frustration at the frog.  If anyone saw her talking to this thing, she’d have to have another meeting with Mr. Lowry.  Last time they met, he said he’d fire her if she had to come in one more time.  This was not good.

            “Ms. Smith, you are the only one in the world with the right kind of magic to break me out of this curse. I’ve told you this countless times, and you still refuse to be the good Samaritan.  You Americans…” The frog shook his head with apparent disdain for Ms. Smith’s decisions thus far.

            “That’s just some line of crap you got from reading fairy tales, and you expect me to just go along with you? You’re a frog!”

            “Yes, you said that already. But if I am merely a frog, how did I read those fairy tales?  Regular frogs can’t read, you should know that, what with your expertise in frogs and everything.”

            “I will NOT be mocked by a frog! You have a point, though. If I do this, will you leave me alone?” Smith asked, running out of options and time.  If this frog would just go away, she could go back to her life.  Sure, there were cameras around, but anything can be doctored now.  And it wasn’t as though her reputation could sink much worse than it already had, after announcing that she was a vegan.  Why did everyone look down on vegans, seriously? She never understood that.

            “Absolutely. I want this to be over with as much as you do. Frogs are not allowed to drink Starbucks coffee. I’d sue for discrimination, but I cannot find any lawyers willing to work with a frog, either. It’s truly an awful existence.” 

            Smith contemplated a life without lawyers or expensive coffee, and struggled to find a downside.  She struggled very hard, if only for a minute or two, and finally concluded with “What the hell, I’ll give it a shot.” And gave the frog a quick kiss in the top of the head.

            “Thank you!” the frog croaked, as it began glowing like a rave party.  It slowly rose into the air, rotating as it did so.  It shook violently, and a flash of light permeated the entire office space.  When the light subsided, an albatross sat exactly where the frog had been perched just moments before. Smith quickly grabbed it by the neck, and threw it against the copier on the other side of the cubicle.

            “What the fuck?! You give me this spiel about being human, and you’re really an albatross?” She screamed, momentarily losing any cares about not looking like she was talking to animals again.

            “I thought I WAS human! I had my doubts, but I really thought I was!  How am I going to get some Starbucks now?  I don’t remember being a bird before, but can you blame me for trying?” If a bird could smile sheepishly, Smith had a feeling this one would have.  That didn’t help its case at all, though. She was still going to be fired when Lowry found out.

So Creamy

            The ice cream truck rolled down Acorn St at 4:08 pm, like it did every Tuesday and Thursday, blaring that same old ice cream truck song that sends all the kids into violent frenzies (not quite the same as ‘friendsies’, mind you).  Within seconds, children and their parents rushed to the sidewalk, the children vibrating with excitement, and the parents looking for solace in their wallets.  The truck of frozen goodies stopped, and everyone rushed forward, forming the customary blob of people, rather than the single-file line that would have made a lot more sense.

            “Good day, everyone! What’ll it be? Do you want something new and exciting?” The ice cream truck driver opened up the side of his truck and announced his business to everyone, and the kids yelled their yearning for new things, especially the exciting ones.  They were so excited.

            “I just made a bunch of this flavor that no one else has, and you guys are gonna be the first to try it! This is so awesome!” The driver knew how to pump up a crowd of toddlers and children, that was certain.  With a flourish, he pointed at the sign above his window.

            “Get your vampire dicks!  They’re cold, they’re hard, they’re satisfying! Guaranteed to taste better than Father Brian’s dick, and with none of the guilt or associated therapy!”  His mirthful laughter began to clash quite obviously with the horrified glares from the adults.  None of the kids got it, except for Little Johnny, of course, who laughed his ass off, as well, so they all started staring at the driver and at Johnny.

            “Excuse me, sir,” one of the parents said, his voice obviously restraining the verbal thrashing he wanted to give the driver, “but my name is Brian, and I have two children. I find your insinuation that I engage in sexual acts with minors to be incredibly offensive, not to mention the name of your new product. “ Brian paused to breathe for a second, and the driver’s laughter got a bit more hysterical (“YOU’RE Brian?! Baaahahahaha!! Watch out, kids!”).  “I am almost speechless, but I have to ask you, why did you think this was a good idea to sell to children?” Brian concluded his question with his arms crossed over his chest. 

            “Oh come, now, Brian. Is it really that bad to want a break from all the routine?” The driver spoke in between dying bouts of laughter, “I was just trying to fix some boredom around here, and I think these are doing just the trick, don’t you? I did it on a dare.”

            “Oh, really,” Brian asked. “Who dared you? You must have sick friends, and I feel sorry for them. I truly do. If this is how you get off.”

            “I did.”

            “You did what?”

            “I dared me to do it! Like I said, trying to break up some boredom,” the driver said. “But if you aren’t happy with my services, I’ll go somewhere else. Good day!” Without further ado, the ice cream truck fled the scene, and many a child in that neighborhood bothered their parents for vampire dicks for the following week.