Kneeling creek

“A woman is kneeling beside a creek, searching the murky water with her hands.” Tom heard from over his shoulder.

            “What the hell are you babbling to me about?” he asked, never bothering to look directly at his buddy.  I take this kid out for a nice, quiet day in the wilderness. A NICE. QUIET day… what’s so hard to understand about those two words? Tom mumbled nothing in particular as he shoved his hands back into his pockets, and kept walking.

            “I said, a woman is kneeling beside a creek, searching the murky water with her hands! Where’d she come from? What’s her name? Is she fishing? I always wondered if women fished in their free time, or if it was just men. She wasn’t wearing shoes, either. That’s weird. Why wouldn’t someone wear shoes? Do you think she’s one of those hippy people? What’s her name? You should go tal-“

            “Ho, wait! Wait a second there, little friend. We need to take care of something first. I have a question for you, before I answer any of the butt-ton of questions you just threw at me. I found this in my pack a minute or two ago, and… I can’t remember what this is. Smell it, just take a wiff, and tell me… Does this smell like chloroform to you?” Tom asked as he deftly held a hanky to his friend’s nose.

            “Chloro what?” the smaller one managed to sputter right before falling to the ground, unconscious.

            “That’s why we don’t ask questions, you get so curious your God-damn consciousness wonders why it has to stay with you. Now, go the fuck to sleep!” Tom giggled a bit under his breathe at that last bit. Redundancy was always funny to him. Always. As he picked up his unconscious border collie, he started wondering where he had left the truck. It was about time to get home, anyway. There was no point to being out here anymore, and what if there really was a woman out there, playing in the creek? Talking with dogs wasn’t exactly common practice, even out here. Most people didn’t even know they spoke English. But we know better, don’t we? Tom thought to himself, wandering back through the woods. After about an hour, Tom wondered if they had even rode the truck into the woods. By this time, the dog was regaining consciousness, and had figured out what had happened.

            “You ass! Guess who’s getting peed on tonight? Remember, I know where you sleep.”

            “You had it coming, dog. You knew you were being annoying.”

            “What? She was pretty! You would have liked her, if you’d have just given her the chance! She smelled nice, too. You definitely deserve getting peed on, you can’t say you don’t. Who drugs a dog, especially their dog? What the hell, man?”

            “You act like it’s the first time!”

            “That wasn’t the first time?! What have you done to me?”

            “Ah, don’t worry about it. You didn’t have any of the bad side effects, just the ones I wanted.”

            “What about that time my eyes turned green? You never told me what happened there.”

            “Oh, yeah. That… That actually was bad. I was worried about that. Sorry.”

            “I need some bacon SO BAD! You have no idea how much pee you’re gonna be swimming in some day soon. You just wait. One day… pisssssssssssss”

If I Could Do It Over Again

            Johan wept at the pitiful sight before him. How could things have gone so terribly, horribly wrong? At what part of the process had he gone awry? He was not yet sure of how he could have done better, but he knew that he could have, somehow. If I could do it all over again, Johan thought to himself, I probably should have gone with plaster of Paris, instead of this latex based paint. His planned looked great on paper: wait until his little brother, Ziggy, had passed out from drinking (as he tended to do on Tuesdays), and paint his entire body some interesting color he found at the local store. Blue happened to be on sale today, so Johan had gotten enough blue paint to cover the outside of his house. He wasn’t sure exactly how much was needed to paint a grown human’s entire body, but he figured it would be less than that.

            After covering Ziggy’s body with blue paint, he woke up screaming. They quickly found out that Ziggy was allergic to latex, and rushed him to the backyard for a quick hose-down. Ziggy’s reaction wasn’t lethally strong, thankfully, but it did cause painful sores to develop everywhere the paint had touched him, and it had touched him everywhere. As Ziggy sat on the ground, rubbing antihistamine cream on himself, Johan pondered the possible consequences of covering Ziggy with plaster of Paris. Would there be much of a change in price? If so, which was more expensive? Would the plaster wash off as easily as the latex-based paint did? Johan strongly hoped that it wouldn’t. If it did, all the fun would be ruined, since Ziggy would not be forced to walk around town in some color that wasn’t his natural skin color, which was no fun at all. He wondered, for a minute or so, if this would give Ziggy pause next time he began drinking next Tuesday, but that was quickly disregarded. Nothing would stop Ziggy from drinking next Tuesday, the opportunity would present itself to paint him again. Oh yes, this time had resulted in a massive failure: not only had the paint washed right off, but Ziggy was allergic to latex, which was bad. Johan made a mental note to keep condoms away from his brother, for his own safety, but he tried not to think of that for too long. He had some research to do before next Tuesday.

Why Does This Always Happen to Me?

“Ah, sonofabitch, it happened again.” Ned said.

“Why didn’t you just press that button instead?”

Tyler objected, from the bed.

“How was I to know-“

“Have you guys seen my toe?”

I rudely exclaimed from below.

Everyone looked down at me

To see how the fuck I could be

Indubitably and indefinitely

Serious about losing a fucking toe.

We glanced around, in the glow,

Looking for my lost toe.

Who’s decision was it, though,

To play in the knife factory?

Why does this always happen to me?

I’m always suggesting these things,

Regardless of whatever consequence the action brings,

And treat cautionary tales as a bucket of springs.

They simply seem silly,

Much like my neighbor’s dog Willy,

Plus, after all, I’m Hill Billy.

Making Progress

            Aubrey woke up with a start to the sound of her new alarm clock.  As she wondered and remembered where she was- her new apartment-, she hit the snooze button and rolled over. Her hand hit something metallic as she was rolling over, and she quickly rolled back to investigate.  Beside her on the bed lay one of her silver dinner trays with her favorite breakfast on it: sunny-side up eggs, strawberry yogurt, and a little glass of Tang.  This, while delicious, freaked her out a bit. Someone had to have gotten into her room while she was asleep.  She quickly glanced around the room, and found the window to the fire escape open. I thought I locked that, she thought as she softly walked over to the window. Upon getting to it, Aubrey found a folded-up piece of paper lying on the windowsill.  Further perplexed, she picked up the note, and saw with an odd mix of fright and pleasure that it had her name on the front, written in rather elegant calligraphy.

            Aubrey picked up the piece of paper and tried to think of anyone she knew that had taken up calligraphy… ever.  It really wasn’t a popular practice, and she had a hard time thinking of anyone.  She was tempted to crumble up the paper and throw it out of the window. But what could it hurt to read the note?  They might have left their name, if nothing else, she thought.  Aubrey went ahead and unfolded the letter, and read what little there was in it:

            “Hey Aubrey!

            I know this looks odd as all hell, but I thought today could use a bit of a break in routine. You just got a new apartment, why should things begin the same way they always have, right?  I didn’t mean to scare you, exactly, just wanted to shake things up for today.

            Have a great day,

            Tod”

            “Oh, it’s Tod.” Aubrey said to no one in particular.  He did things like that sometimes. Aubrey and Tod had known each other for most of their lives, and she knew he was an attention whore. This was a bit much, though.  And she wondered when he had practiced calligraphy. Still, that meant she didn’t have to worry about where the breakfast came from anymore, or if it was safe to eat it.  She ate it quickly while trying to savor it at the same time (work still started at 9:00, whether or not people snuck into your house), and picked up the tray to take it back into the kitchen. She felt another piece of paper on the bottom of the tray as she picked it up.  “Another note?” she mumbled as she flipped the tray upside down and removed the tape from the note.  She sat the tray back down, unfolded the note, and read:

            “Hey Aubrey,

So, guess what? I’ve decided to take a stand today! I feel so proud of myself, it’s hard to write this down.  As I sit here, on your new couch, I can’t help but be reminded of how much you mean to me, and what an amazing person you are.  Why, look at yourself. You have a nice car, a great job that you love, a new place to live, a couch that is incredibly comfortable, and all the friends you could ask for. You’ve got it made, I’m so happy for you!  You went through college, paid your dues at your company, and I’d say you’re doing really well for yourself. I’d also like to add that your taste in décor is quite impeccable, too.

            But that’s not why I’m writing this note.  I’m writing it to say that I love you. I have loved you for years.  I gave you everything, and you just took it in stride. While that’s nice, you didn’t reject me, but you never seemed to really grasp what I was trying to do. You missed the point. You’ve always treated me like that guy down the street that you don’t know very well. I never understood that.  I watched you fall for other people, I watched you cry to your girlfriends about them, I watched you go through college and all of the trials and tribulations that are associated with such a journey.  I’ve loved you on every segment of the path, and you still don’t really talk to me.  I don’t get invited to your house, I don’t know most of your other friends, it’s hard to even get a lunch date with you.  I gave you my car once.  You didn’t have to pay for it, or anything, you needed it. I was glad to let you have it.  I kept trying to talk to you, to hang out with you, and you wouldn’t have any of it.  What do I have to do to get it through your head that you are everything to me?! I get what you’re doing, but I only wish that I was anything to you.  You talked to the school nurses as fondly as you talked to me!

            In light of all of this, I will not wait for you any longer. I don’t care what your excuses are. Being selfless has gained me nothing in my life but emotional torment. So, without further ado, your entire breakfast was poisoned. 

You’re going to die in a few minutes so fuck you,

 Tod

P.S. – Oh my God, our first lovers’ spat! We’re making progress!

Hotel Loitering

As you read this right now, you are standing in a hotel lobby. How do we know this? We paid the doorbell to hand you this note, you dolt. How many times have we told you to quit questioning our authority?

The man you are to meet will be in the bathroom on the east side of the room at precisely 11:39 p.m. You will be there 63 seconds after he enters the door to said bathroom. Be sure to measure the time interval exactly, but (in case it need be said again) for God’s sake do not LOOK like you are counting the seconds. We will be monitoring your progress; we will know if you do this.  Upon entering the bathroom, locate the contact. This is the easiest step in the process. He has canaries for shoes; he cannot be missed. If you are thinking “This must be a secret message, or something. Canaries aren’t shoes”, you’ll be quite surprised to find out that we mean he has little yellow birds on his feet. You will see them, for surely you cannot miss him. Once contact is made, tell him this, “Chester! I should have known you would be here! You may have won this battle, you sly dog, but my pink flamingos will out live everyone!” This is the code phrase that will set our plan in motion. We believe it is only fair to warn you that, at this point, he will strip down to his canaries and run at you. You are to run away. This, again, should be a simple task, as you showed promise for running away from aggressive nudies when we included you in that raid on the Turkish prostitution ring. There are pictures of it in the office, how could we forget?

This may seem to be nonsense at this time, but let us assure you that this is all part of a very well coordinated, long thought-out plan that is completely over your head. We don’t want you bogged down with the complexity of it all, so we only give you your part. Try to do your best.

Now that you have run away from your contact, use the Japanese smoke spheres to cause more confusion, and make a clean getaway with your contact’s abandoned clothes. Outside, you will find a Goodwill store. Discreetly deposit the clothes in the Goodwill store, then go to the least-adept looking cashier and whisper the phrase “I have a gun” into his/her ear. This is also a code phrase, one that will trigger an evacuation of the store, if you do this correctly. Invade the manager’s office, and press the blue-ish button behind the door. You will hear, and hopefully feel, an explosion nearby. This is good. After hearing the explosion, feel free to go home, eat your popcorn, and catch a nap. We will chat later.

Remaining ever vigilant,

The Man Inc.