The going was good so you know. I had heard about this spot from that person of a certain age and gender who hung around the coffee shop most days until they remodeled it for way more seating and then it was such a pain to squeeze between the new tables trying to get out so that person stopped going there. The spot was tight and out of the way. I would never have found it otherwise. I used to go fishing for sea glass and this spot was a miracle. The going was so good! It was also always low tide between the cliffs and I understand that seems impossible but there it was. Low tide forever and sea glass out the yin yang if you know what I mean. The rope that dropped from the cliff was kind of frayed and the three hundred foot drop was a bit much I will admit. I didn’t think about the way back up. I guess I figured love would find a way and I was in love with that spot. I didn’t even listen to the vagabond cursing in the parking lot about the tourists ruining everything because that is their one and only mission in life as far as I can tell. We came, we took a photo, we ruined. Something like that but in Latin. My pockets were stuffed full, so full of incredible sea glass I didn’t even notice when the tide came in for the first time in the history of the world. I could still hear the vagabond laughing though. It sounded like the ocean.
After colliding with the rainbow, Jakester was seriously injured. They rushed him to the emergency room at the nearest hospital, but the hospital had been shut down by the governor due to a simple misunderstanding. The next nearest hospital was a day’s trek away across the unwelcoming tundra. They put Jakester in a barrel of dry ice and sent him off rolling down the dunes. The only one who stuck around was Rodrigo, who took a smoke break and watched the barrel ease to a halt after a while. Rodrigo was not cut out for this line of work. He was barely twelve and could only chug a half a beer before throwing up. Jakester, on the other hand, was the kind who collided with rainbows. If he could do that then anything is possible, Rodrigo thought. He shrugged, tossed the joint and took off running. Someone else was going to have to finish the job.
For some time I waited by the water fountain outside the family restroom at the gym. I thought maybe if I stood there long enough I would suddenly become inspired to go in and work out. I hate working out. I also hate water fountains. I hate the fact that with a water fountain you both always and never know what you’re getting. It’s going to be water but is it going to work at all? Is it going to work too well? Are your pants going to be ruined or what illness might you catch from merely coming in contact with the cold grey thing. I was stalling. I can often avoid doing the things I don’t want to do by mentally listing all the things I hate. I can go on for hours if not days. I hate it when I do that, but then I also love it because procrastination is my god and my art. I once waited eighteen whole years, hating every minute of it, until I became a legal adult.
I used to think the flowers were pretty. Now I just think they’re showing off their ass to bugs. I don’t know anyone who likes bugs. No, I take that back, I do know someone who likes bugs. But that doesn’t matter. Because all the bugs are going away. I heard that someone played a flute once and the bugs went away or maybe it was snakes or rats. Anyway, I don’t like flutes. I think they’re for cows. I know what I’m talking about. I knew a cow once. Another thing I learned is that people who think the Earth is flat think that Antarctica surrounds the whole thing and somehow keeps you from falling off the edges. It makes sense when you think about it. I mean, it makes sense that people who believe in stupid things have stupid things they believe in.
When your best friend is a raisin there might be cause for some concern. Angelina of course never told anyone that her best friend was a raisin. She wasn’t dumb. Ray-ray, as she called him, lived a comfortable life in a matchbox in her dresser, cosily tucked away beneath a tangle of various loose socks. Angelina liked to mix and match. She had other friends. Some of them were even people. She didn’t much trust them, though. She had found out the hard way that secrets can be used against you, even silly, harmless ones. Middle school was hard enough. There was no way she was going to let anybody harm her Ray-ray, and she would never betray his secrets either. Only she knew his deepest, dark desires and she was determined to protect him, no matter what.
I suppose you know what you’re doing
It’s not the way I would do it but
When I realized it was yet another man talking I just sort of
Those words had no meaning
What he said sounded like blah blah blah blah blah
He supposed I knew what I was doing
It wasn’t the way he would do it but
I was only asking
How many ways, exactly, are there to skin a cat?
Did you know that in different countries cats have different numbers of lives? Here it’s nine but in other places it’s seven or even six.
If you were a cat, wouldn’t you want to know that?
Not the skinning thing, the place you should go to have more lives!
Little known prophecies that don’t even matter:
- On January 4th, 1982, a robin poked its head out of its nest and noticed a yellow leaf falling from above. It was the last leaf remaining on that particular maple tree that particular year, and it meant that there was going to be an early Spring with a lot of nice warm rain.
- On January 4th, 1612, a badger was eaten by a wolf near the border of Siberia and absolutely fucking nowhere. This was a clear indication that there was going to be an early Spring with a lot of cold hard rain.
- On January 4th, 1188, a fish swam in a creek down where New Orleans was later to be. The fish passed beneath a branch upon which several tiny black ants were marching. It was later observed by a local human that there was an early Spring with a lot of cool, refreshing rain.
- If you ever see a one-legged robin, a two-headed badger, and a fish walking on water within a week, more or less, of a January 4th, chances are there will be an early and very wet Spring.
Simon Moses thought hard about the situation. It was not going to be easy. The missing persons database was an old version slated for deprecation, and it was his job to upgrade the damn thing. No one had touched the system software for nearly twenty years, and yet every day new rows were added and old rows were edited as the I.B.L.C. went about their business. Simon looked up from his desk at the other clerks in the dusty desert office. Hala was sorting through the online obituaries, looking for matches. Grace was filing new entries, tapping away with her gentle, if gradual precision. York was eating yet another mud pie. How many of those things can one man eat? Simon thought with a sigh. There were already five hundred and seventeen million, four hundred and eighty one thousand, six hundred and fourteen rows in the database of missing persons. So many people. So many lost. Simon knew very well that the last time he touched this database he had accidentally encrypted all the timestamps. No one could ever know how long those people had been gone. Fortunately for Simon, no one ever wanted to know. If only he could remember what mistake he’d made. God only knows how I’m going to screw it up this time, he thought.
His Excellency The Bon Bon Vigorator invented many whatsits in his time. Known for his playful and whimsical humor, one of his all-time favorite gadgets was the knee incinerator. This handy device would burn away the cartilage from the inside but slowly, oh so slowly, so that the subject would never lose consciousness but live to enjoy the entire experience. B.B.V., as he was known to his adoring fans, often enjoyed witnessing the demonstrations of his tiny toys. Princes and Ministers from all over the world would invite him to partake. There was never any shortage of an entourage. It takes a village after all. The Beeb and his buds always traveled first class, and they loved to shower the crowd with bubbly. It was rumored that Mr. V. had once been a lowly gym instructor at some awful rural dump of a school, where he had spent much of his time imagining and daydreaming. Those days were long gone now if indeed they ever were. His Excellency had one saying, and one saying only, that he loved to repeat whenever he got the chance. “Re-invent the wheel?” he’d ask and quickly answer with “why the fuck not!” and laugh out loud with his wonderfully boisterous voice.
Holly watched in agony as her neighbor down the street was being broadcast live on the TV news as the latest disaster area. All she could see on the screen were houses and cars and the neighbor, all tubby and sweaty and gross and seriously freaking out as he described what could only be called the worst thing he had ever experienced. His garage door was open behind him and the whole world could see his collection of blow-up barbies and assorted related paraphernalia. Holly always suspected the guy was something of a weirdo, not that she had anything against anyone’s kink, that was entirely their business, but his taste in blow-up barbies was a little too close for comfort. Most of them kind of looked like Holly herself; short-ish thin-ish Asian-ish females with dark-rimmed glasses beneath well-kept glossy black bangs. It was certainly a shame that the wildfire was getting closer by the minute but really, now she was going to have to move anyway.