Very Short Stories, 16-23
16.
The lull in the conversation drove Peter Diamond mad, as was evident in his peculiar jerkiness at the steering wheel. "Henrietta, my darling, we must stop this heinous charade," he said, long scarf trailing elegantly behind him as the two sped northwardly on California's I-5. "Surely, your kind words to those other, tawdry men--your weekends with the parakeet in Vancouver--the Bocce balls strewn about haphazardly in the study--they mean something. I cannot be a lowly pawn in your game, my darling. I cannot bear your lies much longer, lest I erupt in a pitiful conflagration of woe! This is all madness, I tell you! Madness!"
Henrietta, who unbeknownst to Peter was really an aging man bearing an uncanny resemblance to Roger Waters, mulled this over for a moment. "Well," he thought, "I am one confused, kidnapped orthodontist."
17.
Agatha the helicopter sat in the cold, dreary hangar, waiting for a pilot to come around and take her soaring high above the beautiful fields of white snow that she knew lay outside, glistening their glisteney glisters. "Surely, winter has come," she thought to herself while batting her long, helicoptery eyelashes, "and I will be oh so high above the frosty trees! I will fly so far, so fast! I will fly at last at last!"
Unfortunately, all the pilots knew all-too-well of Agatha's aberrant self-cognizance and were thusly terrified of her. "No way I'm flying in that sentient machine," they told each other. "We can never go up in that freakish Thomas-the-Tank-Engine thing. Think of all the legal and philosophical implications--if anybody heard about this, our small piloting operating would keel over under the public's collective scrutiny." The pilots then agreed to never mention Agatha again, locked the hangar that held her, and waited a very long time until she died. She was alone; her last thoughts were of the jetstream.
18.
At a pizza parlour in the mid-nineties, a ten-year-old asks his father for a quarter. "I want to play pinball," he states without much nuance.
"Fine," replies the father, "if I have one." He fishes through his acrylic coin purse, pushing the sides together to grant his fingers a little more freedom in the ellipse. "Have fun. But for chrissakes, I'm sick of this whole I-want-to-do-what-I-want-to-do attitude. It's getting really old." The father then tries to find a table.
The child feels really bad, and decides not to play pinball. Instead of going to the small alcove that houses the arcade machines, he runs to the men's restoom. On the verge of tears, he puts the quarter in the left pocket of his winter jacket, intending to return it later. Thinking that he'd look foolish returning from his theoretical pinball game so soon, he spends some time staring at his reflection in the chrome spigot of the hand dryer. "God," he thinks, "I hate how ugly my face always looks in this thing." Later that evening, he forgets to give the quarter back.
"Fine," replies the father, "if I have one." He fishes through his acrylic coin purse, pushing the sides together to grant his fingers a little more freedom in the ellipse. "Have fun. But for chrissakes, I'm sick of this whole I-want-to-do-what-I-want-to-do attitude. It's getting really old." The father then tries to find a table.
The child feels really bad, and decides not to play pinball. Instead of going to the small alcove that houses the arcade machines, he runs to the men's restoom. On the verge of tears, he puts the quarter in the left pocket of his winter jacket, intending to return it later. Thinking that he'd look foolish returning from his theoretical pinball game so soon, he spends some time staring at his reflection in the chrome spigot of the hand dryer. "God," he thinks, "I hate how ugly my face always looks in this thing." Later that evening, he forgets to give the quarter back.
19.
A disgruntled tradesman in early 18th-century London decided that he knew far more about optics than Isaac Newton, who had just published his now famous treatise on the matter. "Oaye sees wha aye sees, oaye does, an'noa bloo'ey soi-en-'iss is gonna chainj 'at wih 'is prizzems," he said in a comically cockneyed accent, rich in voiceless fricatives and "glaa'-'ol stops." To prove the vast superiority of his knowledge, he quickly devised an elaborate "test" for Newton that would involve (among many other things) various breeds of horses, elaborate pulley systems, limbless orphans, and a vat of cheap wine. He worked sleeplessly for weeks, meticulously arranging all the necessary components in the middle of the street outside his home.
As the project neared completion, however, and the tradesman slowly regained his sobriety (he did drink a lot), he began to forget why exactly he was going to such immense lengths to prove his keen understanding of light and its various properties. His test, as he soon realized, was really nothing more than a humiliating Rube Goldberg-esque booby trap, and that anything he did to the recently knighted scientist would consequentially jeopardize his life. If these things weren't bad enough, he began to doubt the superiority of his knoweldge on the matter of optics in the first place. "Oayem really a moaron," he said, desperately trying to stop further construction on the project before Newton heard of it. "Opticks? Whaye of awl things mus'ayeuv chawlendge d'im awn thaa', as uh'owsed tah alcohawl, ohw' elabrit traps?"
Sadly, it was too late for regrets, and an angry Isaac Newton was unwittingly thrusted by a horde of kittens into an empty barrel full of burning, deadly snakes.
As the project neared completion, however, and the tradesman slowly regained his sobriety (he did drink a lot), he began to forget why exactly he was going to such immense lengths to prove his keen understanding of light and its various properties. His test, as he soon realized, was really nothing more than a humiliating Rube Goldberg-esque booby trap, and that anything he did to the recently knighted scientist would consequentially jeopardize his life. If these things weren't bad enough, he began to doubt the superiority of his knoweldge on the matter of optics in the first place. "Oayem really a moaron," he said, desperately trying to stop further construction on the project before Newton heard of it. "Opticks? Whaye of awl things mus'ayeuv chawlendge d'im awn thaa', as uh'owsed tah alcohawl, ohw' elabrit traps?"
Sadly, it was too late for regrets, and an angry Isaac Newton was unwittingly thrusted by a horde of kittens into an empty barrel full of burning, deadly snakes.
20.
As Lucy ran her hands along the walls of her prison cell, she was surprised to find that they were made not of cinder, cement and stone, but rather of what seemed like candy. "Could this be?" she asked herself.
"It costs a fortune," said a nearby guard, spotting her, "but you know, the warden had to do it to stop all the insubordinations and murders around here."
"The walls--how they're made of candy?"
"No. What? God, no; I mean how you don't have eight roommates anymore. Someone complained to the state about the lack of sanitation, and how that's so important to people's mental well-being or whatever new age shit like that."
"So why are the walls made of candy?"
"Lowers numbers. Quick way to deal with the diabetics."
"It costs a fortune," said a nearby guard, spotting her, "but you know, the warden had to do it to stop all the insubordinations and murders around here."
"The walls--how they're made of candy?"
"No. What? God, no; I mean how you don't have eight roommates anymore. Someone complained to the state about the lack of sanitation, and how that's so important to people's mental well-being or whatever new age shit like that."
"So why are the walls made of candy?"
"Lowers numbers. Quick way to deal with the diabetics."
21.
Off the coast of Costa Rica, a wealthy old entrepreneur decided to build an amusement park like no other ever before! It was to be grander and more spectacular than all the Disney themeparks combined, rendering their technologies--dare we say it--prehistoric! In some ways, it was to resemble a zoo, but in so many others, it was to be like nothing before seen, at least in 65 million years!
And so, after five tumultuous years of malaria-ridden construction, the excessively hyped Oil Rig Park opened to lacklustre fanfare, and was frequently scorned by critics as a rather transparent attempt to circumvent standard Costa Rican oil rig policy.
And so, after five tumultuous years of malaria-ridden construction, the excessively hyped Oil Rig Park opened to lacklustre fanfare, and was frequently scorned by critics as a rather transparent attempt to circumvent standard Costa Rican oil rig policy.
22.
The Jack-O-Lantern floated ominously toward the young child's head. "Leave this place! I eat young children and turn them into trees for the blood harvest," it said. Unfazed and only slightly confused by this warning, the child chose not to react, instead opting to bat his Halloween costume's soft puppy dog ears. The Jack-O-Lantern then proceeded to scream frighteningly and eat the child, consuming the entire body in a quick flash of fire. As the smoke and faint smell of ozone dissipated, a large oak slowly rose on the spot where the young lad once stood.
"Aw, shit," said the inattentive employees of Chuck E. Cheese's, rushing toward the rather obvious tree now growing in the ball pit, "Not again. This is the last time we host a Halloween Bash."
"Aw, shit," said the inattentive employees of Chuck E. Cheese's, rushing toward the rather obvious tree now growing in the ball pit, "Not again. This is the last time we host a Halloween Bash."
23.
"Larry! Watch out! That carpet swatch display is gonna fall on your head!"
The Home Depot, you see, was a place full of unforeseen dangers, many of which could have been easily rendered inconsequential had the wacky employees not raced the sink-laden forklifts so much.
The Home Depot, you see, was a place full of unforeseen dangers, many of which could have been easily rendered inconsequential had the wacky employees not raced the sink-laden forklifts so much.
6 Comments:
You are a wonderful writer.
You are a tight ass kid. Thumbs ups buddy. You are too smart for Harvard. They should rename that school, Ashwood University. You can be Dean, your brother Head Master. I probably have many gramatical errors in this, sorry.
Angela agrees with Dylan and Eric. And Angela thinks that you should major in Etch-a-sketch-ing or senior art poster making (that was stephanie's idea).
I agree with Angela, Dylan, and Eric, and congratulations on your acceptance to Harvard!!!!!!
P.S.
Eric wants to know if you eat breakfast?
Do you remember magic clock?
You see, that's why we call it the "Home Despot."
-from Danny
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