Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Blasted Femur

God can be such a shit. Seriously. Where is the parental intervention? When my kid busts a toy or rips a page out of his book, he gets put in a timeout. This dude summons tidal waves and giggles. Ooh, I'm gonna watch a virus wipe out a whole continent and I'm gonna let superstition and ignorance be the main coping mechanism!

Cause and effect means that somewhere the parents of this God are watching. And doing nothing. Are they celestial heroin addicts? What the hell are they doing while their kid toys with a whole planet?

I used to deny the existence of God but now I feel that we as a race must collectively spank the little shit and send him into his room. If we all meditate on it, I think we can make him cry and shame him into taking a little better care of his toys.

Monday, July 30, 2007


She rolled over, struggling with an angry pillow, tried to kill her alarm clock and knocked a lamp to the floor. She stubbed her toe on the little table outside of her bathroom that she displayed magazines on. After the inevitable shaving mishap and the strange lotion put on the toothbrush, she took one bite of an impossibly stale croissant before throwing her hands up and refusing to continue with her day.

Back in front of the bathroom mirror, an idea struck her...

So simple she was surprised she hadn't thought of it before. Her synapses buzzed with the beauty of it and she could already feel her cells rejoicing. The side of her neck began to pulse and she felt a small flicker of joy down below. No time to waste, or so they say.

That surge of energy began to channel itself madly throughout her system. The transformation was immediate and significant. Her hair began to elongate and flatten, her harms tightened and shrank. Her legs burrowed into the tile.

When her rent was late, the landlord sent eviction notices. Getting no reply, he went through with the eviction and hired movers to bring her belongings to Good Will. He'd been in the bathroom when he got back to his desk. 4 messages in the last 2 minutes from the moving crew. Great, had she barricaded herself inside, refusing to budge?

"Yeah, Mr. Banks, we got all the furniture out but you're gonna wanna come check out the bathroom before you try to rent this place. There's a tree in there."