I was driving through town recently. I passed a high school and glanced down an alley behind the school. I saw this little kid getting ganged up on by these three bigger guys. It was getting bloody.
I pulled over immediately and grabbed a switchblade and brass knuckles from my glove compartment and a bat from the backseat and jumped out and raced to the fight.
I handed each of the weapons to the three guys. I just felt like watching, and they could help the guys get the job done a lot better.
The Death of Responsible Healthcare
Last year during the election, between the time of the conventions, I drove past a local hospital and saw some protestors. They had propped up a couple life-size figures of Death with scythes next to some signs reading, "Mourning the death of responsible healthcare."
That got me. So I went to the Republican convention in the twin cities and stood outside the Energy Center with the same kind of Death figures and signs reading the same message, except I crossed out healthcare and wrote politicians over it in red.
That caused a bit of a storm there. But not as big a storm if they learned the truth about me and Bristol. The dirty, dirty truth.
That got me. So I went to the Republican convention in the twin cities and stood outside the Energy Center with the same kind of Death figures and signs reading the same message, except I crossed out healthcare and wrote politicians over it in red.
That caused a bit of a storm there. But not as big a storm if they learned the truth about me and Bristol. The dirty, dirty truth.
The Creeper
I told a girl at a playground that a terrible monster lived beneath the sand. If he ever got you, his venomous teeth would sink deep within you and scar you with a horrible and painful toxin that would stay with you until the day you die. His name is The Creeper.
But she didn't believe me.
Later she was playing on the swings when she lost her grip and fell off. When she landed in the sand she got stuck with something: a dirty hypodermic needle. The doctors at the hospital told her the needle was contaminated and from it she contracted the human immunodeficiency virus, which would soon lead to AIDs.
I told her. My niece never listens to me.
But she didn't believe me.
Later she was playing on the swings when she lost her grip and fell off. When she landed in the sand she got stuck with something: a dirty hypodermic needle. The doctors at the hospital told her the needle was contaminated and from it she contracted the human immunodeficiency virus, which would soon lead to AIDs.
I told her. My niece never listens to me.
The Water Fountain, Part II
I eventually told my friend. He reacted as you'd imagine, with plenty of heaving and threats of letting his pitbull terrier rape Roxanne. I defended her; he should've had the good sense to not drink from a water fountain in a park, anyways.
Later I made quite a juicy three-pointer. He asked if I had to kiss the goose's ass to get that. I replied that maybe I did, but at least I didn't kiss a dog's ass.
Thinking about it, I regret telling him. We go to that park often; it could've been the gift that keeps on giving.
Later I made quite a juicy three-pointer. He asked if I had to kiss the goose's ass to get that. I replied that maybe I did, but at least I didn't kiss a dog's ass.
Thinking about it, I regret telling him. We go to that park often; it could've been the gift that keeps on giving.
The Water Fountain
I brought my friend over to a park near my house to play basketball. We'd brought some water but it soon ran out, so he went to get some from a fountain nearby.
A couple days earlier I was at the park by myself, practicing, and a man came to exercise a bit and play fetch with his dog, a female German Shepherd named Roxanne. Eventually he became thirsty and went to the same fountain, followed closely by his dog. After he helped himself, he just let her go to town, lapping up as much water as she could take, for at least two minutes. Later she got some more.
I should mention I saw her nibbling at one of the many dog turds lying around that place while her owner was stretching. Imagine what she does at home.
I remembered all this just before my friend bent his head down to the stream. I tried to warn him, but I was just too busy laughing.
A couple days earlier I was at the park by myself, practicing, and a man came to exercise a bit and play fetch with his dog, a female German Shepherd named Roxanne. Eventually he became thirsty and went to the same fountain, followed closely by his dog. After he helped himself, he just let her go to town, lapping up as much water as she could take, for at least two minutes. Later she got some more.
I should mention I saw her nibbling at one of the many dog turds lying around that place while her owner was stretching. Imagine what she does at home.
I remembered all this just before my friend bent his head down to the stream. I tried to warn him, but I was just too busy laughing.
The Pilot Script
I had written a script about a pilot. He screws up big-time during a flight and tries to make an emergency landing in a river but fails and crash lands into a school for disabled children.
Miracuously, the pilot is among the few to survive, but he is vilified throughout the country when the blackbox recordings reveal him to be an inept coward who could've clearly saved the flight (nearly 100 were killed) had he not panicked so completely.
In a second-act twist, the pilot tries to redeem himself by lying that birds flew into the engines and caused the crash, but this backfires when the cause of the crash (the source of his panic) is officially found to be a torn fuselage and not engine-related.
True to form, the story ends with the pilot attempting to hang himself in his jail cell but once again failing. The press mock him ruthlessly for being too incompetent to even tie a noose.
Well. I certainly can't sell that now.
Miracuously, the pilot is among the few to survive, but he is vilified throughout the country when the blackbox recordings reveal him to be an inept coward who could've clearly saved the flight (nearly 100 were killed) had he not panicked so completely.
In a second-act twist, the pilot tries to redeem himself by lying that birds flew into the engines and caused the crash, but this backfires when the cause of the crash (the source of his panic) is officially found to be a torn fuselage and not engine-related.
True to form, the story ends with the pilot attempting to hang himself in his jail cell but once again failing. The press mock him ruthlessly for being too incompetent to even tie a noose.
Well. I certainly can't sell that now.
The Medical Contribution
I was at a party the other night. I was really hammered, so I decided to not risk driving home.
Don't get me wrong...I usually do it all the time. But recently there's been this cop hanging around my neighborhood with a hard-on for drivers who like to hit the sauce before they hit the road. So I found this stray cat, glued it's paws to the steering wheel, laid a cinder-block on the pedal, and stretched out in the back.
It had gone pretty far before it was pulled over; strangely, we weren't that far from my place. It had almost gotten off with a warning until that pussy decided to mouth off and get us both arrested...at least, that's what I remember.
Anyways, they brought me before the judge, and he said he would drop the matter if I used my family's money to contribute to a medical organization. Obviously, I went with that idea. So I went by Target and bought a dozen or so vacuum cleaners and donated them to the local women's clinic. I figured they could always use em.
Don't get me wrong...I usually do it all the time. But recently there's been this cop hanging around my neighborhood with a hard-on for drivers who like to hit the sauce before they hit the road. So I found this stray cat, glued it's paws to the steering wheel, laid a cinder-block on the pedal, and stretched out in the back.
It had gone pretty far before it was pulled over; strangely, we weren't that far from my place. It had almost gotten off with a warning until that pussy decided to mouth off and get us both arrested...at least, that's what I remember.
Anyways, they brought me before the judge, and he said he would drop the matter if I used my family's money to contribute to a medical organization. Obviously, I went with that idea. So I went by Target and bought a dozen or so vacuum cleaners and donated them to the local women's clinic. I figured they could always use em.
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