Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Tick

I found a tick on my shoulder. He hadn’t bitten me yet, so I pinched him between two fingers and held him up for inspection. His black legs kicked and kicked. I thought I heard him say something, so I leaned in close and listened. Spare me, he said. His voice was very high-pitched because he was so small. Why me, God? he cried. Because you were trying to drink my blood, I said. You might be carrying lime disease, I can’t have that. The tick’s legs stopped kicking. I’m talking to God, he said. You’re fucking presumptuous, aren’t you?

SANTA CAWS

There was an accident at Santa’s Workshop. Santa’s mind was switched with a parrot's. The accident occurred while Santa was in his office. An elf came in to talk to him. We need to finalize the naughty list, said the elf. Finalize the list, said Santa. The elf didn’t know Santa had a parrot mind. Yes, said the elf. Finalize the list, said Santa. Me? the elf asked. Really? He was proud that Santa trusted him with such an important job. As for the parrot with Santa’s mind, it died quickly once exposed to the harsh terrain of the frozen north.

Cruise

A disaster on the mainland stranded them at sea. Some said it was zombies, which was doubtful. Anyway, something. They drifted. The ship’s entertainment was a magician. He preformed seven shows daily to keep the guests occupied. His best trick involved making a small dog vanish and reappear. After twenty-eight shows they cornered him and demanded his secret. No one will know, they said. I’ll know, he responded. We’ll die out here, they said. Die without knowing my secret, he declared. They tore him limb from limb, then ransacked his apartment, but they never found a clue. Or the dog.

Meanwhile, His Date Thought He'd Left Her

He was in a movie theater bathroom. After twenty minutes he called for help, but no one came. Would you? Run into a bathroom where a man was screaming? At twenty-five minutes he wondered where all this moisture could be coming from. The stream stayed steady, he’d missed the end of the movie. Perhaps he’d taken on the piss of the world. He was going for everyone. Productivity would skyrocket worldwide, and the theater bathroom would become a shrine where pilgrims would come beg for a chance to hold his dick while he slept. Piss on, he thought. Piss forever.

IN THE FUTURE MTV WILL SHOW NOTHING BUT CLOSE-UP SHOTS OF VAGINAS

The women will all be between the ages of seventeen and twenty-four, and there will be a ticker that runs at the bottom of the screen advertising video games and ring tones. At first, it will be faddish for celebrities to try and get their vaginas on the air. The executive who chooses the vaginas will receive gift baskets with photographs attached and endless pics via text. It’ll ruin his marriage. Eventually, people will start getting bored with nothing but tight close-ups of vaginas. This channel used to show butts, people will say. But then they went and sold out.

Scholarship

Scientists discovered a new virus that made people forget how to read. A news crew interviewed a Marlowe scholar in Florida who said, “I hear they’re calling it ‘The Internet.’ Another news crew interviewed a Shakespeare scholar in Boston who said, ‘I hear they’re calling it ‘Text Messaging.’ The two scholars knew each other, a little, and one called the other on the telephone. The Marlowe man said, Good line, very funny. The Shakespearean said, Thanks. There was a long pause. Anything else? asked the Marlowe man. Anything else you have to say? Yes, said the Shakespearean. Texting is funnier.

Speechwriter

I decided to become a speechwriter when I heard that the actress Rashida Jones was dating one. Speechwriting is easy. You just write, I believe this shit, we the people need that shit. I wrote up some samples and sent them out. A week later I heard back. No thanks, they said. The mayor would never refer to the economy as ‘Super fucked.’ I wrote back, If he doesn’t think the economy is super fucked, fuck him. I heard Rashida left the speechwriter. I don’t know what her new beau does, but I bet I can do that shit, too.

CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON

Immanuel Kant died, and was buried. A worm wound through his eyes and then back to the dirt, where it lived two more days before being caught by a fisherman. With this worm he caught a fish. He served the fish to his wife; that night they conceived a son. Generations later their descendant murdered Michael Jordan’s father in a robbery, seeking money to pay debts incurred betting against the Bulls. Captured, he fell in love with his cellmate, Barry—a descendant, incredibly, of Kant. Call me crazy, but I believe in destiny. How about I buy you a drink?

LET'S PROMISE WE'LL ALWAYS BE HONEST WITH ONE ANOTHER

We were in bed. She asked me what I was thinking. I was thinking that I wished I knew someone killed by terrorists on 9/11. How it would be a kind of super-power. You could do whatever you wanted to. Never wear socks or shoes, never wear a tie. Curse at people. Have sex with anyone, once they found out, because they’d be jealous of how close to the tragedy you were, and they’d want to get close to it, too. She asked again. I kissed the top of her head and answered, I was thinking your hair smells amazing.

ABOARD THE PEQUOD

Honestly, I spotted that white whale probably six times while I was on watch, and I never mentioned it once. I shut my eyes and pretended to be sleeping. If they caught me sleeping, I’d get the lash. If we fought that whale I’d be killed, or worse, maimed. I got a good look at that leg of his once—the flesh where the stump met the peg was always red and inflamed, and at sea it was always damp. My father was a surgeon, I’d seen people eaten away by infection. Ahab was a bastard, but bacteria is a motherfucker.

THE ASSASSIN

The assassin was bored with killing, with money, with life. He put a price on his own head—17 million to whoever took him down. They came for him in droves. He marveled at their youth and left them all in pieces. He wasn’t going to make it easy. One day he met a woman, friend-of-a-friend. She had thick ankles, mixed a great cocktail, and made him laugh. Life seemed good, for a while. Then he started wondering, what if she knew about the money? Suddenly, the drinks she mixed tasted funny. Her jokes cut too close to home.

A LIST OF ALL THE PLACES WE NEVER MADE LOVE

Your bedroom. Your car. Under the bleachers at a little league game. In your husband’s office. Between two green dumpsters behind a Burger King. My bedroom. In my kitchen, while my wife was taking a call in the other room. In your guestroom, while our kids had a play-date downstairs. The public restroom at the Gun Show, while people stood around outside the stall door, listening. At your husband’s funeral. In the hallway of the courthouse, before my arraignment. We never made love in any of those places, but to be fair, in a lot of those places we fucked.

The Spy

They took one of his molars and replaced it with a poison-filled fake. To be eaten in case of capture, they said. Try not to think about it. He asked, Do you know how many times a day I get punched in the face? They said, Try to avoid that. He said, I’ll have to sleep on my stomach so it doesn’t fall down my throat. Sleep normally, they said. I’ll have to give up on women, he said. My kiss could be deadly. They frowned. We’ve never seen you kiss, they said, but it sounds like you’re doing it wrong.