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.

Superpower

Terry was exposed to a mysterious meteorite, and it gave him a superpower—any woman he slept with became a genius. He discovered this when his wife, June, went from waitress to restaurateur in two months, and his mistress, Angela, stopped filling in crossword puzzles and started designing missile systems. He tried cashing in, advertising his service to college girls desperate for a good GPA. No one took him seriously. Worse, June and Angela left him. They didn’t find him charming anymore. His jokes fell flat. His promises all felt empty. There was no question that they could do better.

Note Under Windshield

I bashed in your bumper and your break lights. Sorry. I was pulling into the spot behind you and I noticed your bumper stickers and rammed you before I could stop myself. It wasn’t the political ones that set me off, for the record. I’m embarrassed to admit it was ‘Virginia is for Lovers.’ Haven’t seen many lovers around lately. Maybe you know where they’re hiding? Maybe it’s easier to find lovers in a Mercedes than a Ford Taurus. You’ll be looking for them via bicycle now. Maybe I shouldn’t be…is a note written on a napkin admissible in court?

Creation Myth 2

Bob was building. His neighbor saw him and asked what he was making. Bob said, I don’t know. I just like the way building makes me feel. The neighbor said, that’s no way to build something. It looks like a car. Add some wheels. So Bob added wheels. But there was still something off about it, so Bob added a windshield. That still felt wrong, so Bob started over. Make a car, he thought. But Bob couldn’t make a car that looked the way a car was supposed to. He didn’t know how. Suddenly, building made Bob feel awful.