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.