I am now imagining a reboot to the Mr. Ed franchise. Picture Mr. Ed as a horse detective who investigates murders.
His new theme song will be:
A corpse is a corpse, of course, of course…
Stories don’t have closing ceremonies!
The characters in the story I have been working on have been watching the Olympics, and now they want to stage a big closing ceremony. NO! I told them. NO. This is not that kind of story!
Ragnarök 2014
It’s Ragnarök, and Fenrir the wolf had just come by.
“Seen Odin?” he asked. I shook my head, and he moved on.
There was the sound of retching in the bathroom. It was Odin.
“That is the LAST time I do shots of aquavit with YOU, dude,” he said. “Hey, where are my pants? I know I had pants last night.”
“Fenrir came by, looking for you,” I told him.
“If he killed me right now, it would be a mercy killing,” Odin said. “Can you call him back?”
I was beginning to wonder about the wisdom of holding a Ragnarök party. For one thing, I didn’t expect the actual Norse gods to show up.
Disclaimers
A friend shared a course catalog with some interesting disclaimers for the courses being offered. It got me to thinking that I should probably include a disclaimer with my stories:
Warning: this story is intended solely for entertainment purposes. For external use only. Consumption may lead to vertigo, credulity, nausea, anxiety, and atavisms which may include but not be limited to growth of extra limbs or a tail. Do not read while operating heavy machinery.
A web site posting for the ages!
Watching the Olympics, and I am getting really tired of things being described as “a performance for the ages.” For mercy’s sake, FIND A NEW CLICHE, commentators. I beg you.
I am going to start describing EVERYTHING as being ‘for the ages.’ Tonight, I am going to sleep for the ages, then wake up and drink a cup of coffee for the ages.
If I am going to sleep for the ages, I’d better set an alarm clock, just in case.
Things that happen in the dark
I lay down and closed my eyes, only to feel eight feet on my legs. “Two cats,” I thought,”or an octopus.” I was hoping it was the former. If it was an octopus, I knew I would be getting no sleep tonight.
Déjà vu all over again
Jimmy Fallon starts as host of the Tonight Show tonight. And I know how the first show is going to open.
It’s dark. Someone reaches over and turns on a bedside light. It’s Jay Leno. He’s agitated. He says “Honey, wake up! You won’t believe the dream I just had!” There’s a groan from the other side of the bed. Leno: “Well, don’t you want to hear about it? I dreamed NBC replaced me as host, AGAIN!”
An arm reaches out and turns on the light on the other side of the bed. IT’S JIMMY FALLON, who says, “There, there. It’s all right. It’s just a bad dream. NBC was boneheaded enough to do that once. They wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that again.”
Leno, reluctantly: “I guess you’re right. Good night, Jimmy.”
“Good night, Jay,” Fallon replies, and they both turn out their bedside lights.
Pony up
An ad I just heard on the radio just used the phrase “pony up.”
I know what it means, but I don’t understand it. When was the last time a pony gave you money for anything? According to my horse-owning friends, the cash flow is always the other way.
Close enough.
I am going to write a story where the flawed but lovable victim of a mad scientist’s gene splicing experiment says “I’m sorry. I’m only sorta human.”
My NEXT next book
My next book will be about a Greek woman who drives taxi by day and trains for a marathon by night.
The title will be DEMETER IS RUNNING.