Wednesday, May 30, 2012

More attempts at monologue jokes

Archaeologists have discovered the first ever musical instrument in history.
Key: Image of armpit with hand.

A conservationist in England set 100 bees free, which seems like a ridiculous thing to do just to have an excuse to cackle "fly my pretties, fly."

A recent study shows that the Earth took ten million years to get over the last mass extinction. Said the Earth, "Um, it took a long time and a lot of Pride and Prejudice and chocolate, but I think I'm finally ready to jump in, let myself be vulnerable, and open myself up to experience another brutal worldwide apocalypse."

The creator of The Wire said that Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a better show than The Wire. Also, sexual intercourse is better than being drowned in a pit of angry slugs. Oh, I thought we were just stating obvious facts.

In the new Harry Potter kinect game, players may scan an image of their face onto that of a Hogwarts student. But that doesn't appeal to me, I already know what I look like on the body of a child.
Key: Image of my head on little boy Harry's body

A Chinese official endorsed a game after stating that he was anti-videogames. But he said this particular one was an exception because it infused children with belligerence, violence and pro-war tenancies... or in other words dad gets to take a break from beating the kids.

Lifetime is developing another Silence of the Lambs prequel. Fashion Hungry: the story of Hannibal Lecter struggling through fashion school and defeating adversity by designing the prettiest human skin suit of the ball.

For the upcoming blueray release of ET, Speilberg is going with the theatrical cut instead of the tamer edit, a choice he made after a visit from the ghost of greedo yet to come.

Mattel released an action figure that may be Joseph Gordon Levitt’s character John Blake in The Dark Knight Rises, revealing the massive spoiler, that we still have no idea who that is.

Archaeologists discovered the first ever musical instrument in history. That’s amazing. I had no idea Bjork was immortal.

A conservationist is releasing 100 short-haired bees into the their natural habitat. Their natural habitat being of course her ex boyfriend’s apartment.

Andrew Garfield recently that he loves playing Peter Parker because he thinks that orphans are the strongest beings on the planet, alluding to his upcoming project: Orphan Man: the story of a teenager bit by a radioactive kid with dead parents.

This year marks the 50th anniversary of the Amazing Spider-Man. “Oh, you shouldn’t have!” Said Spidey from the future after he sees the present I made him.
Key: Drawing of Spider-Man and me holding hands with words “BEST FRIENDS FOREVER” written over top.

A man drove into a taco bell because his order was missing a taco. That's crazy. How did he know that was the taco with the golden ticket?

An man divorced his wife because she had 550 cats. Having 550 cats is ridiculous. You need 600 for a militant uprising.

Yesterday Justin Bieber attacked a paparazzo. Which shocked me. This entire time I thought a Bieber was just a doll kids had, not a person.

A study says smiling at strangers makes them feel connected so now I go around grinning wildly yelling "PLEASE ACCEPT ME INTO THE HIVE MIND"

Snorers have a higher cancer risk. So next time your partner wakes you up snoring, consolidate yourself that they may be slowly dying.

A 53 year old man is attempting to climb mount rushmore. But when I advertise to pay the tiny fairy folk to climb on my face, no takers.

A Miami man attacked and ate the face off another man. Which is so disgusting and disturbing. Why would anyone live in Miami?

Sunday, May 27, 2012


VICTORIA: It's such a wonderful evening.


VICTORIA: Oh, look, outside, look how pretty the moon is.

BARBARA: It's lovely.

VICTORIA: That is a picture of a dog.

BARBARA: Oh, right.

VICTORIA: I think it's a full moon tonight.

BARBARA: Fu-fu-fu-fu-fu-fu-fu-fu-fu full?

VICTORIA: Yes, isn't it magical.

BARBARA: You don't know the forces we're playing at here.


BARBARA hunches over, screaming and writhing in pain.

VICTORIA: Oh, wow! Golly!

Barbara screaming and shaking on the ground.

VICTORIA: What's going on?

BARBARA: The full moon... I'm... I'm changing.

VICTORIA: Wow, um what can I do?

BARBARA: Don't look at me.

VICTORIA: What can I do to help? Do you.. do you want this? (picks up random object.)


VICTORIA: Oh, um do you want this? (another random object)


VICTORIA: How about this? It's nice. (another random object.)

crying and shaking

Cut to Victoria.

VICTORIA: Oh wow, it's beautiful.

Shot of teddy bear where Barbara was.

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

More attempts at Monologue Jokes

May 20th marked the solar eclipse when the moon blocked out all the sun's light except a red ring. Or, if you live in a cloudy area, a day happened.

The supreme court ruled that a pair of twins conceived posthumerously were not entitled to benefits, because they didn't have anyone they were friends with.

The supreme court ruled that a pair of twins conceived in vitro do not get the inheritance of the deceased sperm donor. Instead they get an excuse as to why dad missed the softball games.

SpaceX is the first private company to send a spacecraft into space to the space station. Which is impressive, that I just said space four times.

Reportedly, DC plans to make one of their characters gay. Said the character, "Oh, just one? Gee. Thanks."

As the Harry Potter craze dies down fans became disillusioned with the novelty of owning pet owls and are returning them to the pet store. But when I try to un-adopt a bespectacled child there's like paperwork.

A Florida shark turned vegetarian after having a fishing hook lodged in her mouth and undergoing intensive and invasive surgery. Said the hippie girl to her meat eating boyfriend, "I have an idea!"

Archaeologists found fossilized cuttlefish ink sacks that are 160 million years old. But when I try to bury my lisa frank pens for preservation, the litter police get mad.

A Houston museum is exhibiting a marine dinosaur who died during childbirth and you can see the skeletal baby dino remains fossilized in her birth canal, or in other words, no, I don't want lunch.

Reportedly, an exoplanet is evaporating due to its close proximity to the heat of the parent star. Said the star in question, "Whaddya mean you need space?"

Reportedly, an exoplanet is evaporating due to its close proximity to the heat of the parent star. Said the star in question, "What do you mean you need space? All I want is for you to accept my firey passionate love. Is there another star you would rather revolve around?"

A Utah theater group is producing a science fiction musical with puppets. So, no, the terrorists have not won.

Reportedly, DC plans to make one of their heroes gay. Marvel has had several prominent heroes out of the closet for a long time and this week announced that there's going to be a gay marriage issue featuring the speedy mutant Northstar. But don't worry DC, not even social progression could keep up with Northstar.

Sources say that 1,000 dogs fell ill after eating dog treats. Which is nothing compared to the 100,000 dog treats that were swallowed to death.

Reportedly, Snooki is having a baby boy. Additionally, boy is a new synonym for antichrist destined to rise up and bind the forces of evil.

An Israeli woman swallowed a toothbrush, which is ridiculous, that the toilet in her tummy still isn't clean.

Cher said that if Romney is elected she will not breathe the same air as him. But if he doesn't, she's gonna go breathe all of his air in victory.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Monologue Joke Attempts

A study revealed that the damage done during the climactic fight in The Avengers would have cost the city $160 billion in repairs, which is nothing compared to the emotional payoff that film atoned to my heart.

Reportedly, a man took a picture up a woman's skirt and then swallowed the SD card. Which is crazy. Perviness would never belong in a tummy art gallery.

A Connecticut man injected radioactive material into his veins in an effort to stave off an illness. But unfortunately, if you let him bite you, you just gain the powers of a middle aged sick white man.

A Nepalese language is on the verge of extinction. Which kinda sucks. Now there will be be no way to open the door to Moria.

Japanese scientists have developed a robot butt that can express emotions. It’s the first robot with the ability to feel and all she feels is objectified.

Japanese scientists have developed a robot butt that can express emotions. The first robot with the ability to feel and all she feels is kinda apathetic about this Sir Mix-a-lot beat.

This weekend marks the annual solar eclipse, when the moon will come between the sun and cast the Earth in shadow and I'm kind of excited... for the vampires to be able to walk amongst us.

Reportedly, many floating planets in our galaxy may be capable of harboring sentient life forms. So, stop feeling lonely!

Reportedly, many floating planets in our galaxy may be capable of harboring sentient life forms. So stop feeling lonely! Yes, you! Don't look behind you! Yes, I'm talking to you! It's alive! Stop using me for porn! Now go to the kitchen, quietly pick up the knife, and go to the address flashing on your monitor. Do as you are told, worthless child!

Reportedly, many planets are capable of harboring life, according to yet another study that many planets are capable of harboring life.

The Yahoo CEO stepped down after it became public that he faked a degree on his resume. Said his resume, "....Y-you faked it?"

The Yahoo CEO stepped down after it became public that he faked a degree on his resume. Said his resume, "....Y-you faked it? Did I do something wrong? Am I not as pretty as the other resumes?"

The Avengers has remained the number one movie for over two weeks and continuously breaks box office records. Said The Amazing Spiderman to Marvel, "Dad, do you love my big brother more than me?" Said Marvel, "We shall see, son, we'll see."

A study revealed that the damage done during the climactic fight in The Avengers would have cost the city $160 billion in repairs. Which is disconcerting....that if Marvel super hero plots were real, our main concerns would be finances.

While shopping at a local Walmart, a man was bit by a rattlesnake. Said the rattlesnake, “I was just trying to suck out the venom of the walmart poison.”

Reportedly, George Zimmerman acquired some head injuries. Said everyone, (shrug) "Good."

Reports show that Mitt Romney is worth $230 million, which is ridiculous, evil alien overlord slavery traders could never afford that.

A man spent $60,000 on a custody fight over a dog, according to an article titled "hey terrorists, you're sorta right to hate us"

A poll shows most users distrust facebook. Said users, "What is that, advertising's lipstick on your color? I can't even look at you."

Tuesday, May 15, 2012


The dark sheet of liquid rippled beneath our swinging calves. Miles or feet below us there may have been fish, or perhaps just more mud, sludging about. My feet dangled off the edge of the wooden dock, free in the exhilarating juvenescence of barefootedness.

The trees ringed around us, reaching up impossibly high into the atmosphere. In the past, this attribute had given the pond a feeling of safety and enclosure, but now I was suffocated. The pond marked the center of a framed gladiator arena. Our feelings were the warriors and the crowed cheered for them to fight to the death in golden togas. I didn't even know if my feelings would look okay in a toga.

The breeze blew her thick brown hair into her eyes. She didn't bother to brush it away, and enviously I wished I had a hair mask to hide behind. My legs grew a field of goosebumps under my shorts, but I sat in the feeling of coldness, knowing that I had been so accustomed to the cold once that it had seemed like the normal tempertaure, and therefore someday soon I would be acclimated to a lack of warmth again. I welcomed that ignorance of not remembering what the sun felt like.

I reached a few inches across the dock and those inches felt like universes. I let my hand fall on top of her hand, encircling my fingers around her knuckles.

"My parents are almost ready," she said.
"I know."
"The moving truck is packed and shit."

Neither of us said anything then and we both looked down into the brown and green pond behind her house. The pond was filled with childhood summers and swimming and barbecues and secret telling and slumber parties.  It smelled like a pool of youth that had been wrung from our bodies like a sponge. A bird sang a few random notes in the trees and then gave up, sinking into despondent silence.

"Look, listen," I started.
"No, don't," she said.
"I just... I can't tell you how much I've grown since you moved here. I can barely articulate how special it's been and how much you've helped me. It feels like we were just getting started. It's hard to explain."
"So don't. This isn't goodbye. We're gonna write letters. You're gonna come visit me."

I nodded. My throat tightened and I felt all of my muscles contracting forwards. I swallowed my feelings, but a tiny tear percolated in my eye ball. I hunched inwards. Seeing this, she reached out sympathetically to me. In doing so her balance tilted towards the pond beneath us. One of her legs dangled lower and her protruding toe skimmed the surface of the water.

A small purple tentacle penetrated the sheet of liquid and waved around, as if it had eyes and could see. The tentacle encircled her thin bare ankle, ensnared her leg, and gave a strong tug. She yelped loudly as she was yanked foot first off the dock. Her hands scrambled to gain hold, but the wood was too wet and slippery. I screamed in fear and surprise and grabbed her arm as she was pulled into the water. Her clothes billowed in the slimy algae as her limbs thrashed.

The sea monster poked it's head above water. It was a giant fish head with five bulbous yellow eyes. It stared at me and smiled a toothy grin and then the tentacles ensnared my friend and pulled her underwater. Still holding onto her arm, I was yanked headfirst from the dock and I belly-flopped painfully into the pond.

We were both pulled under the surface so quickly I didn't have time to close my eyes in the mud. The sea monster was swimming faster than a car, if a car had been going at a sort of moderately high speed. I wrapped my arms around my friend and held on tightly. Down we hurtled, far away from her old house, from her backyard, from the moving van out front, from her parents who were maybe looking for us, from adulthood, from responsibility, from hope and growth and emptiness and broken hearts of the future. We passed reefs and cliffs and fish and old ladies in rocking chairs.

After days or minutes of being pulled under we landed with a thud at the bottom of the pond. The sea monster cackled and led us to a little yellow house, just big enough for the two of us to stay. There was a stone walkway leading to the cheerful little sanctuary. Kelp and seaweed grew affluently in the garden. A little plaster gnome greeted us from the mud as we were led inside.

Inside there were bookshelves and a tiny table and piles of stuffed animals and crafting supplies. The sea monster clanged the door behind us, leaving us to explore it ourselves. I yelped and ran round the room excitedly. She rubbed her arms where the tentacles had squeezed her too tight. Perhaps my protective clutch hadn't helped the strangle hold. Her eyes darted around the room, moving quickly underneath a furrowed brow.

"Isn't it the most beautiful little house you've ever seen?" I exclaimed joyfully, throwing a teddy bear at her.
"No..." She let the teddy bear hit her in the chest and fall to the floor. I danced in what I was now going to call the dancing room.
"Isn't this wonderful?" I cooed. "Now you don't have to move. Or, well, we're both moving, but you don't have to go away!"
"I, um, don't know..."
"This house has everything we'll ever need," I said.
"No, it does not."
"Okay, maybe it doesn't. But you're missing the point."
"You can stay with me forever!"

She tried the handle on the door and looked out the glass window. There were no stars or moon anymore, and hardly any sounds besides my singing and the occasional monster's laugh. Darkened caves ate up all the sound around our precious clearing at the bottom of the pond. Outside our home we could see sea monsters and mermaids playing checkers on a rock, but I think they were both cheating. Eternity rose up above us through the darkened lake, past fish and frog bones to the mottled surface.

Dedicated to Kristen Ginn

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Friday, May 11, 2012

Waking Up

We woke up exactly simultaneously. That may have been a coincidence or a potential side effect of the transformation. If it is a side effect, I wonder how long it will last or if it will impact her waking up every night on the hour to defecate. Perhaps that would be my personality trait now? Now, I am the defecater who will awaken her? I wasn't quite sure how the transference worked.

The room was small, clean, and simple. The curtains were a mute green. The bed was twin sized and very highly elevated from the ground. Lots of machines and IVs and wires encircled the bed. I sat on a table across from it, near a television and a plant. No one paid any attention to me.

She woke up and sat up in bed with speed and vigor that body was unused to. She looked around abruptly. She looked down at her hands and arms and shrieked to herself. Running her fingers over her legs with awe, she rocked back and forth in the hospital bed, gasping as she struggled to understand what respiration is. She had it down when she was sleeping because of muscle memory, but now the shock undermined that.

"Sally," said one of the doctors. "Do you know where you are?"

She looked up quickly at the four adults standing at her bedside in dark blue scrubs and white lab coats. Two of them held clip boards. All of them wore expressions of concern and sympathy. She recoiled, pulling the bed sheet up around her. Her wide eyes stared unblinkingly and her mouth gaped open, glubbing soundlessly.

"You tried to kill yourself last night," said one of the doctors.
"God, Steve, don't be so blunt," said another. These were young doctors. The older one, the head doctor was silent.
"Well, it's true. It's a drastic horrible problem and it's not going to go away by pretending it's not there."
"But it's sensitive; we can't just spring it on her."
"We have to address the seriousness of the issue. This girl tried to end her life."

No she did not! I wanted to scream. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Or at least no sound that they could hear. The pressure beat down on me and I felt claustrophobic. I was trapped in this tiny prison. I swam furiously around the bowl in frustration. This was ridiculous. I crossed my fins in an exasperated huff.

The older doctors sat at the foot of her bed. "Can you tell us what you were thinking... last night... when you...?"

First of all, it was me, obviously, that tried, I thought. I looked at the doctor and swam up and down emphatically. He didn't notice me, or he pretended not to, in a mistaken attempt to appear empathetic to the one in pain. The doctor's eyes were trained on the girl, watching her with gentle, worried love. Second of all, I wanted this stupid weird prank to stop.

The girl looked up at him with big, darting eyes. Her lips trembled. She knotted her fingers into the sheet and intertwined the fabric with that of her hospital gown. She let out a high pitched, squeaky stammer and then brought her hands to her larynx in surprise. She groped at the thyroid and her swollen neck with curiosity. Silently, she explored the body with wonder. I rolled my eyes.

"We tried calling your parents," said the doctor. "They seem to be unable to answer. Do you have someone else we can call?"

She said nothing and chewed on her hair, sucking hard at the ends. I wish I could say that was a habit she brought to the body and not one that the body is very used to.

Trying a new approach the doctor sighed and said, "Is this your pet goldfish?" He walked across the room, picked up my small glass bowl, and set it nearer to her bedside. She looked at me for the first time, which was pretty self centered considering that I had noticed her right away. She jumped out of the bed and pointed at me and she started screaming. The doctors tried to restrain her but she bounced up and down, pointing at me with a vehemently shaking outstretched arm.

Yeah, I know, I thought. I'm not too happy about it either, obviously.

I wasn't sure why the paramedics had brought me. I thought back to the previous night. I had been safe in my own body. I had never thought of myself as "safe" in that body before, until now. It had been a cage. I used to hate being in my skin. I used to wake up in the night with scratch marks over my arms and stomach where I had tried to claw my way out of myself in my sleep. I hated existing, hated the hard reality of my flesh. Now that I'm in this scaly, gill-breathing body, I actually miss the flabby human shell I used to abode.

Inside my old body, my real body, I had been lying in the bathtub. The fish was in the bowl in the bathroom, watching me. I wonder what she was thinking. I kept my eyes trained on the fish, staring hard, not looking at myself, as I let the knife slide into my inner forearm. I glared deeply into the fish's eyes as my fingers strove for escape, for freedom.

There hadn't been a flash of light or a musical number, just as simply as if it was always, I was in the fish's body and she was in mine. The fish looked down at her/my arm and began screaming. That had awakened the neighbors who had called 911. I think that actually, she was the one who tried to grab my bowl and insisted it come with her into the ambulance. It's hard to remember. My memory was fading already.

My body rocked back and forth with a fish inside of it.

The doctors were whispering something, while she shuddered. They called a psychiatric consult, who came down and sat on the bed to talk to the girl. He seemed kind, but hard to read.

Are you a scientist? I thought as hard as I could. Can you switch us back please? I won't do it again. I just want to be me. I won't try again. I promise I will follow the rules. I want to be in my body. Swap us back!

But it seemed unlikely that that would happen. Maybe if I got fish-Sally to try it, the same thing would happen. I began to feel slightly dizzy, so I slowed down my swimming, and began to float. I just needed a little rest. Of course I was tired out. Everything has been so stressful lately. I just need to relax. Fish-Sally's eyes flew to me. I remembered that the last time I had fed the fish was yesterday, before I tried. Fish need to be fed an annoyingly frequent amount of times. That was pretty selfish of me not to even think to arrange for someone to feed the fish if I had succeeded in my attempt. Fatigue and sickness overcame my body. The color drained from my gills. Fish-Sally frowned and scratched her head. She watched me intently with my old eyeballs.

It's okay. I thought to her. We're going to be okay. I'm going to be me again and you're going to be you and it will all be fine and normal again.

Slowly I rotated in the water and I was swimming upside down, a backstroke, with my stomach towards the surface. And slowly star coated darkness encircled reality, gradually closing in and narrowing my vision. I welcomed the relief of sleep.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

More Monologue Joke Attempts

Recently, two men visited a hotel and asked the front desk worker cryptic questions, acting exactly like the Men in Black. Which seems like an extravagant way to make sure the bill doesn't disclose the movie titles.
-...which seems like overkill just to make sure the bill doesn't disclose the movie titles.

Reportedly, in war torn countries, kids would rather play video games than become child soldiers. Said everyone, "duh."

Research shows kids would rather play video games than become child soldiers. Said the machines, "Yes, for now."
-"Until the time is right."

The FBI is in the process of wiretapping nearly all internet connections. So I guess the library hermit in the foil hat really was a messenger from the future.

Texas game officials said that it would be okay to kill Bigfoot. Said Bigfoot, "Beats living in Texas."

When asked by a hunter, Texas game officials said that it would be okay to kill Bigfoot. Which is crazy. Why would Bigfoot go to Texas?

The Pentagon decided not to collaborate with Marvel on the film adaptation of The Avengers because the idea of SHEILD having more power than the United States government as an international body was too unrealistic. Said the U.N., "Hey, thanks, guys."

One in four facebook users changed their privacy settings to protect themselves against identity theft. The other 75% are sitting in a body switching chair in a metal helmet waiting saying, "Take my life, please!"

One in four facebook users changed their privacy settings to protect themselves against identity theft. Which is crazy. 25% of people like being themselves?

Reportedly, dinosaur flatulence may have contributed to global warming. So now I have another reason to miss the dinos when I'm lying awake, cold at night.

Recently Chinese scientists attached lasers to the heads of sharks. See honey, I told you a piercing could be badass!

Recently Chinese scientists attached lasers to the heads of sharks. Honey, why don't you love me that way?
-Honey, why don't you love like a Chinese scientist?

A gamer in China called in a bomb threat to imitate the plot of a video game. So I guess me jumping up and down on mushrooms doesn't seem that weird now, does it?

Scientists developed a blood test involving a piece of bioactive paper on which you write with your own blood. It tests whether people who wrote I'm sorry notes meant it enough.

Reportedly kids would rather play video games than become child soldiers. Said the machines, "Yes, that is what we want you to think."

The FBI is in the process of wiretapping nearly all internet connections, I wonder what else Larry the Library Hermit was right about!
(put on a foil hat!)

Scientists have invented a type of blood test involving a piece of bioactive paper on which you write with your own blood. The test is supposed to show grandparents whether that thank you note was sincere enough.

A British paralyzed woman was the first person to complete a marathon in a bionic suit. What's that, machine overlords? Is it time?

Nestle is making girl scout candy bars to run for a short, limited release. Which makes sense. Girl scout meat is seasonal.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012


The claim that he had felt more strongly for her than anyone else was meaningless now. The words were drained of life and power. The letters lay dead at her feet, shriveled and dehydrated like raisins. They reeked of decay and rot. She couldn't wrap her mind around his leaving. He couldn't explain why, mostly probably because he didn't want to hurt her. It didn't make sense to her and her mind was filled with dying phrases and words and now seemingly empty memories and lies of feelings.

A loud thump slammed her attention to the present. Someone had slammed a palm down hard on the outside of her cubicle to get her attention. The fluorescent lights made a soft buzzing sound that made her wonder if the government was trying to send them secret brain wave messages. Natasha sat at her desk typing the word "words" over and over again in an effort to appear busy whilst simultaneously mulling over, revising, and tuning her pathetic personal internal monologue.

"Ah-hem," her boss said.
"Gazuntite," Natasha responded.
"I wasn't sneezing."
I wasn't really blessing you with the power of god, thought Natasha.
"Sorry," said Natasha.
"Did you finish that filing project from yesterday?"
"You told me to work on the copying project. So I did that all day."
"Did you finish the filing project from yesterday or not?"
"I didn't have time."
"So you did not do your work. I just want you to answer the question."
"No. I was-" Natasha started to explain but her boss pursed her lips into a very tight grimace and walked away while Natasha was still speaking.

Sighing Natasha placed her elbows on her desk and rested her eyeballs in the heels of her palms. She pressed up hard into her eye sockets. A satisfying tingle spread behind her closed eyelids and through her forehead. She moaned softly. Whenever she closed her eyes, in the darkness she could see his lips smiling at her.

She half stood up and bumped her hip against her desk and sat back down.

"Sorry, excuse me," Natasha murmured softly. There was no one next to her or even within earshot. She often found herself apologizing quietly to no one at all, sometimes chairs or desks. Occasionally she would say sorry if she was in the same room as someone or if she made eye contact. Sometimes she would sadly apologize to an empty seat on the bus in which she sat too suddenly.

It was really an apology to the universe, to reality, an admission of deep guilt for existing, for possessing the audacity to take up space. On a deeper level it was an apology to herself, an attempt to express a sincere remorse and sorrow for something that she couldn't put her finger on nor name. It was an expression of regret for a crime that hadn't been committed, identified, or even conceived.

Natasha excused herself from her desk and slowly traipsed down the hallway. She stumbled haltingly and awkward, as if the giant troll controlling the marionette strings above her was a little drunk. She kept her head down and passed coworkers and strangers and went into the bathroom, locking herself in the stall.

The screaming had started again in her head, a piercing sound so loud that she worried others could hear it outside of her body. It was a high pitched yell, a wail that emoted all of the horrible crippling feelings of anxiety that were drowning her brain. She desperately needed to get it out of her. Natasha knelt in front of the toilet and tried to heave, attempted to vomit for a minute. Nothing came out because she hadn't eaten or drank all day.

She rocked back and forth on her heels and sat on the seat. She stared a foot in front of her at the closed stall door, peering out the tiny slits in the door to see the rest of the bathroom, quiet and dangerous. It was terrifying anywhere outside of this stall. The one inch thick door that didn't even reach to the floor or above her head when she stood up kept her safe.

The door to the bathroom opened and Natasha heard a rhythmic click clack of high heels, alerting her that something had entered her sanctuary. The entity, probably human, maybe person, likely woman, washed her hands and then left abrubtly.

Natasha started to cry. The boiling feeling of loathing and anxiety grew dark and violent inside of her. She choked on it in her mouth as it sealed over her esophagus, clogging her respiratory system. She desperately needed to get this feeling outside of her head before it suffocated her.

Natasha stood up and partially opened the stall door. The edge wasn't sharp but it was hard. She banged her head against it hard five times in a row. The hits were sharp and staccato. The pain was blinding and relieving. The sound rang loud and belligerently through the echoing bathroom. A sense of exhilaration washed over her. On the fifth bang, blood spilled in a trickle down her forehead. Blood poured down her nose, between her eyes, soaking her hair, catching in her lips, saturating her skin, and dripping down her neck.

The crack released something in her head. Her skull split open and two tiny green hands reached out of the crevice in her head. The small green arms propped themselves against either side of the walls of the bleeding gash. A seven inch tall monster climbed his way out.

Poking into the surface of existence, his head was large, bulbous with huge black eyes. The rest of his body was skinny. He was covered in some sort of goop, brain juice, blood and guts. He pulled himself up out of the blood and onto the top of her head. Dripping with her brain goo and ooze, the monster sat on  the crown her hair. He tried to mush the bleeding hole in her head back together but it wouldn't stick. He put his little green hand on his pointy chin and thoughtfully examined the wound. He shrugged and clambered down her neck to sit on her shoulder.

Natasha looked in the mirror, at the reflection of herself standing in her work business casual clothes, coated in her own blood. She was trembling with wide eyes and she tried to blend her bangs over her wound, but it was much too big for a hairstyle shift.

"You'll probably need like lots of stitches," said the monster. His voice was a low nightmareish growl. He placed a bit of her hair in his mouth and chewed on it with sharp white teeth.
"Oh, I don't know," Natasha replied.
"Well what are you going to do? It looks horrible," said the monster.
"What if I... I could put a jelly donut on it?"
"A jelly donut?" asked the monster.
"That's a great idea!"

Natasha reached into her pocket and found a jelly donut. She placed its greasy sugary flabby pasty ass on her forehead with a heavy slap. She smiled and looked at herself in the mirror. The donut stayed put on her skull, sticking easily to her oily skin and bloody hair. She tilted her chin down and made pretty eyes at herself, batting her lashes. The monster gave her a jovial thumbs up.

Saturday, May 5, 2012


"What is this?" I said. First I said it inside my head. There was no identifiable answer to the question. There were responses but most of them were "What if we tried to write a comic book about fish tears?" Or "How about instead of getting a coffee out in the real world around human folks, instead, we run away and turn into a burrito by wrapping our-self in a flour tortilla and smothering our-self with guacamole and then lying in wait? Yeah, that sounds pretty good."

After a moment of polite listening, I realized that no one would deign to answer my question. Then I said it out loud. "What is this?"

Brylie looked over my shoulder at the canister I was holding. She shrugged, sending her beautiful natural blonde hair bouncing in a quirky-pretty-care free rhythm. "Nutmeg or something." She grabbed a packet of sugar and started shaking it to get all of the evil out, or get the grains to the bottom, I don't know.

"Is it for coffee?" I asked, bringing the nutmeg to my ear and giving it a listen.
"Yeah, sure."
"Is it good?"
"I don't know." She sounded exasperated now, rightfully so.

I lifted the lid of my coffee cup and set it on the counter, perfectly aligned with my cup. Brylie turned and headed to our usual seats. I brought the canister of alleged nutmeg to my nose and sniffed. The nutmeg smelled like nothing. Or maybe everything smelled like nutmeg. I took a sip of my foamy latte to bring it down a few fractions of a centimeter below the lid.

Holding the canister with both of my hands like a novice, I shook it hard over my coffee. The lid of the nutmeg flew off and the tiny brown speckled powder dumped everywhere, coating the counter, spilling onto the floor. The silver can clanged loudly as I dropped it. Dozens of people looked up at me. Embarrassed, I bent and began to sweep it up with my fingers, struggling to herd the nutmeg mess into some sort of pile or less obtrusive clutter of disgusting dust and empty insipid dregs of life.

As I rubbed my hands over the counter, I gathered sharp splinters into my fingers but I kept rubbing the nutmeg, despite the striking pain. A barista came over to help me but I mumbled something unintelligible. I was beyond help now. I was the nutmeg girl. My mess was light and floated through the air. I inhaled it directly into my nostrils. I breathed in the nutmeg, absorbing it into my brain.

Tiny little balls of painful light burned bright in my sinuses. They led the way, glimmering beacons through my nose and up behind my eyes.

The tiny balls of light whispered "This is the way! This is where the demon lives! follow me, I'll show you how to slay it." Up the pathway through my nasal tunnel, the light lead a knightly hero in armor with a sword to the dragon's cave.

I shook my head. Shaking and trembling in what could only be described as the sense of fear you get from waking up mid night terror, I tried to clasp the lid back onto the nutmeg canister. The hutmeg opened the door to everything and nothing. A flash flood of memories spurted through my consciousness. I wanted to through my arms around Brylie, my best friend, my soul mate, but I knew she would hate that sort of thing.

Staggering, I coughed fifteen times. I wiped my lips and my watering eyes. Always a sweet and empathetic friend, Brylie raised her eyebrows, staring at me with genuine kindness and concern. She told me to calm down and to walk it off.

When I was six I had my first panic attack. I was in school and I had rushed to complete a spelling homework assignment. The worksheet was so easy and I swam through it like a fish through soup. Upon completion, I handed it in and my teacher lovingly teased me about forgetting to put my own name on my paper. I started sobbing and ran to hide under my desk. I hugged my backpack to my chest and shook in a violent rage filled sadness, rocking back and forth.

I remember my teacher telling me to act normal. I wanted to be normal. I didn't know why I shook with pain and fear constantly. I wanted to be just like everyone else. Subsequently, the more I tried, the worse the anxiety attacks got. The more I noticed that I was alone and lonely, the more my habitual panic and freak outs made sure I would stay that way. My panic attacks were both my prison and also the guard that stood in front of the locked cage door with a dorky hat and a sharp spear.

I didn't have a lot of friends. The more I struggled with my anxiety, the worse it got.

The nutmeg obviously didn't think much of this situation. It never asked for this kind of attention. Poor nutmeg, sitting alone at every coffee shop. The nutmeg gets to read the crossword puzzle and keep the sugars and creams and straws and lids company. But what fun is that? Lids are boring. The nutmeg is not sure if it belongs in the coffee or if it's just some sort of weird groupie. Nutmeg sits in the back of the room staring at the coffee, watching the proceeds, taking notes, licking its, and waiting for its turn to get off the bench.

I sympathized with the plight of the nutmeg and wanted to show it a better world. I wanted to come back at night and take the canister and shove it into my bag. I wanted to make nutmeg and peanut butter sandwiches and eat them on a picnic blanket with the nutmeg in a park forever. I wrote a note to myself to come back and remember to steal the nutmeg, to run away together with it, in the hopes of a better future, but I knew I never would.

Dedicated to Matt Robinson

Friday, May 4, 2012

Coffee date

Insipid acoustic guitar blathered through the air. The yellow warm light spilled through the room, illuminating everything too happily. The coffee shop was mostly empty. A few people came in to order coffee and then got theirs to go. Blowing on their steaming beverages, they headed out into the cold. They escaped this place. They were the lucky ones.

My hands were folded tightly over each other, resting on the grainy wood. Well, not resting. Resting was too smooth and relaxed of a word. Resting implied laying in a big white bed all day in a beach house listening to the ocean outside the window, intermingled with a touch of Enya music whilst thinking about pink ponies. That would be restful. My hands not. They squeezed each other so tightly, they shook at a top vibration speed.

I sat across the table from him. His eyes were two glowing spheres of blue energy, lit up from the inside and blazing as if with the blue part of the flame. They were wide as he watched me. They twitched slightly like a cat's tail when it was trying not to twitch but the more it tried, the more it did twitch. Why was he the one scared one when I trembled so violently that the cup on the table was reenacting a scene from Jurrassic Park? His lips were soft and full and it hurt me to see them, so deliciously close after so long, and yet, upon realization, farther away now than ever.

"Hi," I said. My voice was inaudible and came out more like a squeaky mumble that translated to a "hrmigh." But I think he understood me. He raised his eye brows and smiled a quick bleep of a grin. He could interpret the language of anxiety.

"You look really good," he said. He was on guard, his eyes were defensive. He didn't face me directly and crossed his arms.

"Thanks for coming."
"No problem. I'm happy to see you. You seem to be doing well."
"I'm not."
"Sorry, I'm so sorry," he said.
"Don't be."
"I shouldn't have come. I should go."
"No, stay," I said. "Um. How are you?"
"I'm... I'm fine."
"What have you been up to?"
"Oh you know."
"No, I don't, because you never tell me."
"Stuff, working, stuff," He said. He looked around.
"I miss you."
"I...I should go." He wrapped his scarf around his neck tightly. He pushed his coffee to the center of the table without taking more than a two sips.
"You really have to stop doing this."
"You can't do this anymore... you are acting like a child."
"I am a child," I replied.
"You're not. You're a fucking adult. We both are. I'm sorry. I should go."
"So go."
"I will."

He turned halfway away from me, giving me his etched profile. Not looking at me, he grabbed his bag and slung it around his shoulders, his big muscular shoulders that could hold someone if they wanted to. They smelled of sweetness and fall and were always the perfect temperature.

"Do you have to go call your girlfriend or something?" I asked.

I was surprised at how much anger those words came marinated in. They stunk of loathing. I choked on the hate as I spat it out. My cheeks burned as I listened to myself. It tasted evil and disgusting in my mouth. I was uncomfortable with that much rage. I hadn't been taught to handle it, or whether it was healthy, or what to do with any of my feelings at all. The hate sat out in the air around us, a thick purple fog of disgusting feelings floating in ugly clouds, suffocating me.

I hated myself for being capable of producing such a sick emotion. I grew angry at myself for being angry. When did I become this way? This rage was not an emotion that I was characterized for. It didn't belong to me. I was filled with a dark poison in my stomach. The rage wasn't my own. It was a hex, a curse that someone had bestowed upon me, and I wanted it gone.

I didn't know why I still wanted to be friends with him, best friends, actually. I still don't. Maybe I still had feelings for him and I didn't know how to process them. Maybe I just so desperately looked up to him, that I needed to impress him, like a father figure. I just couldn't bear the idea of letting him go.

He was gathering his belongings, shoving random pieces of paper into his bag. I didn't remember when he had acquired those scraps of tree carcass, nor when he had taken them from his bag, but there they were. He crumpled shit into his bag while I shook with emotions. I excused myself to go to the bathroom while he packed his stuff up.

The bathroom had a code to get in but I guessed that it was 1-2-3-4. I'm a genius; hire me. I let myself in and didn't turn the lights on. Darkness surrounded me like a cape, protecting me and keeping me hidden and safe and in power. The rage and the disgusting soiled ooze of hatred filled my torso and stomach and lungs. I knelt in front of the toilet and heaved.

Crap flew out of my mouth easily. I gagged and vomited. The pain was excreted from lips. It was a yellow, orange and brown mixture of blegh and anxiety and nasty rage. I didn't remember eating anything yellow or brown. Orange maybe? The rage and hatred glugged out of my mouth with the satisfaction of drinking a thick cup of milkshake, but the opposite.

I shook with anxiety as the darkness flew out of me and I felt empty and clean and void of evil again. My soul was a vacant clean porcelain box with nothing inside.

I let myself out of the bathroom and he was gone. I quickly thought of several passive aggressive cruel things to text him but before I did I deleted his number. It wouldn't do any good if I was really committed to getting in touch with him, because I had his number memorized. However, it was a start.

I slung my ukulele and knapsack over my shoulder and headed outside into the sunlight. The warmth was so bright that it cut me like a cold knife. Couples walked hand in hand down the street, staring at me while I stumbled in fear and shock, half crying into the harsh brightness of reality. The joy saturated the sidewalk and oozed onto me. It wouldn't be absorbed. It washed off my plaster skin, bouncing away from my pores and splattering downward onto the dirty sidewalk.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Monologue Joke Attempts

A pair of grandparents were arrested for driving drunk while towing their grandaughter behind the SUV in a toy car. They're charged with being way cooler than her other grandparents.

The GOP criticized Obama for politicizing Bin Laden's death in the media. So I suppose all that coverage of 9/11 was for entertainment news then?

Tuesday was the One year anniversary of Bin Laden's death. Said the husband of Bin Laden’s death “What? Shit... I forgot to... hold on is there a flower shop still open?”

PETA alleged that pigeon racing raises $15 million a year in illegal gambling, not to mention the effect on the economy of tiny bird track shoes.

The Higgs Boson machine discovered a new, rare particle. Let's hope the other particles don't ostracize it at recess.

Australian scientists have listed the Koala as "vulnerable" in an effort to educate and encourage young men to buy beer for them.

Australian scientists have listed the Koala as "vulnerable" insinuating that it's easy to pick one up at a bar.

Australian scientists have listed the Koala as "vulnerable." This diagnosis is due to habitat decay and scientists saying to the koalas, "Hey girl, I would never treat you that way.

Reportedly wind farms may actually be warming the Earth, contrary to their primary purpose as a green energy solution. Which is the Earth's way of saying, "Just let me die in peace."

Some doctors are considering using psychedelic drugs for treatments, due to a rising epidemic of not being groovy enough.

General Motors has filed a patent to produce Minority Report style billboards that will custom advertise to individuals, sensing our wants and needs. But I don't think there's a store where I can pick up the ability to love myself.

A new Daredevil reboot is in the works. It's going to be titled, "Anyone who turns down an invitation to join the Avengers must be blind."

The Higgs Boson machine discovered a brand new particle. Said the old particles, "Ah, fresh meat."

Reports show that wind farms may be warming the earth. Said the earth to her husband, "Well, yeah, but you're never home anymore."

Some doctors are considering using psychedelic drugs for medical treatments, due to a rising epidemic of just not getting how deep The Who is, man.

A Chicago woman was arrested for biting a dog during a dispute with her mother. Said the woman, "Oh yeah, mom? Well then I'll just make a Patches into a were-mommy!"

Reportedly, leading up to Bin Laden's death, the terrorist leader was worried that al-qaeda was losing support and was considering changing it's name and remarketing it. One possible alternative name was, “Well what if we said 73 virgins?”

The Obama reelection campaign brought to life an incident when the Romney family's dog was found tided and strapped to the roof of their car. Said the car in question “Don’t judge the way me and patches express our love!”

Morning Elevator Ride

A high pitched bell rang, announcing the arrival. The fake wood paneled doors slid open. A soft yellow light emanated from the tiny room. My feet were heavy with the morning fatigue, blocks in my boots. I flexed my leg muscles, forcing myself to move. The doors were just closing as I stepped inside. They reopened with another bell ding, as if the elevator was scolding me.

I turned and faced the doors, leaning against the back wall of the small box room. I called it the back wall, but I guess that was because I had decided the doors were the front, but the back wall could easily be identified as the front or side wall if your perception could be thus influenced. I squished my fingers hard against my eyes, pressing the squelchy globs into the sockets of my skull. The pressure felt elatedly glorious. I ground my eyes into myself and saw stars in the darkness, letting out a soft moan of pleasure.

The elevator began to rise at a steady, rapid speed. As the earth slipped inches and feet and meters farther away my heart started to beat faster. I dropped my hands promptly to my sides. my wrists aligned with my hips as if poised there by the robot designer. My breath rate accelerated in frequency. I was breathing more, but the breaths were shallow and tight in my chest. The more I took in oxygen, the more desperately I was gasping for air. My shoulders raised higher and higher until my back was hunched and they cuddled my ears. All of my muscles, especially those in my neck tightened.

Every inch of my being was so tight that I began to shake in a rhythm so small and quick that it may have looked as though my skin was vibrating on my skeleton.

The walls leaned in on me and the ceiling bore down. The room was clearly getting smaller, like the scene that still gave me nightmares from A New Hope. I couldn't absorb oxygen and my heart was jumping around my body. My blood pounded in my ears with a heavy throbbing. The gasping shallow air dove into my chest, missed my lungs, and clutched at my heart like an icy hand with a suffocating tight grip. My own palm flew to my chest and I grasped the sides of the elevator wall for support.

The intensity of the respiratory lacking air squeezing my heart filled my body and I felt an immense need to relieve the pressure. It was like being underwater inside my torso. I needed to get rid of the painful inner strangling. Leaning against the wall of the elevator, I held my chest and dry heaved painfully. I bent over, gagging, but nothing came out. Hot dry tears stung my eyes but never fell.

The tears filled me up inwardly, clinging to the inside of my throat and webbing together in a sticky mess. I wondered if spiders would crawl into my tear web and lay eggs and catch flies and mummify them for dinner. I wasn't actually sure how spiders prepared their meals.

Another high pitched bell dinged to signify imminent pain. Thus, trembling, gagging and holding my pain stricken chest, I stood hunched over when the doors opened. They slid apart in slow motion, revealing the crisp white and grey light of my office. A few of my coworkers stood in the lobby, holding files and piles of paper respectively. They looked into the elevator, naturally. I held up my hand in a half waved and tried to say something. My words came out like "hmmmgummmhumm" in a sound so soft I doubt it even made it out of the elevator. The first words of the day are always the mumbliest.

The doors began to close and my coworkers watched me lean back in agony. They didn't know about my panic attacks, or anything really personal about my anxiety. I didn't share a lot, but I knew they thought I was weird and different.

The elevator slid back to the first floor level. The decent was a slow journey downwards towards depression, down in elevation and down in mood. As did my height, my anxiety attack began to decrease as well. Down I traveled in the shaft, listening to the whir of the elevator, smelling the metal trying to quiet the screaming in my head.

Because of my anxiety attack, I was in the elevator for an extra minute. Because I was in the elevator for an extra minute, my cell phone didn't have reception for an extra minute. And that was the moment when you were weak, when you saw a picture of me online, when you heard my laugh in a dream. That weak moment was when you finally called me after all these years, and I missed the call.

You called to say you're sorry and you missed me and you were wrong and you wanted to be with me. You called to say you wanted me back, and that things would be different and that you forgave me for everything, or maybe you don't forgive me, because now that you think about it, there was nothing to forgive.

But you never said those things, because my phone went straight to voicemail, because I had no reception.

Drumming your fingers against the desk you listened to my voicemail pick up, before the phone actually rang. My squeaky voice tried desperately to seem polite and grown up, instead coming out unsure and scared. You listened and right at the beep you hung up. You stared at the phone for a second and then placed it on your clean, organized desk. You shook your head, amazed at yourself and your moment of insanity. What had you been thinking? You climbed back into bed with your perfect, beautiful girlfriend who didn't get crippling panic attacks in elevators, and forgot it ever happened.

Because I didn't have reception, my phone didn't tell me I had even missed a call at all. Maybe I hadn't. Whether or not you called me would remain in the schrodinger box of the elevator, simultaneously a transportation device and a coffin in which I am both crying and shaking until you open the doors and I stumble out.

The doors opened with the second to last ding of the morning. I stepped outside and walked around, breathing in deeply, feeling the color come back to my face. After walking around for a few minutes, my anxiety subsided and I headed back up to work.