Tagged: gonzo

My Husband’s Name is Paris

  • k-avatara strange man opened that door
  • the worst a beautiful woman could do
  • strip poker with a man-eating tiger
  • my husband’s name is Paris
  • reporting a raccoon
  • “Cold potato soup!”

My husband’s name is Paris, which isn’t the worst a beautiful woman could do. I once dated a fellow named Albuquerque, and even that’s not as bad as strip poker with a man-eating tiger.

But this has nothing to do with Paris, or Albuquerque.

My apartment has a door I never use. Once a strange man opened that door and leaned into my apartment, reporting a raccoon was raiding the dumpster. So now I never use that door.

And yesterday, a little child trapped in my sock drawer kept yelling the same thing all day. “Cold potato soup!”

I think I should move.

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Harry Couldn’t Go Out There

  1. k-avatarCharacter – politician
  2. Setting – Australian outback
  3. Object – monocle
  4. Situation – earthquake

Harry couldn’t go out there. The crowd was rabid. He would call campaign headquarters, but some lunatic wallaby had his cellphone in her pouch.

“He’s almost ready. Where’s that monocle? Harry looks dignified with a monocle.”

That kangaroo is only making this worse, thought Harry. The noise of the crowd was suddenly louder and a stray boomerang caromed off the wall near his head.

The kangaroo was shouting now. “No! Monocle, I said monocle, you egg-laying imbecile! I suppose it’ll have to do…”

Before he could react, Harry’s wrists were bound by cold iron manacles and he was shoved out onto the stage.

Suddenly, the building began to shake. The pandemonium of the crowd sputtered out.

Harry cleared his throat, lost his balance, and toppled to the floor. He couldn’t get up because of the restraints, and the shaking of the floor. Plaster dust sifted down onto his blue suit as he thought, I can see the headlines now — Harry won’t take a stand.

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Well, Astrid Thought

  1. k-avatarCharacter – cancer patient
  2. Setting – airplane bathroom
  3. Object – bullwhip
  4. Situation – talent show of the damned

Well, Astrid thought, if this isn’t good enough for the top prize I’ll raise a grievance with the judges. She adjusted the flaps and prepared to reverse thrust. The 747 touched tarmac and majestically slowed until it taxied all the way into the hangar.

Only then did Astrid coil her bullwhip and emerge from the bathroom. She strode up the aisle into first class, where the judges sat, and took a bow to light applause.

I hope I place, she thought. Only the three best contestants get chemo.

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Your Guinea Pigs Would Ask

  • “You were hunting whales?”
  • nine minutes by railway
  • linking his eyeball movements to the computer
  • You need a tiger
  • your guinea pigs would
  • taking a cocktail napkin

Your guinea pigs would ask, “You were hunting whales?” their piping voices protesting in unison and three-part harmony. And you’d reply that it was none of their business and go to your office, nine minutes by railway from your dingy garden apartment. On the way, you’d contemplate what’s missing in your life. You need a tiger, a security tiger with a special implant linking his eyeball movements to the computer. He might eat your guinea pigs, for which you would be grateful. You imagine him taking a cocktail napkin from the stack on the credenza and daintily blotting his whiskers. No more judgemental guinea pigs. They don’t know how it was, with those whales.

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Oedipus Giggled

  • sometimes I get overzealous
  • bouncing a diapered kangaroo on my knee
  • the bird in the paper bag
  • Oedipus giggled all the way home
  • make an asparagus omelet
  • sleep-taught toilet training
  • me and my herniated module

Oedipus giggled all the way home from his therapy session, smitten by the idea that all of his troubles were the result of sleep-taught toilet training.

The bird in the paper bag said, “Sometimes I get overzealous,” and it was true. The bag had nearly filled up with eggs by the time Oedipus reached his house. He planned to make an asparagus omelet, but thought it prudent not to inform the bird.

When he opened the door, his jaw and the bag of eggs both hit the floor. There I sat, bouncing a diapered kangaroo on my knee.

“Should you be doing that?” Oedipus asked.

He always worries about me and my herniated module.

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