Tagged: money

I Threw a Glance at the Closed Door

  • by jengood-natured patience and gentle eye-rolling
  • embedded into the skin
  • it sounds insane
  • he never intended to record it himself
  • so predictably ritualistic

Tune in next time part 105                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

I threw a glance at the closed door to the ultrasound room where my wife and her sister presumably still were, getting high as fuck on those funky smoked mushrooms. That couldn’t be good for the babies, could it?

I kept my hand over my mouth to make sure I didn’t ask that question out loud.

When I looked back at my one-time prom date I found her full of good-natured patience and gentle eye-rolling, which was disconcerting since she had metal spikes embedded into the skin of her eyelids that stuck out like armored eyelashes. I know it sounds insane, but Myxolemia always had a flair for the dramatic.

“The president sent me,” Myxolemia said in response to my questioning look. “I’m the ambassador to Contraria these days. Thor wanted me to deliver a message, but he never intended to record it himself.” She handed me a thumb drive in the shape of an actual human thumb. “Freya did it for him.”

I wondered which of my siblings had truly sent this mysterious message, and why any of them would be taking an interest in my fate at this late date.

Myxolemia held out her hand. I fished in my pocket and gave her a §12 coin. She rolled her eyes less gently and I remembered that in Contraria it is customary to tip an ambassador with a song. Everything in this damn country is so predictably ritualistic! Right down to how many verses I was to sing, based on the social importance of the message’s sender, and which foot I was to stand on while I sang.

I did the calculations, took a deep breath, lifted my right foot, and began.

bonus points for using them in order

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To The Cocky Princeton Freshman

  • k-avatar(What we deem offensive is probably about what you’d expect)
  • cocky Princeton freshman
  • instill fetishes in human beings
  • the police force in Prefrontal, Nebraska
  • she says, “Open up your mouth, man.”

To the cocky Princeton freshman she says, “Open up your mouth, man.” He does. “Shut your eyes.” He does. The waitress was holding a can of whipped cream the whole time, so his cooperation was understandable. Of course, he’d been hitting on her relentlessly for an hour, so it was also understandable that she crammed his “generous” tip into his ignorant maw and then sprayed him in the puss with the whipped cream while he spat out nickels.

The ensuing disturbance at Tipsy’s Diner was not the sort of event that the police force in Prefrontal, Nebraska was really prepared to deal with. They overreacted a tad, storming the place in full SWAT getup and arresting everybody they didn’t recognize as a local.

Of course, being a frosh, this cocky twerp had never been in cuffs before. In the back of the van he discovered that he liked it, which would eventually inspire his master’s thesis on factors which instill fetishes in human beings. Which was what got him kicked out of Princeton. His advisor wrote, “This offensive paper made our chihuahuas retch. (What we deem offensive is probably about what you’d expect)”

So, yeah, I knew him before he was a supervillain.

 

Ofttimes In My Job as a Wedding Planner

  • by jenplays cat and mouse with the yakuza
  • simply wasn’t awesome enough
  • in blissful ignorance of the preparations
  • liked each other sincerely enough that there was little awkwardness
  • one helluva romp

Ofttimes in my job as a wedding planner I am at the beck and call of a very demanding and challenging bride, but none in my experience were worse than Catrinka. Popular culture calls these women “Bridezillas” but I see Catrinka as a different sort of Japanese-inspired trope: the geisha who plays cat and mouse with the yakuza and Daddy’s checkbook.

Nothing could please Catrinka. No matter how spectacular or expensive an item or venue, it simply wasn’t awesome enough for Catrinka. Her groom-to-be, Harold, meanwhile meandered along in blissful ignorance of the preparations. He cared naught for the details of the wedding or reception as long as the bachelor party was, in his words, “one helluva romp.” Catrinka didn’t give a fig what he and his friends got up to with the strippers as long as Harold arrived on time to the wedding wearing the proper color bow tie and socks. The betrothed liked each other sincerely enough that there was little awkwardness in this arrangement. And the checks all cleared, so I suppose I ultimately have nothing to complain about.

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The Host of My Favorite Music Podcast

  • by jenentirely the wrong kind of inflection
  • turned into wobbly rubber
  • delicately touched the sleeve
  • because of technical embargoes
  • liquor and the jellies
  • with ice in his voice
  • only to force cursing
  • Caesar, the Decembrists, Prince Charlie, Xerxes

The host of my favorite music podcast made the announcement with ice in his voice, and entirely the wrong kind of inflection. Big Jim Caesar, the Decembrists, Prince Charlie, Xerxes and Lolita, and KGI would all be playing Bonnaroo this year, but because of technical embargoes, Liquor and the Jellies (my favorite band), would not. The news seemed designed only to force cursing from me, and I complied, letting loose a stream of profanity that did not stop until my neighbor pounded on the wall. My stomach turned to wobbly rubber when I remembered how much I’d paid for my ticket on Craigslist. I delicately touched the sleeve of my kimono to my cheek to blot my tears of disappointment and fury while inwardly I vowed vengeance against the president’s new War on Synthesizers.

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Jason Crossed the Restaurant

  • by jencash prize of $100,000
  • Is that your usual walk?
  • if any part of your body is frozen
  • A little rubbing of the limbs
  • Jason, what happened?
  • asking for a dragon of her own
  • traveling at a furious rate

Jason crossed the restaurant, traveling at a furious rate. He was shivering.

“Jason, what happened?” asked Holly. “Is that your usual walk?”

“Georgia locked me in the walk-in freezer!” Jason exclaimed.

Holly rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively. “A little rubbing of the limbs is all you need if any part of your body is frozen.” She eyed his zipper. “Is any, er, part of your body frozen, Jason?”

“You don’t understand!” Jason snapped. “Georgia knows about us. Now, thanks to that damn prenup she’s going to get a cash prize of $100,000!”

“Your dragon of a lawyer will take care of everything,” Holly assured.

“Georgia’s already asking for a dragon of her own,” Jason sighed. “I’m screwed.”

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The Fee For Government Burial

  • by jenas smoking tears poured from his eyes
  • my mother was alive then
  • one extraterrestrial humanoid
  • furtive-faced little man in an oversize raincoat
  • The fee for government burial is ten dollars
  • with cars, refrigerators, a castle in Scotland

“The fee for government burial is ten dollars,” said the furtive-faced little man in an oversize raincoat as smoking tears poured from his eyes and he exposed himself.

“Let me give you some advice,” Carlo said, “one extraterrestrial humanoid to another. Keep that thing covered or the earthmen will know that you’re not just an eccentric rich man with cars, refrigerators, a castle in Scotland, and all the rest.”

“Sorry,” said the furtive-faced little man. “In my grief I forget myself.”

“Surely you can afford the ten dollar fee,” said Carlo.

“I used to wealthy, years ago,” said the man, “but my mother was alive then. When she died, our money was cremated along with her body. And now I cannot even afford the government fee to bury my monkey.”

Feeling sympathy, Carlo slipped the man a tenner.

 

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The Latest Fad Religion

  • by jenthe most fabulous unheard-of things
  • I love my gold!
  • “Remote control, perhaps?”
  • discontinuous orthodragonality
  • some dank, phosphorescent cocoon
  • stirred the subatomic dough

The latest fad religion, Discontinuous Orthodragonality, is quickly replacing Kabbalah among the Hollywood elite. Orthodragonality priests remind the rich and famous that dragons are known for hoarding treasure, and preach that greed is desirable. They encourage Orthodragonality neophytes to become comfortable proclaiming, “I love my gold!”

Their sermons recount tales of the most fabulous unheard-of things, like the ancient silver dragon who sat in some dank, phosphorescent cocoon and stirred the subatomic dough for one week until the world was created.

At the end of the services, the believers rise together to sing a hymn, such as the all-time favorite about the mystery of how the dragons control the universe, entitled “Remote Control, Perhaps?”

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The Kremlin Cupolas Shone

  • k-avatarslapped the monk’s face
  • stop shooting, you fools!
  • most novices ate it with relish
  • work intelligently, rather than spectacularly
  • the Kremlin cupolas shone against a pale summer sky
  • “Go ahead, kiss her.”

The Kremlin cupolas shone against a pale summer sky, and bells rang out the lunchtime hour. Since its conversion into a  monastery, the former fortress boasted far fewer tanks, and marginally better food.

Brother Ivan wished the cooks would strive to work intelligently, rather than spectacularly. Years of eating the ornate fare left him bored by all the gold leaf and sugar sculptures, although most novices ate it with relish.

The walls shook, signaling that some of those novices were skipping lunch to play in a tank, and had found some ammunition. “Stop shooting, you fools!” screamed the abbot as he charged outside.

After the meal, Ivan strolled in Red Square with Brother Boris. They came upon a pretty young lady with a sign reading, “Smoochies, $1.”

“Go ahead, kiss her,” Ivan suggested. The woman slapped the monk’s face. “Pay first,” she insisted.

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He’s the Kind of Guy Who Keeps a List of Judicial Candidates

  • by jenhas her gargle with salt water
  • a jar of warm sputum
  • judicial candidates with humorous names
  • and then he’d wave
  • the Swiss bank account of a total stranger

He’s the kind of guy who keeps a list of judicial candidates with humorous names to choose his aliases from. The kind of guy who takes his date to an orgy, but then has her gargle with salt water before he’ll kiss her afterwards. He probably collects it so that he has a jar of warm sputum to remember her by. And then he’d wave and send her off into the night on her own so that he could sit at his computer and try to hack his way into the Swiss bank account of a total stranger. In other words, he’s just like all the rest. OKCupid sucks.

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I Received a Visit From My Nephew Today

  • k-avatarheavy in his breast pocket
  • Yours sincerely, Gordon K.
  • tracks leading off into the blinding snow
  • an industry catering to “needs”
  • like pumpernickel bread
  • with a lip-smacking sigh
  • a band of earnest, friendly gnomes

I received a visit from my nephew today, a band of earnest, friendly gnomes heavy in his breast pocket. He wished to discuss a business loan, which is the reason for this letter. He would tell me little of his scheme, except that it is an industry catering to “needs.” He spoke these words with a lip-smacking sigh, his close-cropped dark hair, like pumpernickel bread, betraying the tingle in his scalp.

Eventually I had to send him away. I can still see his tracks leading off into the blinding snow.

I would greatly appreciate if you could spare a moment to apply your prodigious knowledge of gnomes, and their needs, to the question of my nephew’s scheme’s viability.

Yours sincerely, Gordon K.

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