- Jesus: Hi, men.
- Disciple 1: Hello.
- Disciple 2: Hi!
- Disciple 3: Hey there.
- Disciple 4: Hola.
- Disciple 5: Oh, hi.
- Disciple 6: Howdy.
- Disciple 7: Hey, you.
- Disciple 8: Hihihihi!
- Disciple 9: Hello, hello.
- Disciple 10: Hiya.
- Disciple 11: Hey.
- Disciple 12: Well hello!
- Jesus: Oh, no, I wasn't saying "hi, men," I was saying "hymen."
- European: To know me is to walk a kilometer in my shoes.
- Person: How long is a kilometer?
- European: Walk until you understand.
- Person: Right, but isn't there a standard measurement for how long a kilometer is?
- European: No. No one knows how long a kilometer is.
- Person: So if to know you is to walk a kilometer in your shoes, but no one knows how long a kilometer actually is, then no one knows themselves?
- European: Correct. In Europe, we're very confused and very sad, but we do have high-speed trains.
I bet the reason God flooded the Earth was because he knew that the water would eventually evaporate, so there wouldn’t be a huge mess to clean up (like if it was a big tornado, hurricane or volcano eruption), and that a flood would also still do a good job at killing everyone.
Last fall my friends and I made this atmospheric, dramatic thriller short film ALONE TIME. It would be awesome if you’d watch it, and then share it with your friends.
The film stars Rose Hemingway who is a Broadway star and an all around amazing woman.
If you like videos, you’ll like this video.
Here is my submission to a NPR Three-Minute Fiction mini-contest. The prompt was to write a story in 50 words or less that involved a father in some way. It didn’t win.
Like God broke a thermometer and let the mercury roll, the sun filled the land’s wounds silver. The boy watched the world inch by and behind. He hadn’t been on a plane before. He was happy then that his dad lived away so he could always be on a plane.
No, tank you.
Here is my entry for Round 11 of NPR’s Three-Minute Fiction short story contest. The prompt was to write a story about someone finding something that they do not intend to give back. The title of my entry is “A Cat From the Field Next to a House.” It didn’t win.
A man knocked on my front door this evening. I saw him blurred through the lace blinds between the window glass and me. He stood there in his dark slacks and loose tie with his head down with light lining his edges by the sun behind him, and I stood looking at him through a small ripped slit in the floral blinds covering the window and the lace blinds and me. I knew he couldn’t see me because he didn’t know where to look.
He knocked on the door again. I didn’t answer again, and he looked back towards the street. He must have thought that no one was home and that he might as well go on and try to knock on the next house. There is no next house though. We are the last house before the field and its high wheat. The field will be more houses soon though, they say. The field is still a field now though. But he didn’t know any better either way, and so he turned and tried to leave. I thought about letting him, and I would have if Tom hadn’t have insisted I talk to him to let him know everything would be o.k.
“You be quiet, o.k. Tom? I’ll handle this.”
Tom didn’t respond, and I opened the door. The light outside was all the way out from the man’s sides and it hit my cheeks so that they felt warm and red, and there was no breeze to move the wheat. The man turned back towards the house when the door made the sound that it always has when it opens.
“Can I help you?”
“I didn’t think that anyone was home,” he said and stepped towards me, and I stayed where I was behind the screen door. “I’m hoping you can help me; my cat is missing. Well, actually, it’s my daughter’s.”
I had already known why he was at my door. I had seen the same papers he was holding in his hands on the light poles on the street corners I pass by on my walks. I couldn’t help him though. I knew that too. Not like he wanted or hoped I could. But I opened the screen door enough to grab a piece of paper from the man when he handed one to me, and I looked at it like I hadn’t seen one before.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” I said, because we hadn’t. “My name is Sue, and I live here alone.”
He told me that it was nice to meet me and that he had just moved here with his wife and daughter and that his daughter’s cat must have gotten lost because it wasn’t yet used to the new house, and didn’t that just figure, what with all the other stresses and worries of moving into a new house in a new town. I said something about how nice it was to have a nice young family in the neighborhood and something about keeping my eyes open for it. “At least as best as I can at my age.”
The man left, and the light outside was gone enough to where there were no bright blurred lines around anything. The wind picked up and blew the wheat so that it swayed back and forth like it did every night, like it always had.
Here is my submission to a NPR Three-Minute Fiction mini-contest. The prompt was to write a story in 50 words or less that involved Memorial Day in some way. It didn’t win.
I stood in their bathroom with my shirt off as it soaked, crumpled in the sink. It was too much effort for a mustard stain. I saw the tattoo on my bicep in the mirror. I couldn’t breathe being back, standing next to a grille, talking about nothing with neighbors.
- The San Francisco restaurant “Bacon Bacon” is being forced to close its doors after complaints from neighboring residents about its strong bacon smell lead to the discovery of permitting issues. Area residents aren’t going to be happy anytime soon though, with reports of a new restaurant called “Spoiled ’Milk’” taking place of the failed Bacon eatery.
- German officials have handed Justin Bieber a bill for thousands of euros after he failed to claim his pet monkey “Mally” from a local animal shelter where it has been staying for the last two months. However, the fine pales in comparison to the pop sensation’s biggest monkey-related cost of going from Bieber Fever to AIDS.
- Controversy following last night’s American Idol finale with accusations that show judge Mariah Carey lip-sinced her performance. Asked to comment, Mariah Carey lifted her finger to her ear, screeched in a high-pitch tone before being escorted away by her dog lawyer who translated for Carey, “No comment.”
- A bank has reportedly refused a porn star’s attempt to make a deposit at the bank. All specifics details beyond that are currently unclear as I am still at work and unable to click on the article link. More info also not to come later since my snoopy mom is a big snoop and walked into my room without asking last week and saw me in my private alone special time and now I can’t use my laptop in my room and have to use the family computer in the living room while my dumb snoopy parents watch Survivor and embarrass me in front of my friends like two dumb snoops.
- Just in time for summer, a new report revealed that fifty-eight percent of pool filters sampled in Atlanta-area pools contained E. coli, a bacteria commonly found in human feces. Bad news for swimmers with this coming on the heels of a separate report which revealed that one-hundred percent of pool filters sampled in Richard Gere-area pools contained gerbil fur.
- A federal judge has barred an abortion law proposed by Arkansas state officials that, if implemented, would be one of the nation’s most strict. “Sure it would be strict, but it doesn’t go far enough. We’ve worked too hard and too long setting up the systematic demise of all of Arkansas by 2018, and we sure as shit don’t need new ones to get rid of later,” the judge said. Reporters were confused at first, having never heard of a plot to destroy Arkansas, until they looked at the judge’s nameplate which reads “Judge Lizard Person,” and then it all made sense. RIP Arkansas.
Nothing really newsworthy happening. Maybe next week will be more eventful.