Posted by jbeymer on Aug 8, 2010 in Uncategorized
Keywords: Fungus, Pencil, Brazilian
“Uh, no I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were. It’s pretty obvious.”
“They were brought in like that.”
“With their sheets off? And why just the pretty ones? Why not Mrs. Pencil in the Eye, Miss Botched Autopsy, or Miss Dragged from the Lake fungus thighs?”
“Here, check out this toe tag.”
“On Miss Brazilian bikini wax?”
“Yeah. It says ‘Please take my sheet off.'”
“That’s written in black ink.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s fresh black ink.”
“So?”
“You have black ink on your hand.”
“Your point?”
“And you’re not wearing pants.”
“I’m…um…I’m Union.”
“Oh. Union?”
“Yep. Union.”
“So how are the dues?”
“Can’t complain.”
Keyword preview for tomorrow: Marmalade, Potent, Hypnotic
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Posted by jbeymer on Aug 7, 2010 in Uncategorized
Keywords: Bologna, Crater, Abstain
God munches a bologna sandwich. That’s all she packed him. It’s the sixth day and he’s tired. Creativity hangover. Every crater filled, ready for populating. Time to make Man. This time will be different. He won’t interfere. He’ll abstain. And he’ll make them all the same color: Green. He once saw this Star Trek that—Naw. He’s got a “thing” for Asians. And his son is black. Fine. But how to keep them from fighting? Compromise. Give them all the same genitalia. Give them springy vertebrae so their mouths can reach their own—”God!” his wife calls, “Get your ass home.”
Preview for tomorrow: Fungus, Pencil, Brazilian
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Posted by jbeymer on Aug 6, 2010 in Uncategorized
Keywords: Ink, Hamburger, Koala
The koalas know the Outback; they know to stay away. Chester sniffs and raises one paw, halting his army. They see the koala’s face: hamburger. Bulbs blink in the alley and showcase the others. Tommy vomits; Chester slaps him. One of the bodies coughs and spasms, its blood puddling like ink from a toppled blotter. Still alive… Chester doesn’t think; he runs. “Where’s Joey?” he asks. “Where’s my boy?” Two pulpy eyes drift toward the alley door. Time to show these bastards that koalas aren’t just cute, cuddly and good for beer sales. Time to koala-up, and kick some Aussie ass.
Preview for tomorrow (and feel free to suggest your own): Bologna, Crater, Abstain
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Posted by jbeymer on Aug 5, 2010 in Uncategorized
Keywords: Umbrella, Inebriated, Carousel
It hides beneath the carousel, beneath the motorized whir of circular steeds. Its beady eyes blink into the rain beyond. Thunder rumbles; the children scatter. It sticks out its head and sniffs the electric twilight, whiskers dancing. Then it emerges, skitters past a fallen umbrella, through the moonlit fairgrounds, and into a downed garbage can. Soon it’s inebriated from the stale beer left sitting in discarded carnival cups. A predatory rumble fills its chest. The world fades and it regrets every loss: its wife, its home, its job, its children. A rat crawls over its blank face and finishes the beer.
Preview for tomorrow: Ink, Hamburger, Koala
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Posted by jbeymer on Aug 4, 2010 in Uncategorized
Keywords: Gobble, Milk, September
It’s a cold September morning, and the barista fills your personalized Lady Gaga mug with coffee. I hate you. Oh, yeah, hi. Smile and nod. No. Not the daily ritual… Don’t cozy up to the condiment station like a goddamned chemist. Just pour the milk and—Stop shaking the Splenda packet! You’ve loosened the granules enough. Rip the packet open and—Stop it! Why do you keep doing that? No, don’t gobble up your scone now. Jesus. Chew once in a—Stop it! I notice a guy staring at me, typing on his laptop. Hey! Is he blogging about—Stop it!
Keyword preview for tomorrow: umbrella, inebriated, carousel
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Posted by jbeymer on Aug 3, 2010 in Uncategorized
Shh. Be very quiet. My job is to kill talking rabbits. Hey, there’s a big one! A biped, even. I give chase until it dives into a hole. I want to yell, but my speech impediment, you see… It’s embarrassing. I thrust my double-barreled shotgun into the rabbit’s home. As I do, something emerges from the hole behind me. Even with my doctorate in physics, I don’t make the connection. “Got you now!” I fire the gun. Buckshot sprays from both barrels, dislodging half my skull. My prey chomps a carrot, smiles and asks me what’s up. Ooh, I hate rabbits.
Keywords: buckshot, biped, skull
Have at it!
Preview for tomorrow: gobble, milk, September
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