Sometimes the Messenger Deserves Killing
Once you start stabbing people who deserve it, where do you stop? So many worthy candidates. Macbeth’s problem. At least he had a wife to blame. There are always going to be witches, cackling over cauldrons, to set you thinking, woods to get lost in mid-life, battles to come back from with your mind on chores left undone back at the castle, scores to settle, slights to avenge. The moat needs draining, the murder holes are low on oil, and that distant relative chained to the dungeon wall has a dentist’s appointment. No need to question where these messages come from, this clarity that...
Read MoreDissolution
“We can’t help you, sir.” The smartly-dressed paralegal’s smile was fixed as she rose to show the conversation was over. Kemp resignedly gathered up his files and walked out past a sign reading “Discount Divorces. Egress for Less!!” Inside, he fretted. How difficult could it be? It was an uncontested divorce, no custody disputes. . . “And, heaven knows,” said Jillian, ever mischievous, “we won’t be fighting over the furniture.” Kemp ignored her and kept turning the matter over in his mind. Nothing hard. Just one unusual factor. “Oh, yes. Just that...
Read MoreApproximately 465 Words of Sterling Wisdom
This has not been an easy piece to write, for it deals with a very odious category of people, those who are so unpleasant that, upon sight of them, many flee and hide. Are you such a person? Ah, you automatically declare “NO!” I assert, though, that you must study my words of sterling wisdom before you can be positive. Now let’s move on to today’s probing topic: How to tell when it’s time to work on your attitude and general demeanor. I proffer to you six ways you can tell: (1) Just after you run a stop sign, yell obscenities out the window, and flip someone...
Read MoreYidiot
I decided to go on Thursday night to the Buddhist talk at my temple, the Congregation B’nai Tsimmes. I managed to get out of work early, always a Nirvana-inducing feat, then high-tailed it home, ran three, showered, nuked and ate a health-conscious chicken pot pie, and set forth on my Siddharthan quest. Minya stayed home with the quads. On the ten-minute ride to the temple, I fretted about whether I was wearing the right clothes; the flyer had said to wear “comfortable clothes and footwear,” but I wasn’t about to wear sweats to a place of worship. I wondered if I would know anybody...
Read MoreA Vegetarian Backslidden
On the seventh day God rested, so Sunday dinner was up to Lucifer. While chewing enthusiastically and explaining to his angels that, for much of the beginning of human history, his most confusing creation would believe their planet was not only flat but the center of the universe (to hearty chuckles all around) God ate in contentment. But, towards the end of the meal, the creator abruptly began to brood. Seeing his lord staring off, his hairy jaws full but no longer moving, Gabriel asked what was wrong. “Well,” God both swallowed and answered hesitantly. “It’s the food.” “Oh, I...
Read MoreInterior Monologue (Girl with Smart Phone)
Though it’s no mace, but cell phone in my hand, I’d like to favor you. But I’ve a slew of messages whose import countermand desires of my awestruck retinue who pass me with petitions on the street. Because of this, I claim the royal right to read my e-mail following a tweet to devotees while you keep me in sight. Indeed, not only are my hands not free, but texting makes it difficult to turn, acknowledging those holding doors for me. Thus, I can’t give the gratitude you yearn for who suppose a royal highness grants indulgence to her abject...
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